Sawdust

For fourteen years, since I was fired in 1997 from my position as Director of Design for a then high profile luxury custom cabinet manufacturer, I have done much of my best work in product design as a consultant for Premier Custom-Built, Inc. in New Holland, PA. The owner and I share the distinction of being fired as key employees of the same firm, both essentially for being vocally at odds with management. Both of us, several years apart, emerged from unemployment by starting our own businesses, Marlin at a much larger scale than I. Serendipitously, Premier became my first client, and together, we've made a good bit of noise in the world of high end custom kitchens. And Marlin Horst and I have become rather unlikely close friends in the process. Which is another story.

Just this week, in the teeth of a recession that has been especially hard on our businesses, we've agreed to move ahead with several initiatives, on our jointly held optimism that we can continue to thrive together in an environment mired in fear and pessimism. I'm in the shop about half the time and in my studio across the county the other half. Today, it occurred to me that it would be fun and challenging to take my sketchbook out on the shop floor. This is the first of what I think will be an entertaining and certainly offbeat series of drawings, done while sitting cross legged on the concrete floor in front of a chop saw, situated amidst the special cabinet assembly workbenches, while my colleagues, who already think I'm pretty weird, looked cautiously across their lunchpails wondering what could possibly have possessed that lunatic to sit on the floor in the sawdust with a tray of colored pencils, scribbling with mad intent.

8 1/4 x 11 9/16, watercolor pencils