When I’m in the flow time just disappears, it’s beautiful.

Working with wood is incredibly logically. So much it hurts sometimes. There’s basically these rules and if you follow each step with precision every joint, every glue up, every construction will work. But it’s the patience involved that usually leads people a foul. Like everything I have experienced, the challenge is often such a gift. In this case it offers the opportunity to slow down and enter the state I call ‘the flow’. A result of being forced to work carefully with precision in every process in all aspects of woodwork and furniture making. 


I feel incredibly grateful to be able to do what I love - and I friggen’ love working with wood

blurred out and my mind transforms into something foreign in conscious thinking and a new language is opened, a new perception where through muscle memory my body reacts and each action is incredibly understood, and married with the thoughts and feelings that are created by going through the motions with each process and reacting in sync. It’s difficult to explain but I’m sure anyone who works a craft in this way can relate. I loose myself in it and am guided by it at the same time. 

I often talk about being in ‘the flow’ at work. When I am not able to concentrate and be present for each movement, from normal work/life distractions I can find it incredibly challenging to complete simple tasks and often make mistakes. When I am able to be in a space where I am present and connected to each process I am working on I feel like I am in the flow, literally like I am in a large river or something and a am being gently guided along while I get to sit and relax, watch the beautiful trees and wildlife as I drift by. There is a quieting of the mind that happens in this space and I relate to the saying of ‘getting out of your own way’, because it’s seems that in this space the work just flows through me, effortlessly.

Trying to rush in woodwork will always lead to more work down the track or ruining projects all together. I have always thought of myself as a creative type of person and it’s this structure I find working with wood that seems to really draw me in and bring out the best of this aspect of my life. I thrive on structure, systems, evidence based procedure - if I do this, this will happen. Which woodworking caters for very well. The flip side though is that working with an organic material there is so much that is out of my control and again I am forced to work within the perimeters of each stick of timber I am using at the time - grain direction, natural defects like knots, splits, cupping etc. then throw in reactions to the natural environment - primarily moisture content - and its game on in calculating the most efficient (in time, energy and waste) and effective way to achieve the desired outcomes for the project I am working on. 

It’s in this extreme focus that the gold is on offer. When I am forced to go slow and repeat monotonous process’s (most of my day- sanding is a big one) I am able to find the meditative space in my craft. It’s in the focused repetition of woodworking where I feel as if my eyes are


When I worked for ‘the man’ I was always a clock watcher. In fact I’m pretty sure I have always been a clock watcher since school days. Where the time always just seemed move so slowly and I was just hanging out for home time. Since opening my workshop and having the opportunity to work on the projects I was inspired by its like the opposite has happen with my clock watching. I still check it regularly (something about my love of systems makes me need to know the time all the...) though, now I’m always blown away at how much time has past and, often struggling to fit everything in. When I’m in the flow time just disappears, it’s beautiful. It’s just you and the movement in the stillness with an ornate knowing. Free from the created constructs and deep within this organic space. It has no reasoning in the why or how, but a grounding and connectedness with the here and now.

Don’t get me wrong it’s not like I’m super connected all the time and work in a state of meditation all day every day. I mean that would be

great and is really the goal, but there’s a whole bunch of life realities that get in the way - deadlines, punishing projects to pay the bills, sleepless nights with young children/babies. But it is important for me to stay connected to this side of my craft and remind myself that it is on offer when I am willing/able (still not sure if it’s one or the other or a bit of both) to surrender to that space.

Like everything I try to keep it simple, I feel incredibly grateful to be able to do what I love - and I friggen’ love working with wood. Some days that’s easy some days it’s harder then others, and that’s okay. I love it when I get into work in the morning and look up and realise the whole days already flown by and there is a beautiful something in my hands I have created. Being able to loose myself in my work is an absolute gift. My dad told me when I was younger that every body has to work, so you may as well do something you love. Thanks dad.



There is a real grounding in having your hands as your
tool, I’m sure any artist or crafter would agree.

There is something incredibly satisfying about working with your hands. It is empowering. These bare hands, using time old techniques to create something beautiful. I often find myself just looking at my hands. At their leathery surface. The truth is I’m proud of each callous, the once soft spot in my inner palms that has been well worn and hardened over time. The small cuts and splinters sprinkled all over like a map of the previous weeks work.


I think it’s something you never stop perfecting. Each joint,
each angle cut and each glue up, it becomes muscle memory…

each glue up, it becomes muscle memory, as your body learns to react to the timber you’re working on.

When there are two of us in the shop planing some large lengths of timber on the small jointer it honestly feels like a dance. Each length needs different attention from each tool so, with meters between us, we echo the movements of the other, making slight adjustments to account for grain direction, slowing down the feed rate etc. It is a really beautiful thing to be a part of. When working with an organic material no two sticks of timber are the same and one of the first things you will learn is you can only ever work with the wood. Each stick tells a story, shows you how it wants to be worked, what it wants to create and you have to work with it. I’ve heard, when Michelangelo was asked how he was able to craft David from a large rock his response was “It was easy, I just took everything away that was not David.” I relate to this.

There is a real grounding in having your hands as your tool, I’m sure any artist or crafter would agree. Especially today, when most professions involve multiple technologies to operate and people spend most of their days staring at a screen. Don’t get me wrong I definitely rely on these platforms too to an extent, but I am incredibly grateful to be able to spend my days in the shop creating the old school way.

When I was learning to play guitar as a kid I remember my dad telling me, “Everything is easy when you know how to do it,” something that still resonates with me today. Like all crafts, furniture making is something that just takes practice. You have to feel it out, and then repeat over and over again. I can spend forever reading about the best way to perfect my dove tails but until I actually get my hands dirty on the timber and feel the pressure of the saw as it resists each pass I won’t truly understand it. I think it’s something you never stop perfecting. Each joint, each angle cut and


Working with timber on larger projects can be extremely demanding physically. Each process from initial sorting, through to planing long edges ready for joining is a lot of hard work. If you don’t believe me, try hand belt sanding a 4.2m x 1.5m conference table in the peak of summer... We have a mantra in the shop when doing this kind of physically demanding work – ‘Paddle Power’, the harder it is in the workshop, the easier it’s going to be down at the local break when you’re paddling into those big waves. Having said that, the rewards of completing a demanding or ambitious project are always that much more satisfying.

Handmade furniture is a craft, it draws on knowledge gained over centuries of experience. It is the same practice today as it was 100 years ago. The machinery I use in my shop is a lot older than I am and has been a part of the journey for thousands of pieces of furniture before me. I’m sure the majority of those pieces are still around today. Whilst I take incredible pride in my work and every piece I create, I also still feel like an apprentice to my craft. There is still so much to learn. But understanding the path to perfection is a never ending journey keeps me humble.. most of the time.