Though I am taking time off from work this week, the rest of
the world is busy making things. It’s easy to be awed by what I see people
doing with their lives. This first day away from home has been a study for me
in human creativity and industry.
We are in Vermont with special friends who recently suffered
the loss of two beloved parents. The father — to ensure his family's privacy I'll call him Hann — was a master woodworker who grew up and trained
in Germany. He was an electric, commanding presence who did not like holding
still. My own grandfather was a woodworker from Berlin who came to Southern California to build houses. From the moment I met Hann and his family, I felt a kinship hewn from sawdust and ancestry. Though we are acutely aware of Hann's absence on this visit, we see his handsome work
all about us. It will be impossible to forget him.
The woodworking patriarch loved to spend time on Spirit IIwhich is docked on Lake Champlain.Among the many pieces he made for Spirit II is this table.
Upon waking on the first bright and chilly morning of our stay in Vermont, my friend Berta, who is Hann's daughter-in-law, and I took a walk
in the woods. We both routinely start our day with a little vigorous
exercise outdoors. This morning a strong wind roughed up Burr Pond and sent
leaves scrambling. On September 22 fall finally gave us a sobering nudge. Berta had
her walking sticks and I had my iPhone camera. We plunged on and up.
Such early
morning outings in the woods or along the shore give us time to recharge. We’ve
learned that undistracted time spent outdoors boosts our creativity. And, as
this day has reminded me, humans are, at their core, creative beings.
Berta pointed out the many salamanders crossing the path we took.
Soon
the leaves, which are just starting to turn and fall,
will match the
salamanders’ glorious coloring.
It was so early in the morning that the pond
we hiked to
looked and sounded like it was just waking up.
Hann came to America to practice his craft and support his family. What he started, his son carries on. Erich built and periodically expands the growing plant in Rutland to produce the beautiful wood windows
and doors he and his crew make for customers around the country. Often they are called upon to design windows doors that seem more like works of art than a means of access or merely conveyors of light and fresh air. I've seen groups of architects and contractors gather in Erich's shop to marvel, in awe and respect, at his feats of breathtaking design and workmanship.
Just down the street from Erich's plant is the Carving and Sculpting Center in
West Rutland, site of a former marble quarry. Here carvers and
other artists now gather annually to create and exhibit works made from marble, stone and found objects. The vast grounds are littered with all shades of glistening marble. Sculptural works are found throughout the property. Marble crunches underfoot when you walk. And the sculptors at work on their pieces are covered in marble dust, looking not unlike the pieces they're carving.
33-year-old Alasdair Thomson of Edinburgh, Scotland,
carved
this 2,400-pound wedding dress after a dress
by designer Pnina Tornai. Next
week he moves this piece
to Kleinfield bridal boutique in NYC to sit among the
real gowns.
“If people in the shop don’t realize at first that it’s marble,
then I have succeeded,” he told a newspaper reporter.
Hann started the window and door crafting company
that his son Erich now runs. They
made these windows in the Sculpting Center,
which is built of marble.
Rick Rothrock of Wilmington, Delaware,
is working on this
marble bench for Newburyport, Massachusetts.
It will take him another year to finish the bench.
Here’s another sculpture by Rothrock.
It’s impossible not to
run your hand
along the silky finish of the white marble.
This bittersweet trip to Vermont, spent in affection and appreciation, has been a poignant reminder of the creative drive we all nurture, rue, ignore, and sometimes milk for all it's worth. Whether carving wood or marble, words or song, a juicy roast chicken from the local farm or a classic shoulder-length bob, we all want to pause to recharge and reconsider. It's different for each of us. Hann, whose remarkable drive kindled a network of love and livelihood for many, had Spirit I and II to bring him where he needed to be.