No Handles, No Knobs

Seven 079, originally uploaded by A. Drauglis Furnituremaker.

One of the joys of being an artist is being able to observe people as they take in and interact with one’s work. I think that this is particularly true with a piece of tactile art; something meant to be touched. Furniture must be touched. Anyone viewing it needs to be able to feel the warmth of the wood, or the chill of its steel. The drawers must be tested and the joints examined.

At almost every arts and crafts show I end up telling a patron that these exhibits are like museums where one is allowed and encouraged to touch (this is not true for every medium, but I believe that the point is clear).
The slab cabinets, such as Seven, as fantastic for facilitating this sort of communication between a work and its viewers.

The initial reaction can be as simple as “Oh, that’s pretty.” They may consider the piece for a moment, and then move slowly towards it. Some will ask if it opens, others will want to know what it is. The best moments are when the viewer figures it out for themselves. It is a self-rewarding instant of discovery.  If someone cannot “get it”, I do not leave him or her hanging for very long; with a gentle demonstration or prompt they are quickly back to experiencing the work on their own.

There was one instance which changed my perception of my own work.

In October 2008 I had Seven displayed at the Crozet (Virginia) Arts & Crafts Festival. I am not sure if this particular patron noticed someone else working the cabinet or if he had uncovered it’s “secret” on his own, but he did take an immediate interest. Then I noticed that he had no hands. One arm stopped just below the elbow, and the other about mid-forearm. He also had some scarring around his head and neck. I had the impression that he was a veteran, but do not know for sure; he did not speak to each other or even make eye contact. He seemed rapt by the wood and the way the drawers functioned, pulling them out with what was left of his limbs, and pushing them back in. Here was a chest of drawers that he could use – no knobs or handles demanding fingers which were no longer there. I had always thought of my design as a clever way of adding functionality to a piece of “Wood As Art”, I had never imagined that it could aid accessibility. There was nothing that I could do to help him get something out of the drawers, but at least he could get them open.

[tags]furniture, artist, observations, wood, woodworking, life[/tags]