A Craft of Senses: The Journey of John Furniss, the Blind Woodworker
Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you thought, “What am I doing with my life?” I was sitting in my small workshop last week, a tangle of wood shavings at my feet and half-finished projects scattered about. That’s when I stumbled upon the story of John Furniss, a blind woodworker. Man, that guy is something else.
Now, I’ll admit, I’m not one for celebrity stories or inspirational figures. I like my stories real and grounded, just like the smell of fresh-cut pine and the sound of a table saw humming. But when I read about John, I couldn’t help but feel a connection, even though our worlds are so different.
A Workshop of Your Own
Let me paint you a picture of my workshop. It’s beat up, really. The walls are a weary beige with paint peeling off — I think I inherited it from someone who thought a fishing cabin could be a woodworking shop. There’s a bench that’s seen better days, all gnarly and scarred from my many attempts at making something that resembles furniture. I’ve got a mishmash of tools—some ancient hand saws passed down from my grandfather, a modern belt sander that I somehow convinced my wife I needed, and an old drill I found at a yard sale. The vibe is more “lived-in” than “professional,” but it works for me.
Hearing about John made me reflect on my own experience with limitations. I remember the first time I tried to use my grandfather’s hand tools. I had a piece of oak I was turning into a tabletop, and I thought I’d easily create something stunning. It turned into an absolute mess. The chisels were dull, I didn’t know the right grain to work with, and let’s not even get started on my first attempt at sanding. I laughed when I finally gave up and decided to just embrace the wonky look. But hey, it was a learning experience, right?
Seeing with Your Heart, Not Your Eyes
John Furniss is blind. Yep, you heard that right, a blind guy creating these exquisite wooden pieces. The first time I read that, I almost dropped my coffee cup. It hit home for me that we often let our fears limit our capabilities. My struggles suddenly felt small compared to his. Here was a man who felt the grain of the wood, listened to the sounds of his tools, and built a world of his own, all without sight.
It made me think about how much I rely on my vision in my workshop. Like that time I was trying to cut dovetails. I had my glasses on, squinting, cursing every time I made an uneven cut. The joy of woodworking is often lost when you’re too focused on trying to get everything perfect. I stumbled through the project, and, honestly, I almost tossed the whole thing in the trash. But then I decided to step back, take a breath, and just listen to the rhythm of the saw. When I did that, I was surprised how much better I became. It was like John was nudging me, showing me that there’s more than one way to “see” your work.
Lessons Through Mistakes
Speaking of mistakes, I remember this one time when I thought I’d try my hand at a rocking chair. Felt like a crazy idea, but hey, why not? I had some maple lying around—sweet-smelling, beautiful—but I clearly underestimated the time it would take. After what felt like hours of sanding, I finally got the joints together. Only to find out I completely miscalculated the angle. I ended up with what could only be described as a traitor chair, one that didn’t rock unless you gave it a good nudge.
Instead of throwing the whole thing away, I decided to continue. I modified the design, turning it into a simple bench instead. Oddly enough, it grew on me. There it sat, a testament to my stubbornness, and a reminder that sometimes failure leads to unexpected beauty. And maybe that’s what John has taught me without ever having met him.
Finding Connection Beyond the Wood
One of the things I find heartwarming about John’s story is the community he creates around himself. Even without sight, he connects with others through workshops and collaborations. Sometimes I get so caught up in my projects, I forget to share what I’m doing with others. I remember making a simple toy for my granddaughter and sitting her down to watch me make it. The wonder in her eyes, laughing and asking questions, made my day. I think that’s what John is all about too—getting people to come together and create something beautiful, regardless of their limitations.
I think we all have that moment, that inspiration that drives us to build, whether it’s a rocking chair or a simple shelf for our tools. If anything, John has shown me that wood isn’t about perfection; it’s about the journey and the people we share it with.
So, What’s the Takeaway?
At the end of the day, after I’ve struggled trying to make something new, or when I spend hours just listening to the sound of the wood being shaped, I remind myself: if you’re thinking about trying this, just go for it. Don’t let fear or problems stop you. You might find that beautiful unexpected bench waiting just around the corner—or better yet, a community waiting to welcome you into their world. Whether you’re a seasoned carpenter or just someone who wants to dabble in wood, remember that the journey is what truly matters. And who knows? You might just surprise yourself.
