Intarsia Woodworking: A Journey with Kathy Wise
You ever sit down with a warm cup of coffee and just think about how life throws you into one strange adventure after another? That’s what happened to me with intarsia woodworking. I’d been drooling over Kathy Wise’s work for a while. I mean, you look at those intricate pieces she creates—bears, trees, and all sorts of wildlife—and you can’t help but feel a tug at your heartstrings. So, one day, I thought, “Why not give this a shot?”
Now, I’ll be honest with you. My woodworking experience before this? Well, let’s just say I built a few picnic tables and a couple of rustic birdhouses. Nothing that required much finesse. But hey, I figured, how hard could it be?
Diving In (Mistakes and All)
So, there I was, all excited, with my freshly downloaded patterns and a couple of pieces of wood from the local hardware store. I wasn’t quite ready for the rabbit hole I was about to jump into. I picked up some poplar and cedar—I thought the cedar would smell great while I worked. It’s got that lovely aromatic fragrance that wafts through the air, almost like you’re sitting in a cozy cabin. But let me tell you, things went downhill quicker than a squirrel on a greased pole.
I’d read somewhere that having sharp tools was key. Exalted by the idea of miraculous results, I bought a new scroll saw. I went for a mid-range model, it was a Dewalt, maybe a bit overkill for a beginner, but it felt solid in my hands. The buzz of that saw, the chance to create something beautiful—it was all so exciting! But, my plans went south faster than I could’ve imagined.
The Great Sanding Debacle
I was halfway through the first cut—sawing away like a kid at a candy store—when I realized I was getting these jagged edges. I mean, I had seen the lovely smooth curves in Kathy’s work, and here I was, sporting wood pieces that looked like I’d taken a hatchet to them. I almost gave up right there, feeling defeated. I remember sitting back, sipping my coffee way too fast, and thinking, “What’s wrong with me?”
That’s when I learned about sanding. Oh boy! The ol’ sander. I had one of those little palm ones, a Black & Decker. It felt like a toy compared to my scroll saw. But lo and behold, once I got the hang of it (after a few expletives were exchanged with the too-smooth cedar), I started to see some progress. The smell of wood dust mixed with that cedar aroma? Pretty satisfying, I gotta say.
Embracing the Curves
As I moved along, I encountered my next challenge: the curves. Kathy’s intarsia work had those beautifully flowing lines, but mine? They looked like they had been drawn by a toddler. I remember trying to carve out a bear, and it turned into a weird blob. I could almost hear my friends laughing in the background if they saw my “artwork.” But there was something oddly liberating about failing spectacularly every time; like it was inviting me to try again.
After a few very bold attempts, I finally got to the point where I embraced my missteps and started to see each failure as a stepping stone. I learned about grain direction, which I wish I had understood earlier. The way that wood tells you what it wants to be if you just take a moment to listen.
Those Happy Accidents
Honestly, looking back, I surprised myself. There was this one moment that still makes me chuckle. I was putting together a piece—a sun setting behind mountains, and it actually went together beautifully! I almost couldn’t believe it. All those failed attempts, those stubbed fingers, and there it was, coming together against all odds! I sat back, coffee in hand, wiping my brow in disbelief, thinking, "Maybe I’m not hopeless after all."
And let’s talk about the colors. The vibrant tones of mahogany, oak, and walnut! They’ve got this richness that just can’t be captured in pictures. But mixing those stains to get a gradient even remotely similar to what I had seen in Kathy’s work? That was another beast altogether. The first couple of tries looked like someone had thrown paint on a canvas. But after some trial and error—who knew how fun it could be to play with color blending!
A Community of Makers
But it wasn’t just about the wood and tools. I quickly found a community online that was just as passionate about intarsia. I started sharing my progress on forums, and the encouragement I got was incredible. It transformed this solitary hobby into something I genuinely looked forward to; meeting others who understood the struggle of trying to get a tight fit for those little wood pieces was priceless.
The Sweet Outcome
In the end, after months of learning by doing—making mistakes, cursing, laughing, and finally creating—I completed my first significant piece. It wasn’t flawless, but it had character, you know? I remember the smell of fresh wood, the sound of my scroll saw buzzing, and that moment of triumph when I finished applying a coat of finish to bring out the grains. Just a simple scene of a bear in a forest, but it felt like a badge of honor. I couldn’t help but smile the moment I hung it on my wall.
Take a Leap
So, to anyone out there thinking about taking up intarsia or any other woodwork project, just go for it. Honestly, the journey is filled with mistakes, but those mistakes? They lead to the most incredible moments of satisfaction. If you fail? Laugh it off and try again. It’s almost poetic in a way—every piece tells a story, including the blunders. So grab some wood, a few tools, and dive in! You never know what you’ll end up creating—or how far you’ll go. Trust me; it’s worth it.
