Mission accomplished!
I am so psyched. You'll have to bear with me because I kind of think I am the greatest right now... In words and pictures?
Okay!
to when I was born, and extends up until approximately fall 2006. The story is this: I didn't know how to build ANYTHING (with wood. I make a mean vase and am pretty good with puppets, I'll have you know). But woodworking? I was a totally dunce. Seriously. I decided, in grade 8, to take Home Economics because it was easier and I would get to eat more. I was right. Anyway, this fall, I finally learned how to use nails and screws and wood and glue and saws and powertools and all that kind of stuff in my awesome Set Design class.
Chapter 2: I'm still learning, but back in September, I decided I would build my own easel. I didn't do it in September, and I didn't seem to show any sign of actually doing it ever except for excitement. Which is probably what prompted my relatives to (although I expressly told them NOT TO DO THIS) purchase an expensive metal easel for me from the local art store. Actually, no, wait. My parents purchased it on my grandparents' suggestions. Clearly, 2 opportunities to say "hey, wait. Didn't she just tell us like yesterday that she was looking up plans on the internet to build her own easel?" Flashforward to Christmas eve. I start talking to my parents about the easel design (tripod, that way it can fold up!) and when we could build/where/what materials/tools we had. Christmas morning, I open an easel. Am noticeably disappointed.
Here's where I start sounding like a spoiled brat (and hey, it looks like I am. I can't REALLY deny it, but, in my defense, I REALLY wanted to build something I'd planned and that was functional). My parents informed me that I could return it (for hella credit at ye olde locale arte store), and, at first, out of courtesy, I said "no, really it's okay, blah blah blah" but once I started to think about it more, I began to realize that I REALLY WANTED TO BUILD AN EASEL. So I took them up on their offer (of course, we had to build the thing first to make sure it would actually work).
Aaaaaand, after 15$ in materials, some pretty major modifications to this simple plan, and 2.5 hours of labour, I have exactly what I need!
This is my baby on its own. Unfortunately I have no pictures of its birth/construction, but it was built in our basement (low ceilings, dark, very little space) so it's not really worth it, anyway. It stand about 6.5 feet tall. :)
Oh yeah, by the way, my room's a mess. Just in case, you know, you didn't notice.
See? I totally made it. I'm in the picture to prove it.
My dad was awesome and introduced me to the tools we actually have in our house (I've been spoiled by the shop, let me tell you) and helped me modify the design/not get harassed by hardware workers. One day I will be much more competent in woodworking, but for now he's a good safety-net.
So if I'm glowing with pride for my (meager) accomplishment(s) in the next few days, this is why.
Okay!
to when I was born, and extends up until approximately fall 2006. The story is this: I didn't know how to build ANYTHING (with wood. I make a mean vase and am pretty good with puppets, I'll have you know). But woodworking? I was a totally dunce. Seriously. I decided, in grade 8, to take Home Economics because it was easier and I would get to eat more. I was right. Anyway, this fall, I finally learned how to use nails and screws and wood and glue and saws and powertools and all that kind of stuff in my awesome Set Design class.
Chapter 2: I'm still learning, but back in September, I decided I would build my own easel. I didn't do it in September, and I didn't seem to show any sign of actually doing it ever except for excitement. Which is probably what prompted my relatives to (although I expressly told them NOT TO DO THIS) purchase an expensive metal easel for me from the local art store. Actually, no, wait. My parents purchased it on my grandparents' suggestions. Clearly, 2 opportunities to say "hey, wait. Didn't she just tell us like yesterday that she was looking up plans on the internet to build her own easel?" Flashforward to Christmas eve. I start talking to my parents about the easel design (tripod, that way it can fold up!) and when we could build/where/what materials/tools we had. Christmas morning, I open an easel. Am noticeably disappointed.
Here's where I start sounding like a spoiled brat (and hey, it looks like I am. I can't REALLY deny it, but, in my defense, I REALLY wanted to build something I'd planned and that was functional). My parents informed me that I could return it (for hella credit at ye olde locale arte store), and, at first, out of courtesy, I said "no, really it's okay, blah blah blah" but once I started to think about it more, I began to realize that I REALLY WANTED TO BUILD AN EASEL. So I took them up on their offer (of course, we had to build the thing first to make sure it would actually work).
Aaaaaand, after 15$ in materials, some pretty major modifications to this simple plan, and 2.5 hours of labour, I have exactly what I need!
This is my baby on its own. Unfortunately I have no pictures of its birth/construction, but it was built in our basement (low ceilings, dark, very little space) so it's not really worth it, anyway. It stand about 6.5 feet tall. :)
Oh yeah, by the way, my room's a mess. Just in case, you know, you didn't notice.
See? I totally made it. I'm in the picture to prove it.
My dad was awesome and introduced me to the tools we actually have in our house (I've been spoiled by the shop, let me tell you) and helped me modify the design/not get harassed by hardware workers. One day I will be much more competent in woodworking, but for now he's a good safety-net.
So if I'm glowing with pride for my (meager) accomplishment(s) in the next few days, this is why.