The Intervention
I was tight with the spindle roughing gouge and the skew. Cliff Greaves believed I should see other tools. What began as an intervention into my limited woodturning vocabulary became years of mentorship, sharpening lessons, stubborn declarations about bowls—and, somewhere along the way, family.
Worth Turning?
A damp, slug-covered persimmon log spent years banished to the back of my garage. Eventually, curiosity—and my inability to turn down free wood—won out. Here are the baby pictures of its transformation from questionable firewood to gallery-bound hollow form.
Her Turn:
I only wanted to learn how to use my dad’s lathe. I didn’t expect to find a craft that would change my life—or a community that would become family. This is the story of how a mysterious machine in my father’s workshop led me to the Chapel Hill Woodturners and my first turn at the lathe.
Taking Inventory
Preparing my work for its gallery debut means measuring, naming, pricing—and wrestling with barcode labels. Somewhere between the Post-Its and the 18-character inventory limit, however, I began taking inventory of everything and everyone that helped me arrive here.
Building Blocks
When my former high school carpentry teacher, David Pendergrast, came to see the overwhelming task of reclaiming my dad’s workshop, I expected a quick visit. Instead, one simple instruction—and one afternoon of action—became the first building block in a journey I never could have imagined.