LA MADERA

Trees, leaves, limbs, logs, boards, even sawdust; irresistible. I’ve always loved trees, since I was able to pull myself up, one branch to the next. The smell of sawdust in my dad’s wood shop attracted me like a worm on a hook attracts fish. As a biology teacher, you teach best what you like the most. I liked birds, feathers, songs and the fact they can fly. But even more, I liked trees and I liked teaching about trees. When you understand what makes one different from another, they take on personalities and I consider them creatures, if not friends. I love wandering thru nurseries where baby trees are waiting to be delivered. Instead of a stork, you go to the nursery and bring it home in the back of a truck. Once in the ground, it grows, makes shade, makes shelter for other creatures and gives bare ground quality of character like nothing else. I plant trees whenever, wherever I can. When a tree is harvested or cut down, the wood can be good forever; almost. I make things out of wood too. So when I come across a wood working venue, I take great interest in the wood itself and what is being created. 

Yesterday, my nephew Sungho had a piece of wood that needed to be sanded. My thought would be to get some sandpaper but he has a friend who has a furniture shop and we went there. Just south of Seoul, one line of ridges and small mountains after another. Between them, in valleys and canyons it is densely populated with high rise apartments and cramped business districts. We drove up into a narrowing space where wooded hillsides squeezed closer and closer to the road and buildings got smaller. The furniture factory was about the size of a medium size gymnasium. Outside, stacked on the parking lot were a hundred or more, huge slabs of wood. I sensed this wasn’t going to be simple kitchen chairs or plushy sofas. 

We met a sawdust coated man with a respirator who took the little piece of wood and disappeared inside. Through the open door I could see a large, industrial bandsaw, planer and table saws. The smell was wonderful. The plant manager came out and welcomed us. I’m getting used to ignoring the language I don’t understand, tuning in on body language and connecting the other dots as best I can. We were being invited into the show room. Lighting was mostly daylight coming through windows and from a few small fixtures. The ceiling was low and the concrete floor did nothing to showcase the furniture. But then it didn’t need any special effects. There were tables, big tables; made of exotic hardwoods. They were simple enough in design but the mass of the wood was overpowering and the finish was spellbinding, even in the poor light. We went from one table to another, each unique, one of a kind. I knew the answer before I asked but I asked anyway. Sungho translated, “Who are your customers?” Then, I didn’t need the translation coming back. I read perfectly his smile and the thumb, back and forth across finger tips. “Very rich people.” I asked the price for one particular table that I liked. Twelve million Korean Won, or well over $10,000. I thought it would be even more. Making our way back to the shop, I touched as much wood as I could, sliding my finger tips across the grain and palms against the edges. 

Back in the parking lot I saw a huge plank of wood, 5 inches by 4 feet by 10 feet. He saw me eyeing it and said, “Oak”. I guess oak is oak or he knew at least that much english. I started to ask where but he cut me off; “U.S.” OMG, I should have known that. When I shop for wood at specialty stores they always tell me, the best stuff goes to Asia. Boatload after boatload of our best hardwoods are sold abroad every year. On the way back to the car I walked by the slabs I noticed when we arrived; didn’t need someone to tell me they were walnut. I pulled out my smart phone and snapped a photo. I’ve got some walnut in my basement but nothing like this. Sungho had his piece of freshly sanded wood and we were off to do something else.