But Does It Float

Cedar, Ash, Nylon

If I should build a boat,

I will sweat

I will bleed

My hands will become a map of splinters that point me back to our labor.

And I will then be a man.

Because According to a builder’s field guide from the ’30s

Every true man has built his own canoe

But my boat will be a body

Which will take on water

Veer off course

And be difficult to captain

“But does it float” was a result of many factors. Namely, while trying to figure out joinery from an old woodworking book I came across a line that stated, “A man is not a woodworker until he has built his first canoe” I was immediately taken by the challenge. I worked to bastardize a traditional 16-foot x 30-inch canoe design and smushed it into an 8-foot x 41-inch design.

And in the end, I made a fat, squatty canoe, that is trying really hard to be a canoe. Although every attempt brought her further away from it. She is by all functional standards a failure. Her rudder will sink her, her spine will most likely cause her to veer off course, and her swollen belly is not designed for a captain.  She is floating in the air, though her supports are visible, and it is questionable if she will ever see the water. With her equally distorted companion, She hangs somewhere between function and dysfunction in total confidence. Unfazed by the question of her worth “but does it float”.