By Lawrence W. Cheek
I was recently gifted a copy of The Year of the Boat, by my good friend Claire Acord. The author, Lawrence W. Cheek, is the architecture critic for the Seattle Post Intelligencer and is a neighbor of Claire's on Whidbey Island, an artistically inclined suburb of Seattle, Washington. My hardbound copy of his book is signed and addressed to me. I feel a kinship with Lawrence, not just because of the personalized signature, but also since he understands the travails of building a handcrafted boat.
Lawrence had built a boat before, a kayak kit. He’d also taken a class in strip-planking another kayak. He was possessed of confidence and a romantic dream when he ordered plans for Sam Devlin’s Zephyr. The Zephyr is a simplified plywood version of a Delaware duck hunting boat called a melonseed. Sam designed it for the amateur builder and Lawrence insists he is just that person.
The culture of wooden boats has instilled on our imaginations a romantic vision of fine craftsmanship, which allows little room for error. Thus, amateur builders often fall in a trap constructed of their own expectations. Lawrence runs headlong into this cul-de-sac when he, early on, names his creation Far From Perfect.
The story of Far From Perfect is mostly about how imperfect the boat really is. The word “perfect” crops up too often for the name to be off-handed humor. I silently begged Lawrence to not belabor the subject, but he can’t help it. The dinghy becomes an obsession with perfection and a chronicle of errors.
The Year of the Boat is written for the first time builder. Lawrence Cheek wants a novice to understand that the process of becoming a craftsman is not simple or easy. With his elegant prose, I wish he’d spent more time explaining the pure joy of the process.
Wooden boat building can be a metaphor. We often attach meaning to a beautiful vessel, well beyond it’s practical worth. But, after an exhaustive search for meaning, Lawrence finally comes around to dollars and cents. He tells us his hours spent on the project are four times those projected by the plans, which I can understand, but his material expenditures are a whopping $4175. He could have built four Zephyrs, there must be a clerical error.
In my photo archives, I have a picture of Far From Perfect. My friend Joel Bergen also built a Zephyr and he and Lawrence launched their boats together one afternoon. Far From Perfect is the red hull with the varnished decks. Looks pretty darn good from here.
If you were thinking of building your first boat, I would recommend reading The Year of the Boat. In this book, you will find wisdom, frailty, humor, despair and beauty.
A metaphor for life, if you will.
13 comments:
A very thoughtful review thanks Michael. Those ideas of meaning and perfection certainly seem to be ones that are often projected onto our discretionary activities in ways that we don't project them into regular work. Your comment about this work being a metaphor rang my bells.
A very well written post, thank you. I guess there are as many reasons for building your own boat as there are types of boats. Rarely is it because you actually need one. The pursuit of perfection can be quite a stumbling block at times, but who really wants a lumpy boat. Finding a level that allows progress seems to be the key to any artistic endevour that can consume a couple of years.
It was the largest gathering of Devlin Zephyrs the world has ever known.
Perhaps the only Devlin Zephyrs the world has ever known?
I often speak of boatbuilding as a life metaphor because the process involves every human emotion. But I insist it should have a heavy emphasis on the joy of creation, or you should simply buy a boat and leave out the pain and suffering.
Denis, I assume you speak of need in the strictest sense, as in food and shelter. I, for one, would be empty indeed without my boats. For some of us, boatbuilding is more than a hobby, it's a lifestyle.
There were at least three other Zephyrs out there. I miss mine. It was an ideal lake boat. Fast and easily set up. It would have been even better with a sail that could be reefed. If I were building another I'd be very tempted to try a balanced lug.
Aren't you supposed to be working? ;-)
As I finished the rigging for my melonseed (with a sprit rig), it was obvious there might be problems having that sail up forward in such a precarious position. I'm not interested in going swimming while dousing the sail in a sudden gale. I could convert to a balanced lug pretty easily and just might do it.
If you want to build another 'seed, I could send you plans for mine...
Yeah, I'm supposed to be :-)
There's nothing like a good capsize in the Salish Sea to teach one the importance of reefing. Besides that, I think a 'seed would look sharp sporting a balanced lug rig. Either way I'm looking forward with great anticipation to the launch of the Doryman 'Seed.
Returning to the topic of a novice having unrealistic expectations, I think it comes with attempting any functional art form. Like luthiers and furniture builders, the novice boatbuilder has a a very high benchmark to work to before the plans are even bought. The number of almost perfect craft in the glossy mags and web sites seems endless, quite a lot by first timers. Why not expect that you can too. Reality for some is different, making expensive kindling seems a weekly happening and redesigning to suit your incompetence becomes the norm. Fortunately for most of us, it's fun regardless, far from pain and suffering.
When I teach a class, I look for improvement, not perfection. I love to see someone get excited about their new skills and talk about the next boat they'll build.
Tom Dunderdale's Imp canoe yawl, that's the next one.
Denis.
I've considered that one myself.....
Three plans were bought prior to deciding to go for my own, the Zephyr, Ross Lillistone's Phoenix and the Imp. Quite different to what I am building. I find buying plans similar to buying books, you learn so much. Tom Dunderdale has refined the balanced lug more than most, unsure I'll end up with quite the level of control that he suggests, but there'll be room to add it later if I see the need. His canoe designs certainly stir the imagination, double enders have a way of doing that. While I'll be happy enough to finish the present build, the brain's always ticking over.
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