I've been working on a multi-level personal secretary, a commission. She asked me to make a cabinet with six unusual compartments. So I started thinking about differently-shaped doors and drawers.
I came up with this basic design, and started construction.
I realized it would be a good idea to make a diagram numbering each piece so I could keep track of them as I cut them.
So, over the months, as time allowed (which it didn't do very often) began to build the piece, starting with cutting the various pieces, covering them in a layer of neutral-colored paper and acrylic matte medium, and joining them together when they were ready. As I worked, I learned what steps had to be done before others, and what techniques worked and what didn't.
Even though all the levels weren't constructed, I couldn't help myself from moving on to covering the first layer with the final papers.
Since then, I've been putting in many more hours, and made quite a bit of progress. As you can see, I decided to reverse the orientation of the top layer.
Here's the thing: when I describe the series to people (not easy), or sometimes when people see the pictures I post, they say "That sounds really cute" or "Your work is so cute." Hmmm. "Cute" is not the first word I would want to come to people's minds when looking at my work. "Clever," maybe. "Intriguing," definitely. But as I keep working, like today, making a small beach scene that fits in one of the drawers, and it was turning out to be rather "cute," I wondered if the project is doomed to be "precious." And yet, the choices I'm making feel true and right for the piece. How can I rescue it from mere cuteness?