LOCALadk Magazine

18 Fall 2014 LOCALadk Adirondack Wood Workers By Sarah J Hart Ever since the wealthy of the Gilded Era started building vacation homes in the Adirondacks more than century ago, these slopes and waterways have been dotted with luxurious mansions. Step inside any one of them – whether preserved from the 1800s or finished just yesterday – and you'll almost certainly see extraordinary woodwork in the furnishing and decor: tree roots crawling across the floor, branches and twigs with the bark still on them, carvings of animals, fish, and birds. Woodworking – including the unique style that's come to be known as Adirondack Rustic – has long been a thriving profession in the Adirondacks. The artists and craftsmen are living in our midst; recently, I had the chance to meet with three of them. Jay Dawson Near the airport road in Lake Clear stands a large building that looks like it might be abandoned. The paint is peeling, the plywood has faded to ashy grey, and weeds flourish around obscured windows. The only hint that there might be something of interest inside are the piles of fresh-cut boards, stumps, and occasionally a bit of something hewn or something polished, which appear and disappear from out front. If your curiosity takes you around back to the side door, you'll meet Jay Dawson and learn that this dilapidated building is actually a house of treasures. The first time I stepped into the big, open room, sunlight was slanting through sawdust and Jay, a slim man whose face was almost entirely covered by a mask and ear muffs, emerged from behind an enormous slab of wood he'd been sanding. I learned that this was an oak- wood table, 24 feet long, designed to seat 22 people, and soon to be installed in a nearby private home. As Jay explained the unique challenges of this particular piece – the three-month search for the perfect wood, the leveling and securing of the cedar stumps that were the base – he beamed. For Jay, one of the greatest appeals of this work is the unique story that develops with each piece. Many of his clients become his friends, he said. And the pieces he creates are collaborations: they evolve from the clients' visions, Jay's suggestions and inspirations, and the dictates of the materials. Each piece has its own story, and is its own adventure. Jay was born and bred in the Adirondacks and grew up helping his father on construction and cabinet-making projects. He went to college to become a doctor, but at some point in the thick of it took an extended ski trip and never returned to school. Instead, he moved back to the Adirondacks and began making cabinets. The first commission he had that was actually what he wanted to do, however, was a bed. It was a big four-poster, and Jay incorporated sinewy logs and elegantly curved branches. To sleep in this bed would be to curl into one's own woodland nest. Jay allows the natural shape of the wood to suggest the use to which it will be put. One of the next projects on his plate is a tree-house executive office. Jay envisions a structure that will seem to emerge naturally from the flow of the tree that holds it. "That's right up my alley," he said. "That sort of whimsical, hobbit-y house design." But in fact, it's hard to pin Jay to any particular style. In 2008 he worked with Swedish architect Nils Luderowski to build a chair for the Rustic Tomorrow exhibit at the Adirondack Museum. Their piece was sleek and modernistic, but also incorporated the old-time wood working techniques and style of Adirondack Rustic. Jay also loves reconstruction, or replication of, the old masters' work. He was commissioned recently to recreate a 19th century boat house to look as precisely like the original as possible. It was a project he enjoyed immensely. "You can learn so much from those guys, the original artisans," Jay said. "They had such skill, such creativity." I climbed a ladder to the loft above Jay's workspace. The attic was full of tree bases and stumps, mostly yellow birch, and mostly three to six feet tall. The root masses looked like wild hair, as if we'd just walked in on a party of whirling dancers who froze the instant we arrived. "Look how beautiful that is," Jay said, moving his hand over one of the trunks. Yellow birch is a common tree in the Adirondacks; rarely in the past has it arrested my interest. But now that I was paying attention, I could see sort of silky iridescence in the bark. Indeed, it was beautiful. Jay explained that all his root bases come from land getting cleared for construction – they are all trees slated to die, and many of them would have ended up in a brush pile and burned. Now, instead, they will be incorporated into pieces of art that might endure for centuries. They will be transformed into treasures without, in fact, being changed much at all.

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