"Stuff is stuff — it's replaceable, more so when you can make it. So I don't fret about stuff."
We connected with Naomie after she reached out to share a bit about her carving journey — and we're glad she did. She's a self-taught maker from a small town in upstate New York, just north of the Adirondacks, with a philosophy about wood, tools, and life that we thought was worth sharing. Here's a look at her story!
Tell us a little about yourself and where you're from.
I am 42, from NY state, a little town in the Champlain Valley — 16 miles from the Canadian border and just north of the Adirondack Mountains. I refer to it as "West Crazy"... but it's actually Chazy — French, so it is said like "Shazy" with a hard A. I grew up in the woods and mountains. My father hauled logs and my uncle was a forester.
How did you get into carving?
I started carving seriously during COVID. At the time I was the scheduler for Leader Evaporator, and they eliminated my position after the grants were gone. I needed a hobby I could source my own materials for, and I started with chopsticks — I was doing jointed ones at the time. I incorporated inlay because of a split piece of maple that screamed to be a spoon.
Were you already a maker before carving came along?
Realistically, I am a maker in general. I was metalworking and enameling before I picked up carving. I sew my own clothes, loom knit my own socks, mend before cast aside, cut, form, and enamel copper jewelry, bead, leather work, paint in oil, acrylic, and water, draw in charcoal, and take macro photos of insects — which I started on a 35mm SLR and developed them in black and white back in the day.
Before my father drove trucks, he was a fabricator. He was a Navy Seabee, then worked for Harris Graphics. I inherited this weird ability to see a completed item and basically understand how it was done. This creates a constant thought: "I see how they did that — could I do it too?" I don't watch videos; I can't learn anything that way. I have books and found articles and cross-referenced them, so teaching myself new things is a norm for me.
Why do you make?
Mostly, I make when everything goes sideways. I take anger, regret, and pain and use it to make something that is fun, useful, and sometimes striking. I very rarely remember the process — just the beginning and the finished product.
I make because I thrive on learning new things. Using those things to work through life's blockades — the same. It's kinda like not planning for anything creative, just waiting for the materials to inspire you.
The question isn't "can I do something?" — it's "how long will it take me to learn how to?" and "how long will it challenge me?"
Do you have a favorite wood to work with?
I like cherry — it's my favorite. One, it grows all around me. Two, it's a hardwood but on the lower end of the Janka scale. Three, the figuring. Maple and apple are my next favorites because, well, they're all around me and they are always a surprise. Maple has a special place because of maple sugaring memories with family, and my favorite climbing tree when I was younger is an apple tree that was there when my dad grew up, and it's still producing. It is hard to dry, and if it's dry it's several expletives to carve.
However, there is one type I will take and carve if I can get it, no matter what — lilac wood. You can't plan anything. You get a feel for what you can get, and if the piece doesn't agree, well, it will break sure enough. It is striped with a deep purple, much like purpleheart, and while you carve it releases a floral scent. It is an incredibly organic experience that helps to lay out that you're not in control, and it's okay.
How do you approach each piece?
I draw the design on my blank based on what is there, so there isn't one that has a duplicate. I try to keep everything but the finish and the adhesive natural. I buy discard cutoff boxes when I can't harvest myself — it's kinda like not planning for anything creative, just waiting for the materials to inspire you.
What tools can you not live without?
I couldn't live without my finger planes and tiny orange palm-sized ones. My spoon knives and micro carvers are next. I have small hands — the big handles are too hard to hold. I actually made a spoon scorp out of an old enclosed wrench.
I wish I had found yours first, but I bought an inexpensive starter set before I would commit. When I committed, I bought your bigger set on Amazon, then made sure to let them know in my review that anyone complaining about them not being sharp enough should have spent the extra and has no business with it at all — since you have to regularly sharpen them. Then I replaced my starter set with the mini set you released. I will be saving up for the spoon set.
What's the piece you're most proud of?
I put some thought into this. It would be a tobacco pipe. A local shop owner asked me if I could make some for his shop. After scouring sources all over the web and books, I found that if the special material they are typically made from isn't available, fruit woods are the best substitute.
So, it is a raven skull with a swiveling top. The base is carved from cherry and sealed with wax. The cover is maple layered with padauk. A stainless metric screw embedded in the layers with no top thread makes the swivel pin, and neodymium magnets keep it in place. I had some issues with my hole placement and the vise gave out, so I punched a hole in the back — and that hole I filled with a stainless pin. I used a brass tube to support the draw.
This actually inspired me to plan a churchwarden. I have my stem started; however, I haven't had any other materials really jump at me for the piece yet.
Anything else you want people to know about you or your making philosophy?
Stuff is stuff — it's replaceable, more so when you can make it. So I don't fret about stuff. It's a waste of time.
Why am I like this? Combination of ADHD, oldest child in a family who made more tools than bought, and probably a house fire at 15 at 1 AM. I carried my 1-year-old brother out of the house. It was very clear that stuff is stuff.
Thanks for sharing your story with us, Naomie. We'll be keeping an eye out for that churchwarden when the right piece of wood finally speaks up.
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