“The test of a man’s insight is his willingness to plant a tree under whose shade he’ll never sit.” ( of unknown origin taken from a wall-plaque at Seacrest Village in Encinitas.)
I just revisited some of the “known” trees in my life starting with one at the duplex in the San Fernando Valley that my father and a friend built in the late 1940’s. Laurel went by last week to photograph the tree (of unknown species) that was planted when the house was built. This 
large specimen, about sixty years old, dominates the front yard of the home now sandwiched between large apartment complexes on Bellingham Avenue where I grew up. ( click on any image to enlarge )
Living in Southern California, essentially a desert, means there have been very few large deciduous (hardwood) trees in my everyday life. City dwellers here don't plant many large trees; they can create major conflicts in urban/suburban environments, broken sidewalks and clogged drains for starters. And trees need care in a city environment, water and soil and sun, periodic pruning and they need to be cleaned up after. Like kids, they require time and energy, but enrich our lives immeasurably in return.
Barbara and I bought our first house in a quiet neighborhood near SDSU. The back yard had a Chinese Elm tree and we added a Sycamore sapling in the front yard to mark our five-year anniversary. Here they are today, estimated to be thirty and sixty years old respectively.
Later we moved to a new tract home where we planted a white birch and an apricot; the developer planted eucalyptus. Today the eucalyptus and white birch are gone, but the apricot tree has flourished. While there, the husband of the couple we sold to drove up and we talked. 
He said the apricot tree produces a large crop every other year with a modest crop on the off-years. But in any year the fruit must be harvested quickly or the birds will have a banquet and eat it all.
We did not plant any trees at our Encinitas house of eight years; Eucalyptus already occupied the prime sites. Our current house in Carlsbad came with lots of trees: mostly liquidambar, but also a fruitless pear and a large pine, a Christmas tree that was planted by the previous owner. This year we planted an olive tree near where the pine was cut down shortly after moving in.
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Sam Maloof died in mid 2009 at the age of 93. When Barbara and I went to the Design in Wood show at the Del Mar fair in August Maloof-inspired work was everywhere. But frankly, most of it was “show-off” stuff that just called attention to the woodworker and didn’t have the refinement and subtlety of great craft.
When Dad and I visited Maloof’s home workshop with a small group of woodworkers some thirty years ago he demonstrated cutting out an arm-piece for a chair on a bandsaw with a slim blade set very taught. In a few short minutes of freehand sawing he shaved away slivers of wood as he twisted and turned the walnut blank to reveal a beautifully sculpted arm that only needed light filing to finish the shape. It was apparent from the way his hands moved so fluidly on the bandsaw that he had gone through the motions a thousand times before, not a wasted stroke. Someone asked if he used calipers to gauge the thickness of the parts for consistency and he grinned and held up his hand tapping his thumb and fingers together. “Here are my calipers,” he said. I couldn't help but notice one shortened finger.
The 1950’s Maloof chair we have is not flashy in any way. My uncle went to Maloof’s home shop (the only way one could order a piece of his furniture) and ordered a single dining chair of the design being produced by Maloof at the time. The chair didn’t work out in my Uncle’s home and when he gave it to my mother in the sixties it ended up stored in a shed at one of the rental properties for a decade or more. I took up woodworking in the seventies and it was mentioned there was a chair of possible interest at the old Edstrum house. When I retrieved the Maloof chair there was also a Thonet bent-wood swivel chair that had unfortunately been devoured beyond salvage by termites. The Maloof chair was fine.
The simple design of our ‘50’s chair is early in the evolution of his flowing sculptural style but the closer you look, the more there is to appreciate: the interesting joinery that is so elegantly wedded to the design and structural strength of the chair, the way he achieves so much with so little, the integrity of a seat-frame sanded and finished on the underside just the same as the parts that show.
Sam Maloof chose to become a craftsman at a time when most of his contemporaries were eagerly pursuing industrialization and the corporate path. Completely self-taught, he could have sold the rights to his designs for large sums of money but the personal nature of making a piece of furniture for a specific person was central to his work; mass production was of no interest. Before his death he was the only living craftsman to have work in the White House ( Ronald Reagan and Jimmy Carter were both fans ), his work is in the Smithsonian and he was awarded a McArthur Foundation “genius” grant.
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When we first married and lived in a rented house in Pacific Beach, there was a mature apricot tree in the back yard. ( Barbara and puppy shown with it ) We pruned the tree and I cut a number of small boards from the largest branches, air-dried them for a couple of years and then made cribbage boards from the golden colored wood.
It was the only time I made something from wood not purchased at a lumber yard. Making something from a “known” tree has a special energy. It completes the process of transforming a living thing…that dies…and giving it new life as a beautiful and useful object. Woodworking: making butterflies from catepillars. Of course, lots of sawdust is created in the process of distilling a finished piece of woodwork, much like the sawdust created in our own lives over time! May we emerge as beautiful and useful people!
"The reverence that the object maker has for the materials, for the shape, and for the miracle of his skill transcends to God, the Master Craftsman, the Creator of all things, who uses us, our hands, as His tools to make these beautiful things." ( Sam Maloof )
One of our liquidambar trees died and we had it cut down this year. I saved two lengths of the trunk, planning to mill them into boards and use them when they’ve seasoned. 
It has rekindled a desire to return to woodworking, but this time with an emphasis on using “known” wood. Here is my proposition for those of you who might be cutting down or pruning a “known” tree this year that would be suitable for woodworking: fruit and nut trees as well as hardwood (deciduous) trees. I will mill the “logs” for you, store and dry the wood over the next few years, and then make something for you when the wood is ready. 
When the time comes we will work together on a commission piece that fits your needs, your budget, and the constraints of the wood you have provided. I can utilize fairly small quantities of wood by “stack laminating” and cutting veneers. Any takers? 
( Stack laminated sculpture of African Padouk shown along with Maloof-inspired walnut rocker built for Barbara when she was pregnant with Laurel.)
Global climate change demands a change in our relationship to trees and our attention to the “urban forest.” We clearly recognize that animals and plants need each other for respiration and life on this, the blue planet, our living home. Plants breathe-in the carbon we breathe-out and we breathe-in the oxygen they breathe-out. Having large trees in the (sub)urban environments where so much carbon production is sourced makes sense. The benefits derived from trees are so extensive and varied ( economic, environmental and spiritual ) that I dare not get started. After all, there are cultures who have worshipped trees, not without good reason.
Woodworking naturally creates an intimate relationship with trees, and I want to expand "tree consciousness" this year by helping plant at least six large deciduous trees in greater San Diego. We may not be able to quit driving or stop using electricity but we can plant a tree! It is empowering to do something that curtails global warming that's not just about alternative production and conservation. A restored urban forest is a legacy that will nurture the world for generations. I would like to work with any of you who want to plant a large tree this year. A master-gardener friend of Barbara’s has volunteered ( she doesn’t know it yet ) to provide advice on choosing a species and counsel regarding the site/care/maintenance. We will, of course, have a ceremonial planting together!
Any takers? Resolve to plant a tree this year! Make it special: in memory of someone you love, to commemorate a special occassion, birthday, wedding, anniversary, graduation, house purchase, bar mitzvah, birth. Plant one as a blessing for the future, plant one to heal the earth, plant one for the love in it! Call me and let's do it together! Happy 2011 to all. Love and best wishes, Kent
"There’s a lot of work being done today that doesn’t have any soul in it. The technique may be the utmost perfection, yet it is lifeless. It doesn’t have a soul. I hope my furniture has a soul to it." (Sam Maloof)
"It is amazing how one chair begets many. But each chair is designed individually. It is a living thing." ( Sam Maloof)
( Rosewood table with walrus ivory )
