So about eight or nine years ago I went to San Fransisco, and it was while looking through one of the great gallery shops there that I came across the work of glass artist
Josh Simpson. In addition to many other beautiful glass objects, Simpson creates what he refers to as '
planets'. And that's exactly what these glass spheres look like. Each has exquisite detail under a clear 'atmosphere' surface. Looking in many cases worlds visited by the crew of the Starship Enterprise, or in other case, containing what resembles underwater creatures, each of these planets is unique. Using a kaleidoscope of colors, shiny minerals, twisted elements, and air bubbles, Simpson creates objects that allow our imaginations to run wild.
About a year after seeing the planets in S.F. I was touring the
Chrysler Museum's extensive glass collection in Norfolk, VA, where I came upon one of Simpson's enormous
megaplanets. I was again spellbound looking at this object from every angle, with all of the blue 'oceans', green, red, and iridescent 'land forms', and orbiting 'aircraft' and 'creatures'. I decided to research Josh Simpson's work online, and that's where I learned about the
'Infinity Project'. Simpson, having been inspired by children's marbles that he found outside of his kitchen door, thought about the concept of found objects, especially glass objects. He was intrigued by the thought of finding an object and all the questions that such an experience would conjure: What is it? Where did it come from? What was its purpose?
Inspired, Simpson decided to start 'hiding' his planets, and also to choose at least one person a month to do so as well. Simpson provides selected individuals with two Planets (one to keep, one to hide) inscribed only with the Infinity symbol. Intrigued, I wrote Simpson, expressing my intention to hide one of the planets in one of my projects under construction. I was interested in the notion of cosms that this would create: to have this very small world inserted within the space of a wall inside a building, which was yet a small part of a town or city in one of many countries, on a continent, on our planet, one of many in the universe. I was thrilled to be notified that I was selected as an Infinity Project participant.
As my first design project, an eye care office where I had intended to hid this planet, started into construction I was unexpectedly laid-off from my job, a victim of the late 2001 economic downturn. Unable to place the planet in that project, I decided that I needed to wait until a significant project came along. Some just didn't seem permanent enough, such as the tenant spaces that we designed, with an likely lifespan of about 10-15 years, maybe less. Others just didn't come to fruition. And then there were those that I just didn't feel were quite worthy. Then, a few nights ago it hit me. Here, for the last two years I have been working on a project that has challenged me in many ways and that has inspired determination and become a sort of testing ground for design ideas.
This project has become sort of a personal obsession. What better project than this to place my planet. It seemed appropriate, I realized, considering that one of the joys that I had experienced during this project was the 'artifacts' that I found in the walls and
amidst the ceiling rafters. And it even made me somewhat accept the notion that the walls that I have just built might one day be torn down by a future tenant, a thought that I have had in the past (but moreso from the "with all the work I've done someone better not rip this out" perspective!). I'm now almost excited about the notion of one day (hopefully way in the future) tearing out the wall and finding this small glass globe, and wondering, "What is this?"
Well, this weekend's project didn't exactly go as planned. I know that's bound to happen in the course of a home renovation, but it's still frustrating when it happens. As I continue to yearn for a complete bedroom, my project for this weekend was to begin the refinishing of the wood floors. So I set out on Saturday morning to the local rental center and rented a drum sander and an edger. I had done my research, talked to the man at the tool rental place, gotten all that I thought that I needed, and headed home to get started.
The first task was to prep the floor. This included smaller tasks, such as sweeping and vacuuming the floor (as it was covered with drywall dust) and somewhat larger tasks, such as filling in the portion of flooring that had been cut away for the now removed floor register. That task actually went pretty well, with me beginning by adding reinforcing along the floor joist below, and then removing a portion of flooring from beneath the stairs in the kitchen. (These were the end pieces of some of the flooring where the original floorboards meet the plywood in the kitchen, where the original floorboards were poorly replaced, presumably because of moisture problems or rot. An upcoming project will have me replacing the entire subfloor in the kitchen, including the area beneath the stair that will become the laundry area, so these pieces were fair game.) I cut down these pieces to length and used them to fill in the hole. Being fairly satisfied with that task, I decided it was time to move onto the sanding of the floor. This is when things started to go south...
So, a little history before proceeding. All of the upstairs and the living room downstairs had linoleum tile under the wall to wall carpet when I bought the house. As part of the renovation of the rear bedroom and hallway I've removed these in these areas (I've left them in the front bedroom, which will receive new wall-to-wall carpet, and the living room, which will receive new hardwood). Though these tiles came up rather easily, and though most of the sticky residue had become less 'tacky' due to the subsequent layers of dirt, plaster dust, and drywall dust that had fallen on it in the course of
construction, unfortunately the adhesive had become absorbed into the surface of the wood enough so that as I began to sand the floor, the sandpaper sheets became quickly gummed up. The sheets of sandpaper were supposed to sand approximately 100 sf, but I couldn't go more than about 4-6 linear feet without the sandpaper being rendered useless by the gummy residue. Feeling defeated, and with daylight fleeting, I decided to cleanup and start again the following morning.
Sunday included two trips to different Home Depots to try to find more sandpaper for the drum sander, though unfortunately the drum sander that I rented, which used Velcro to adhere the sheets (which the guy at the rental center said was easier), was different then those rented at Home Depots, which used a continuous belt. While I therefore was not able to get more sandpaper for the drum sander, I was at least able to get more sandpaper discs for the edger. And, as I was not willing to completely admit defeat, I ended up using the edger to sand down the landing, which I think with a little work might be able to be stained with okay results (considering that I'm staining the floors an espresso finish).
So now I'm up in the air about what to do in the rear bedroom though. While it seems like I might be able to sand down the floors, it seems that it will also take a lot of effort. Having the floors professionally refinished on the other hand is a costly proposal, and it would likely be cheaper to put down a new engineered floor, as I'm planning to do downstairs. My concerns regarding that, however, center around the fact that the upstairs floor isn't level, and I'm not sure how that can be dealt with in this particular case. The other option is to just carpet both the front and the rear bedrooms, but I'm not fully sold on that option. So I'm going to continue to research and see if there is any way to deal with the adhesive residue and continue with the refinishing. Stay tuned...
