May 25, 2011


If there is one thing you should know, it's that I love old lath. Love it.

Love it.

I dragged this bunch out of a dumpster in Brooklyn. I have this big bundle of it here now, waiting for me to use. I've been saving it. In Brooklyn, it's everywhere since they are always gutting brownstones and dumpsters are left for weeks on end, mostly uncovered. Usually, people are quite happy to have me rummage around in them and take what I want, whether it's because they feel bad about throwing so much away, or they just think it's interesting that I want their trash.

But here in California, there is no lath to be had. All I can do is hope that I have enough for what I've planned for it. Usually {and I better not be jinxing this as I say it} things just work out. Nearly every time, I have just enough wood to fulfill my plan, and that's it. No more, no less. How does this happen? Are there wood gods? Restaurant-building gods?

I think there must be construction site gods. There's freakin' beauty in everything. Sheesh.

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