Skywater

This round’s blog-off topic caught me a little off-guard. Well, they all do, which is the object of the game: a random question lobbed at you from the intertubes, requiring a reflexive response. It’s reminiscent of catching a glimpse of an approaching Frisbee in your periphery and either ducking the impending blow or rising to the moment by catching it and returning the volley as gracefully as possible. I tend to examine topics from an internalized, alternate perspective –  some might say “skewed” – but there are enough viewpoints which take the direct frontal approach that I don’t feel the need to follow suit; I go rambling off in another direction. Careening across a verbal landscape, I will remain true to form or freeform, as it were.

I have been an armchair traveler for the most part; I do have a long wish list of geographical desires which I would like to experience some day but for the most part it remains just that – a list. I read constantly about places and times, near and far, and travel through the words and images of others. There have been a few realized exceptions, but most of my life has been spent quite close to home (which happens to be in one of the most beautiful places I know: Vermont, an oasis of lasting simplicity). The lasting appeal of Vermont has made it a popular destination for visitors from the northeastern megalopolis and parts further flung; the tourists come to enjoy the quaint villages, the bucolic farms, the burbling brooks and thickly forested mountainsides. It truly is “picture postcard perfect”; some decide to move here or build a second home and hold on to the vision of pastoral bliss they have experienced. We have a saying here, among the local transplants – “Welcome to Vermont! We dare you make a living.” And there is more than a kernel of truth in that expression. While the quality of life here is hard to beat, the struggle to survive and eke out a living is equally difficult to understand. And so we work – and work – and try to enjoy ourselves with the simpler pleasures at hand.

welcome to my village

While I have spent many years here, struggling with the demands of life at hand and dreaming of other realities, sunnier climes and greener pastures, I have begun to learn the depth of experience available right under my gaze and indeed, inside my gaze. Rather than waiting for “some day”, I seek to discover what is inside of “this day”. It’s a lowering, not of aspiration, but of focus, to the essence of the moment. The smallest details expand to fill the grandest canvas. When one’s awareness is permitted to fly free, to gather in all the bits of life floating by in the present, there is no pressing need to escape, to get away from it all, to pay someone else to amuse, serve, pamper, or divert. There is a world of experience already nearby, if you look for it. And then allow it to reveal all of its facets and nuances, never repeating and always wondrous.

I began to understand this in a very small way when I was quite young, maybe ten or so; I made a vow to myself (actually more a statement of realization) that ‘I’ would never be bored. That endless complaint of the disenchanted and restless adolescent and their older variants, so often heard and futilely addressed, “I’m bored…” would not be upon my lips. And it hasn’t, to this day. I still look forward to sailing the seven seas and traipsing through the halls of kings and priests, wondering at great feats of architecture and vast sweeps of scenic grandeur. To make the Grand Tour. To walk where legends and civilizations were born; to see the green flash of a tropical sunset, the fiery, steaming bowels of the earth convulsing, the technicolor rush of hundreds of rainforest birds aloft. But I am not bored with the offerings of my days and nights closer to home, as I eat, work, play, and sleep…

Riverine Dreams

The weight of a late summer afternoon, pressing down on my body as I lay in the grass next to a lazy river, hawks wheeling slowly overhead as the towering mountain across the valley lifts its spruces into the piercing blue sky. The smell of fresh concrete as I peel the cradling formwork away from our latest studio commission, all the careful preparation and the rush of mixing and pouring now seized in solid immutable weight. The dawning of understanding and the smile that lifts the corners of my mouth when standing before another’s work, soaking it in and turning it over in my mind, letting the representation become an inspiration in reverse. All these small details, charting a macroscopic journey through “now”. I am still learning the signs – I stumble, I wander, I digress, I lose the horizon. But there is always a new day and a new view to quicken my step and draw my eye.

I was raised with the belief that heaven (and its counterpart, hell) was a place that came after this life, some otherworldly reward for eschewing the dangers and disgraces of a temporal existence. The creation was fallen, the shallow attractions of this mortal plane were deceptive and destructive. If one kept their eyes above and beyond these temptations, there would be a slice of heavenly cake waiting on the other side – your just desserts. But I have come to the more gratifying realization that you can have your cake and eat it too. I find my slice of heaven right here, right now, wherever I am. Often rather close by, sometimes farther afield but always where you might expect it least – not in the obvious guidebook or entrancing glossy magazine, the latest hotspot revealed or the last great unspoiled discovery. It’s right in front of my nose and well within my grasp. I turn to a fellow New Englander, once again, who said, “Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.” (Henry David Thoreau) Watch your step and you will travel far.

Go here to see the full list of #letsblogoff participants; a panoply of polished perspectives!

Today’s #letsblogoff question is “Are today’s college graduates ready for the working world?” Several of us, bloggers from varied professions, are voluntarily tackling this topic and delivering our own blast of bombast directly into your earholes. Bear with us… a list of participants may be found here.

I count myself among those who have never had to face this dilemma. I met my fork in the road sooner and never needed to justify the expense incurred, the choices made, or my “trainability” for the realities of the workaday setting. In retrospect, I suppose I recognized that I wasn’t ready for much at all after an initial short foray into higher education. Instead, I went straight into the working class without the benefit, or rather, luxury of facing the transition from academia to assignment. There was no quandary regarding readiness or preparedness; it was a precluded action at the time. Or at least it seemed that way to me – we all make our decisions based on what we know and I did the best I could with what I had at hand. I went with the “default” setting.

To be honest, the percentage of our employable population possessing a college degree (a bachelor’s or higher) is in the minority, running around 29% of the workforce. And the percentage of positions requiring a degree is even smaller, at about 24%. So there’s a problem. To skew the odds even further, the job market is already awash with more unemployed degree holders than will graduate in a given year. So much for getting a leg up.

So, my tendency when faced with a question of this nature is to throw the baby out with the bathwater and posit that no one (nearly) is ready for the working world – degree’d or otherwise. It is often a rough transition from living on someone else’s nickel to earning one or two of your own. It is not made any easier by possessing a shred of sheepskin in your hand. The disparity is not incurred by the amount of knowledge lodged in one’s cranium, but by the inherent experiential gap of a novice and perhaps even exacerbated by the inadequacy of preparation.

There are many reasons that may hamper progress in landing or keeping a job – and we all fall victim to the truism that the current generation is facing the most dire straits of all. What sort of outlook is that? A mindset that sees every new batch of workers facing an increasingly mismatched and overpowering set of performance requirements is an endless downward bent. It’s the opposite of productivity. If the world is going to hell in a handbasket, it doesn’t help to make chit chat about the scenery as we plummet along. At the risk of falling off the wicker crazy train, I believe that it is never as simple as pointing a finger or reducing the equation to a simplistic statement. By definition, equations have multiple sides, all of which have a bearing on the outcome(s). We should also be cognizant of the limitations of our historical and cultural heritage: the constrictions of a standard arithmetic (used adjectivally) approach, as in “1 + 1 = 2”, and the preoccupation with dualism (black/white) and straight lines, severely limiting in vision.  Which brings me around to my circuitous point (ha! – I am attempting to walk the talk)…

Scientific and philosophical thought has moved in a different direction in the last couple of centuries; we are exploring fractals, chaos theory, quantum mechanics, and all sorts of out-of-the-box concepts. The dialectic analogy of a spiral is a fitting model for a change from straight-line Newtonian physics to the complexity which we are discovering all around. I don’t claim to know much about any of it, personally,  but I am endlessly fascinated with learning more about as much as possible and have a lot of catching up to do. Boredom is not in my vocabulary! But as human thought and experience move on to broader and more expansive/inclusive approaches, there is a significant, almost crippling lag in the everyday popular culture, including and maybe especially, in the workplace, where change is often perceived as the enemy. And this is where the topic at hand may be stood on its head or should I say, blown into tiny bits. I would like to suggest that the working world is not ready for much of anything, much less a college graduate (or dropout).

As our understanding of our planet and its systems expands into a more (w)holistic encompassing approach, the manner in which we deal with situations and relationships needs to adapt as well. The “working world” is but a single part of the whole, and an artificial construct at that. This is the basic difference between knowledge and wisdom – and a metaphor for the difference between a fresh-faced newly-educated hopeful hire and an experienced, grizzled veteran. The former has a head full of facts, the latter knows what to do with them. To translate this to the question at hand, to wit “readiness”, I believe we need to make (or continue to make) fundamental shifts in attitudes and perspective: to move toward a paradigm which embraces as much as possible, as soon as possible. The cause and effect curve of human actions in the natural world has been on a long tail of subtlety for most of our time on the planet; we are fast approaching the parabolic crescendo of drastic consequence. I am not painting a picture of doomsday and despair, because I believe in our awesome ability to adapt, change, and make real, progressive change. All of us together, as in Curtis Mayfield’s “People Get Ready”: for all the worlds within worlds, by starting with the world within each of us and spreading the ripples out into our workplaces, our dwelling places, our sacred places. Eventually we will find our place in the world as humans – this is the work set before all of us. Are you ready for this?

Oh those times...

Veronika Miller of Modenus is a Twitter friend (instigator) that has founded a series of “blog-offs”, in which several of us tackle a topic in our own inimitable manner and let the chips fall where they may. Crash. This is round two on the latest topic “Living Small”. Links to other posts are listed at the end of my humble contribution.

When I was an earnest young grasshopper, seeking knowledge at the universe’s knee, I wrote a column for a number of local weeklies entitled “Walking Softly”. This was in the late seventies – I was a late-blooming environmentalist and back-to-the-lander, enraptured by the discounted Sierra Club coffee table books from the Ballantine Press – lovely photographic journeys through our wild heritage interspersed with jeweled quotes from John Muir, David Brower, among others, and especially the Great Seer: Henry David Thoreau. I am still enraptured with H.D. Looking back at those days, I see the seeds of what I have become… pale shoots, striving for life-giving sustenance, stretching toward Something/Anything (oh yes, Todd Rundgren in Woodstock, NY), searching for the light. Those early roots are still there, bolstered by the accretions of time and experience, tempered and reinforced by exposure to “life” and its weathering forces. The essence of the plant remains true to its germination; the subsequent realization is a product of its environment and its innate strength of purpose.

The Book

I worked in a campaign for a candidate for US Congress from the state of Vermont in the late 1980’s; my back-to-the-land yearnings had led me here and I have never left this wonderful land of total acceptance and equally harsh realities. The hopeful’s name was Morris Earle and he was running on the Small is Beautiful ticket, derived from the writings of E. F. Schumacher. I still subscribe to that socio-political philosopher’s amazing pronouncements, on some deep gut level which occasionally rises to the fore and overwhelms my everyday preoccupations, even now. It just doesn’t go away. It is still relevant – perhaps even more so in these post-boom recidivist years.

What I am evolving toward (and yes, it is all about me, because I [the collective we] can only speak from what I personally know inside my own head) is a balance of views, perhaps heavily slanted in the “small” direction, and accepting the plentitude of humanity – a measure of encompassing grace – but landing unforgivingly inside the circle of our mother Gaia, the planet which gives all of us life and forgives so many grievances by her “most prescient” inhabitants. Basically: I can accept whatever you might choose to do, but don’t make a mess in your own bed.

in the sand, only...

I see it this way – and I am turning this homily on its head, which is my tendency if you know me: live LARGE and dwell SMALL Stretch yourself, go for the gusto, feel the beauty of all things bright and beautiful. Use only what you need, leave only footprints. Appreciate the fleeting, savor the gifts that drift your way. Quality over quantity. Remember to dance. Forget whoever may be watching. Let this be your guide: will you leave a flourish or a scar on the breast of mother Earth? This is not to say you cannot enjoy yourself while journeying through this expression of being – just have some respect. A lot of respect. Who do you think you are, anyway? You are a god, we are all gods – gods of small things and awesomely immense things – act like it.

Read more on the topic as my Twitter friends opine on the “Living Small” assignment:

Veronica Miller at Modenus, A Small Life is Good, but Slow Down to enjoy it!

Nick Lovelady at Cupboards Kitchen and Bath, Is Small Really Realistic?

Paul Anater at Kitchen and Residential Design, Is Living Smaller the new Living Large?

Rufus Dogg at Dogwalkblog, How Much Does It Cost You to Exist For One Hour? Size Matters

Saxon Henry at Chair Chick, Living Small (and Getting Shagged!)

Becky Shankle at EcoModernism,Is Living Smaller the New Living Large?

Sean Lintow Sr. at SLS Construction, Building Smaller- Is It the Next Big Thing?

With irreverent apologies to Joe Cocker – who lays that number down so smoothly (Ha! Joe and smooth in the same sentence)  that anyone would be dissuaded from total abandonment…

Base form ready to pour

When we create integral sinks in a single wet cast pour, that is, using a very flowable concrete which fills the form and self-levels, it is necessary to work with a form that is watertight and able to withstand the significant hydraulic pressure to which it is subjected. If you incur what is termed a “blowout” in the middle of a pour, it is difficult, if not impossible, to salvage the moment and all the effort of building that single-use mold is lost. Back to square one; not a pleasant situation and certainly not a profitable one to those in the biz. It has happened to everyone at some time. It’s a lesson which is learned rather quickly and stashed away in the “never gonna skip that step again” files…

Hat form in place atop base

When doing a three dimensional pour such as an integral sink bowl (or two!) built into a concrete countertop, a two part form is constructed. The lower form might be termed the base, the upper is often called a hat or cap form. Both are built carefully ahead of time, mated to each other and shaped/caulked/drilled so that they are completely ready to be pressed into service as the pour commences.  Nota bene: Wet concrete waits for no man – so there are no opportunities to insert a missing step while in the heat of the moment. The lower base form is filled with the fresh concrete to its upper edge, vibrated for consolidation and air removal, and the hat mold lifted into place and screwed down quickly. Then the sink cavity (all upside down and backwards remember!) is filled to its upper extremity, consolidated, and the pour is wrapped up. Performing this process with two discrete colors makes it even more challenging, as one need to be careful not to contact any errant surfaces which would muddy the transition. This creates a very unique look however, possible only with the dynamism of precast concrete. A current project (showcased here) was cast in a dark grass green pigment for the body of the concrete countertop and snow white rectangular sink bowls. Definitely NOT “off the shelf”.

Hat form's white concrete placed

The resulting bi-color casting

The evil time sucking SM bird

A couple of weeks ago on Twitter, where I spend an inordinate amount of time absorbing the wit and wisdom dispensed in 140 characters or less and trying valiantly to throw the odd riposte back into the milieu, Veronika Miller (known to the Twitterati as @Modenus) brought up the idea of a mini-blog-off (no, no, not a diminutive Russian). She had posted an entry on her own blog about quirky design moments and objects, provoking the question: what is successful design?

A few of us took the bait she proffered and verbally batted it around a little until the joint blogging idea was suggested. So here we are, drawn like flies to –(oh never mind…): please check out Paul Anater, Veronika Miller, and the DogWalkBlog and their respective perspectives.

Wise interweb pundits

Being a researcher and the cautious type – not to mention a “wordie” – I started with looking at where the actual word “design” comes from. When you check it out in the dictionary the definition is a bit of a let-down; it comes across as rather technical, as a construct or an assembly approach e.g. if you do this and this and this, you will have a “design” – as if it can be taught or practiced. Which is often as far as it progresses, or rather, as far as it allowed to progress – becoming a sort of manipulated topiary of function; it has a certain basic appeal but it lacks oomph . And this is where the divergence begins, where the good, the bad, and the fugly begin to shake out…

The operative word would be “successful”. I would suggest that, whereas it is good and even desirable to have a basic foundation:  the brick by brick approach of knowing fundamentals such as color theory, pleasing proportion, ergonomics, and the rest of the Design 101 syllabus – excellent design cannot be taught or learnt from an instructional video, lecture, or reference book. It is absorbed, it is earned, it is basically intangible. It requires experience, sensitivity, and willingness to think outside the box of required reading materials. Design that is derived from that limiting set of approved tools might provoke the observation “… and that’s all she rote”.  It comes up short and does not satisfy.

Island by Fu Tung Cheng

I am a concrete artisan. I work with an amazingly versatile material, unrestricted in dimensional expression, as well as nearly all other physical attributes. I am privileged to be able to express myself through this medium by integrating my clients with their environments, creating functional art with cast concrete usually in the form of custom countertops, sinks, and other architectural surfaces. I came to this craft from a carpentry background, bringing the requisite manual skills, a good work ethic, and a familiarity with kitchens and bathrooms. That was it. My adopted material of choice was foreign to me – at least the high performance, high capability variety with which I fulfill my commissions. I had to learn how to “be with it”. I taught myself the basics and grew into a comfort with this very complex material we know as “concrete”. I am also completely untrained in design and have had (am continuing) to develop a “feel” and a style of expression, a design sensibility which is manifest when experienced by the user  and/or an onlooker. I have found this process to be very rewarding and am beginning to have it validated by the feedback and comments coming from my clients and other people who have seen my work. And this brings me to my very simple but very encompassing postulate concerning successful design: I know it when I see it.  I will leave it to the other, more learned practitioners to tell me exactly why this or that pushes my buttons (I bow before your wisdom) – I am learning as fast as I can, dammit! – in the meantime, I will trust my gut and the seat of my pants. How proletariat.

Recently we completed an interesting project (aren’t they all?) for a returning client, which is always a nice experience. They have a beautiful contemporary home which is set in the corner of a pasture edging the woods, overlooking a sweeping view of the Green Mountains and the East Branch of the Deerfield River Valley lying between. On the second floor of the house is a light-filled library area at the top of a striking steel and cherry staircase, angling up from the ground floor. In the corner of that room they had planned a small wet bar for coffee in the morning or evening drinks on the balcony deck which fronted the dramatic mountain ridge to the west. It was a very tight alcove, difficult to access comfortably, but it was in the right place for their purpose and needed a customized approach to utilize it to best advantage. Enter artisan concrete!

Inspiration cue

They showed me a ceramic bowl which could provide a color cue to start the project. We were off to a good start already – such a pleasure to collaborate with clients who understood the process from the get-go. It was a warm buttery yellow which would work well with the natural maple flooring and casings in the space; it also picked hints from the artwork hanging nearby. These are the factors that we look for in our work as concrete craftspersons (all PC now): what belongs here? What is the appropriate response?

The alcove in the corner

I wrestled with the intended installation spot: trying to come up with something that would fit and look as if it belonged there, not shoehorned into a compromised accommodation… I decided we needed some strong curves to soften the hard corners of the niche and to help make access to the sink comfortable, which would necessarily be pushed to the back of the space. We had to work with the fact that there was a mini-fridge under the top, which would interfere with drainage routing, if the top was to be mounted at a reasonable user height. (This is a graphic example of the sort of situations that come into play routinely during our design stages)

The solution

I designed a sink with the drain at the extreme rear of the bowl, so as to miss the appliance beneath as the piping exited. The faucet was tucked in tight to the rim so  that a coffee maker could be accommodated in the right rear corner. A scooped arc across the front allowed proximity for the user, and a shelf down the adjoining wall eased the transition from the room into the alcove.  I decided to use a hand-pressed concrete placement technique to give some variety of  texture against a solid wall and a little organic variability to the surface. There is a reason for everything when designing concrete – when the possibilities are limitless, it is important to know where your focus lies and follow through on the promise. And this is what resulted!

Details matter

Another concrete story, fittingly placed in a library. Different story, different conclusion. Happy endings.

Concrete contraption

I have plans. They’re not grandiose or even far-reaching. Some might characterize them as pedestrian. But at least they’re mine. Dream a little dream, said Mama Cass.

Well, I’ve been spending a little (very slight exaggeration) time out in blog world, reading my webby friends and acquaintances periodic  feats of penmanship, and thinking to myself (which is where I do most of my thinking, come to think of it) – “I need to do something a little more useful and expansive with this blog of Concrete Detail” or something along those lines. I have had some helpful and encouraging discussions on the subject with a few confidantes and we (the royal we) are in the early stages of reformatting and reformulating this mouthpiece of  concrete communication. I would like it to be not only a means of presenting the craft of concrete countertops, but a look around at some of the other topics that inform our day-to-day operations and also some of the more esoteric influences that might underlie the mindset of this individual artisan. Warning: still waters may run deep. Or not.

I like writing. So maybe this is just an excuse, a convenience of permission. There is a horde of technical necessities to wade through (this, for a member of the IT-illiterati), much less the always looming content issue – what’s the drivel du jour? – but we’ll cross that boondoggle when we come to it. OK – so there’s that. Tally-ho!

Once we create templates for a project on-site, we bring them back to the studio and translate the measurements, layouts, and notes into a three dimensional form to receive the concrete. The resultant countertop castings will follow the form details exactly – it is a literal translation of positive and negative. The result is completely dependent on the care invested in the preparation. This is a lesson you learn early in your concrete countertop career. Take your time, do it right: you only get one chance. It’s  an iteration of the old-school computing truism – GIGO “Garbage In, Garbage Out”. This is where forethought and planning, not to mention manual dexterity, come into strong play. Will that sink form’s shape release cleanly? Will the faucet handle clear the backsplash when actuated? Are the users right-handed or left-handed?

We do most of our wetcasting on sheets of 3/4 inch melamine coated particle-board. Nesting the required sections on the backer, placing the sink and faucet holes where they need to be – we do everything upside-down and backwards. This is a mind-bending exercise sometimes; there are moments when it is best to step back and take a deep breath, because the effort to re-do a mix-up is considerable at this point. Record-keeping and communication come into play here too: assumptions are a killer. This is why we require that all sinks and hardware be in our physical possession at the time of forming. Manufacturer’s specifications are usually reliable, but cannot be counted at all times. Products are revised, OEM vendors change, industry standards evolve. In the end, everything matters. Don’t Think, Know!

Yesterday we hopped in the van and ran up I91 to Hanover, NH for a consultation and templating appointment with a new client, a doctor in this beautiful university town with a world-class medical facility. Meaning Dartmouth  and Dartmouth Hitchcock, specifically… Rolling hills along the Connecticut River, venerable brick edifices and striking modern architecture denote this regional center of commerce and higher learning.

The good doctor is redesigning and renovating an apartment above his practice; one of the initiatives is a relocated and higher-functioning kitchen. Still very compact, the layout includes a raised eating bar, a dishwasher, an undermount sink, undercounter refrigerator and freezer drawers, and a slide-in gas range. Initially it was thought to  include a cast concrete farm sink, but in the interest of budget and size constraints, it was decided to go with a stainless steel zero-radius sink. The color decided upon is our “Cayenne”, a very warm (naturally!) bricky red with specks of black sand. The other colors in the kitchen will be built around this lead; the site-built cabinetry will have a painted finish and the walls and floor will follow suit.

Once a few of these “detail” decisions are made, it’s time to start the actual creation of the concrete countertops for the project. The first concrete (sorry) step is to pull templates from the site, in order to reproduce in our formwork the exact dimensions and relationships  for a perfect fit at installation. All of our castings are 100% formed; there is no machining other than polishing of the surfaces. It is a creative, additive process – not one of removing stock from a given slab and merely locating holes and edges. This is the thrill of the craft – envisioning something from nothing, or rather, from everything. We play the Creator, re-enacting Genesis in our small way.

Our templates are created using the old-school method: thin 3 inch strips of lauan plywood (a grade known euphemistically as “door skins”) are hot-glued together atop the installed base cabinets and/or half walls, following the walls and overhangs so a s to cretae a physical pattern that can be transported and used as a reference back in the studio. All pertinent information is noted directly on the templates such as finished edges, backsplashes, sink base restrictions, cantilevers, and the project name and date. Then they are carefully removed and placed in the van for the trip back to the shop, where we begin the steps to transform the two dimensional record into three dimensional sculpted sections. Here’s where a critical bit of process creeps in: remember to flip the template when building the matching molds! We perform what is known as reverse wet-casting (typically) and whereas the templates are made face-up, on the cabinets, the concrete is cast upside-down and backwards ( a running joke) and if this protocol is missed, all is in vain. Keeps you on your (steel) toes…

Goodness, where does the time go?   *mumbling*  “I’m late, I’m late – for a very important date!” – The White Rabbit.  And so, I return to the blog with an overdue post on our latest work (there’s been a slew of it lately):

We have just completed a seven foot long double bowl vanity for a home’s master bath in Wilmington, Vermont. The owners wanted to evoke a slightly woodsy feel with the room, which is set in the lushly forested foothills of the Green Mountains near a small lake. The walls are painted a leafy green; the cabinetry is constructed of maple stained with an orange-y finish; the ceramic tile floor is white. We decided to run with a neutral palette on the countertop and sink bowls, to calm the wash area and allow it to stand as an element on its own – not competing with the other colors present in the setting.

The top itself is cast in our “Bone” palette choice, which is what we have dubbed our natural white portland mixed with native sand and gravel – this throws the color of the pure white cement into a gray/tan off-white tone. The sink bowls (round vessels recessed halfway into the top to keep the finish height workable) are cast in “Fog”, which is a silver-gray shade with a slight touch of blue in it. The sinks were cast in a two part fiberglass mold in order to yield a finely finished interior and exterior, as both are visible. The forest theme is implemented with relief impressions of maple and oak leaves cast into the top, replete with veins and small undulations. The leaf images were the result of hand brushed latex copies of real leaves that had been cast in plaster to create a negative, which was then reversed using the rubber copy. The rubber makes a clean reproduction in concrete and releases easily when the forms are stripped to reveal the hardened concrete surface.

A last detail (another facet of the nature theme)  is the heavily ground edge of the top, the backsplash, and the sink rims. This exposes the native aggregate inside the concrete matrix to lend contrast with the more uniform polished planes and adds specks of color and shape to the strong geometry of the assembled installation. Setting the faucets off to the right side of the bowls allows easier access by the users and a welcome assymetry to the composition. The entire project is sealed with our new sealing system by Innovative Concrete Technologies, of which we are quite proud. It is a lithium silicate based treatment, which actually densifies the concrete surface to a point where it is difficult for liquids and staining agents to even penetrate the concrete. It is water-based and actually gains in effectiveness over time! Not sure I can make the same claim of myself…