Showing posts with label Monroe Sherman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Monroe Sherman. Show all posts

Six Pixels of Separation

Every year I receive at least a half dozen books as Christmas gifts from members of my family.

Of this year's titles one that really caught my eye was "
Six Pixels of Separation" by Mitch Joel.



The premise of Joel's book is that in today's digital world everyone is connected to everyone else through websites, blogs, social networks etc. This means that there are now a variety of digital channels and free publishing tools available online to promote yourself, your personal brand and your small business.

The jacket summary of this book really caught my attention because in many ways I have already been living out this reality with my own business.

I first began using the Internet back in the mid 1990s when access involved AOL accounts and dial-up connections that got terminated with every incoming telephone call. In digital terms those days were the proverbial Stone Age.

By 1998 we were working with Kristina Nagy and Denis Dube of K10 Studios to create our first website at www.wiggersfurniture.com

At that stage I had very low expectations of what a website could offer as a sales and marketing tool. At best I figured it would be a helpful to demonstrate credibility, besides showing product images along with specifications and background information on the company. "Real" sales, I believed, could only happen through "mortar and brick" showrooms that were dedicated to selling my work to discriminating consumers via interior designers and architects.

By late 2000 (exactly 10 years ago today) we were busier than we'd ever been. Most of our sales were high quality custom furniture pieces sold through to-the-trade showrooms located in major urban centers across the United States. For all intents and purposes the Internet had zero bearing on any sales we made that year. But even then the paradigm was rapidly changing.

For one thing the recent collapse of the dot com bubble was already starting to manifest as a decline in new orders. This situation would be exacerbated later in the following year with the fallout from the 9/11 attacks. Cheap imports from offshore were also starting to flood the market, and although we didn't compete directly with this product it was having a domino effect by pushing the lower end guys into the middle of the market which, in turn, compelled the middle end guys to target the higher end.

By 2006 the overall sales to my traditional customer base had diminished radically. In a discussion with Monroe Sherman of Carriage House, one of my oldest clients, I was told that I needed to shift my thinking if I wanted to stay in business. At the time we were making private label OEM pieces for Monroe's Sherman-Designs collection, and he pointed out that because of globalization I was now competing with cheaper vendors from South America and South-East Asia. In effect, I was told that if I wanted to compete I'd have to effectively slash prices even if it meant lowering my quality standards by moving work offshore. This was not something I was prepared to do.

It was at this point Monroe suggested I read the book "The World is Flat" by Thomas Friedman.

The premise of Friedman's book is that because of globalization and computerization supply chains have gotten shorter, with the result being that the world is now smaller and more competitive than ever before.

My reply was "Yes, I've read the book. Have you?"

Perplexed, Monroe said "Of course I've read it. Why do you ask?"

I pointed out that he was only interpreting Friedman's book from his own vantage point, namely that in this new era of globalization and digital communication that he alone would be the beneficiary of using digital tools such as the Internet to find newer and better opportunities.

To illustrate my point I told him "As flat as you see the world from your side of the planet, it's just as flat going the other way. Yes, you'll be able to find cheaper sources of supply thanks to this new paradigm, but the rest of the world won't be sitting still as you do so. Your customers will be looking for better opportunities and better quality too, as will your current and previous vendors. The world is changing and getting smaller for everyone, not just you."

In hindsight this contention appears to be playing itself out. Where in 2000 I could attribute 0% of my sales directly to activity on the Internet, in 2010 more than 50% of my business has been generated as a result of this digital realm. Thanks to Google, websites and blogs I am finding ever more people using the Internet to find exactly what they want in the way of high quality custom furniture.

As far as I'm concerned Mitch Joel is spot on with what he contends in "Six Pixels of Separation", and one of my New Year's resolutions will be to implement suggestions from his book to make 2011 even better.
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Custom Wall Unit to the Grand Cayman Islands

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The Journey Continues (Pt. 12) - Ramping Up Again

Having experienced the severity of the economic recession of the early 1990s I had surprisingly mixed feelings about the surge of new work coming in from places like Brueton. Although one part of me was thankful to be busy once more, there was another part of me that dreaded the thought of ramping back up to warp speed again.

When we were at our busiest in the 1980s I was constantly working long hours, including evenings and weekends. This made it difficult to do simple things, such as spend time with my young family. Although it was tough to decelerate the business as orders dried up, it was also a welcome relief in some ways because I was simply burned out.

During these down times I began to sketch out all kinds of ideas of furniture concepts I wanted to have made. This became a surprisingly enjoyable exercise and it had an almost meditative quality for me. Deep down I loved the creativity of it all - conceiving ideas; sketching them out; then figuring out how to go about making them into reality. The latter part was easy because the science of making was something I had down to a fine art already - after years of taking other people's ideas and transforming them into finished product.

The first prototype I ended up taking from sketchbook to bench was a Biedermeier style desk - very similar to the Rainforest Desk shown below.
An old bundle of Myrtle Burl veneer that had been stored away for years was used to make the inset of the top, while offcuts of Macassar Ebony were utilized to make the apron, legs and plinths. Not long after the desk was completed I was fortunate to have it sold - to an author who was looking for an inspiration place where he could write his books.

The success and sale of this first piece - especially one that was wholly of my own creation - actually inspired me to consider scaling my shop down even smaller, to focus exclusively on making and selling my own designs. This fantasy, however, was short-lived because the economic reality of the situation had its own facts and figures.

For one thing I was now the father of 3 young children, and as much as it might be righteous and honourable to pursue the path of the starving artist - also starving one's family in the process was not a viable option.

In addition, despite how cool I thought my furniture pieces were, the marketplace as a whole was not sharing my enthusiasm. Aside from the initial desk sale, three consecutive years of displaying at IIDEX did virtually nothing to stimulate any interest in my designs although, to be fair, the recession going on at the time wasn't conducive for sales either.

Around 1992 or 1993 there was also a Call for Entry for furniture designs to be submitted for an upcoming book entitled "Conservation by Design". This was a collaborative effort by W.A.R.P. (Woodworkers' Alliance for Rainforest Protection) and the furniture design program at RISD (Rhode Island School of Design) to select tangible examples of sustainable furniture designs. I was thrilled beyond belief at this opportunity to be published, and felt certain that my Rainforest Desk would be one of the pieces selected.

Sadly, of the 76 furniture makers accepted for publication, I wasn't one of them.

About a year later there was another Call for Entry - and another rejection - once again from RISD. This time it was my "Tower of Power" that bit the proverbial dust.


It was shortly after we started ramping up with Brueton that I had a lengthy discussion with J. Wade Beam on what my business focus should be. Wade advised me to abandon my efforts to develop my own pieces and focus, instead, on being an OEM supplier to companies like Brueton. At the time this seemed like sage advice, for a couple of reasons.

First, given the rejections I was getting it seemed obvious that my furniture pieces weren't resonating with the more knowledgeable design academics of the world. Second, thanks to the recession there was now a seismic shift under way in the way in which companies had their pieces made. Making things in-house was now falling out of vogue as more and more designers began to outsource rather than invest in their own production. (Of course, taken to its extreme this ultimately led to the almost complete offshoring of production that we now see today).

As the 1990s wore on our base of OEM clients expanded to include not only Brueton but also Vladimir Kagan, Rick Shaver, Monroe Sherman (Sherman Designs), and Lee Weitzman. To keep up with the growing influx of work we were soon compelled to expand the size of our staff.

Although I was never keen on having large numbers of people working for me, in many ways I had little choice if I was going to keep my customers happy.

But it was only after I hired a "Jesus woodworker" that I decided to go CNC.
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The Journey Continues (Pt. 9) - I'm Just the Installer

By 1992 things were brutally slow at work, and I was scrambling to find anything to keep going.


Although few projects were happening at the time it turns out there was a wealthy real estate magnate building a large custom home in Toronto, and the project required a number of custom cabinets and built ins. But the glitch was that all this work had already been bid on, and won, by a kitchen cabinet company that had sold itself to the client as a high end custom shop. (This is indicative of all recessions, as kitchen companies, millwork and store fixture shops all start encroaching into other markets in an effort to find work).


While this kitchen company was able to handle most of the straight forward cabinetry, they quickly found themselves in over their heads on some of the more complex pieces. At this point I was contacted by the interior designer to help find a discrete resolution to the problem.


I was offered the opportunity to make some of the more complicated cabinetry, under the condition that it was sold under the kitchen company's name. They were to get full credit for the work. My name was not to appear on any of the paperwork, and if I was ever asked by the client who I was my response was to be: "I'm just the installer".


Although the scenario didn't thrill me I was also well aware that ego doesn't pay the bills. Therefore, I agreed to the terms.


The pieces were made, delivered and installed roughly 2 days before the 1992
IIDEX show. Over several days the home owner saw me on multiple occasions working around his home, but at no point did he and I ever speak.


With the job now complete and the IIDEX show under way, I was soon busy with other things. For starters I had Monroe Sherman (owner of the Carriage House showroom in Miami) in town for the show. In addition, my old friend Bill Stolz from the Canadian Consulate in Atlanta was also attending IIDEX.


The three of us got together for dinner one night, before heading to a nightclub for drinks. We ended up at the hottest club in town, located in an upscale neighbourhood called Yorkville. Although the place was about 3/4 full, it was filling fast by the time we arrived.


No sooner were we enjoying our first beverage than Bill recognizes a couple people in the room. He motions them to come over, and soon we're standing as a group of 5 guys talking about whatever it is that guys talk about. About 10 minutes later more people enter the club, and amongst them is the (then) famous actor Peter Weller - of Robocop fame - with one of his friends. It turns out that Weller's friend happens to know one of Bill's friends, so before long there's 7 of us standing in a group conversation - and I'm standing beside Weller, even though neither Weller nor I know each other due to our four degrees of separation.


By this point the whole club is abuzz with the fact that Peter Weller is in the room. Bear in mind that the movie "RoboCop", and it's sequel "RoboCop 2", had both been huge hits in recent years. And since Weller was the star of both films, he was a widely recognized personality at the time.


But what happened next was hilarious.



With the club jammed full and our group of seven now the focus of attention, who else should walk in but the real estate magnate in whose home I had been installing furniture earlier in the week. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the startled look on his face as he looked over and saw my familiar face mingling with the rich and famous.


At first I could tell that he couldn't place where he knew me from. A short while later I saw the bulb of recognition go off over his head, as he clued in to who I was. Of course, now he was puzzled as to what his cabinet installer was doing hanging out with Peter Weller.


As we left the club I smiled and nodded to the client as we headed out the door.



There was no need to say anything.


After all, I was just the installer.
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The Journey Continues (Pt.8) - Rapid Deceleration

The end of our working relationship with Richard Mark in 1989 impacted our shop immediately, although for a while the decline in work volume was partly offset by new orders coming in from Dakota Jackson and Ron Seff in New York, and a showroom called Carriage House in Miami.

We also had a scattering of custom work from interior designers in the Toronto area, which I tried to augument through participation in the IIDEX shows of 1989, 1990 and 1991. But for a variety of reasons it didn't really matter what I tried to do to bring in more work - our order book kept shrinking during this time.

There were a variety of reasons for this - many of which were out of my hands. First, there was the Savings & Loans crisis in the United States which was having a crippling effect on financial markets. There was also the Gulf War from 1990-1991 which caused oil prices to spike up, and overall consumer spending to pull back. On a technical level the economy was in a severe recession between mid 1990 to mid 1991, and in this environment discretionary spending of any kind - including custom furniture - was a low priority.

Compounding this were some additional shocks. By 1991 both Karl Springer and Ron Seff had passed away. In the case of Springer his iconic furniture business collapsed almost immediately. When Karl's former partner Ron Seff passed away, Ron's company was transferred to new ownership - and our business relationship effectively ended there.

Dakota Jackson seemed to have a considerable backlog to carry him through the slow times, but as his order book shrank he decided to keep more of his work in-house, rather than subcontract overflow to our shop as he had been doing. In addition, at this stage of his career Dakota had grown weary of doing one-off custom work. It was too restrictive for growth, and given his aspiration to become a large scale 20th Century industrialist, Dakota's design focus shifted to things like the Vik-ter Chair and Library seating which could be made and sold in multiples.

I was now scrambling to find other sources of work, and the Toronto IIDEX show became the focus of my efforts. In order to participate in shows such as IIDEX, it was necessary to show examples of what you were capable of doing. Given the OEM (private label) relationship we had with collections such as Dakota Jackson, it was not possible for us to show examples of Dakota's furniture under our own banner at a design show. It would be perceived as a knock-off.

On multiple levels this was OK with me, especially because for the first time this gave me the opportunity to design and build something entirely of my own creation.

My first piece was a custom desk inspired by a Biedermeier table I had seen some years earlier. The initial prototype was crafted out of a combination of Lacewood and Myrtle Burl, and there was an inlaid band set into the perimeter of the top. There were also three pencil drawers with concealed mitred corners discretely inset into the side of the floating top.

This desk was unveiled at the 1990 IIDEX show, and although the response from the design community was lukewarm (probably due to the slow economic climate) I did manage to find a buyer who absolutely fell in love with the piece. An author was looking for an inspirational desk from which he could write books, and in his mind what I had made was absolutely perfect.

I still remember clearly the immense satisfaction I felt at knowing how something I had first envisioned, then made, could resonate so positively with another human being.

A second incarnation of this desk (shown below) followed a year or so later, made of Macassar Ebony and Carpathian Elm Burl. Dubbed the Rainforest Desk, it ended up being auctioned off as part of a fund raising effort to support a group called W.A.R.P. (Woodworkers' Alliance for Rainforest Protection). That story will be told in a later post.


Also for the 1990 IIDEX show I designed and built an entertainment center called the "Tower of Power". This piece consisted of a tall cabinet made of flat cut cherry, and the cabinet interior was configured to house audio components behind a sandblasted glass door. For ventilation of components there was an Electrosonic whisper fan built in to the back of the cabinet. The television pedestal and door medallion were made of Curly English Sycamore inlaid into herringbone patterns. The plinth base and rotating platform for television were finished in high gloss ebonized anigre.

Although this cabinet did win a special award thanks to a revolutionary waterbased finish we developed, once again the response from the design community was tepid at best.

By 1992 things as a business were nearing rock bottom. Although the recession was technically over we were slower than we had ever been. Where we once employed a staff of 20, we were now hanging on with barely 5.


I was also now the father to three small children, and I was beginning to seriously question my abilities as a provider.


At this stage I was willing to take on just about anything.
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