We just watched on a DVD documentary a film about Louis Khan, the famous American Architect, made by his son.
His work was stunning but it came at a cost, Louis had 3 families all of which he ignored pretty much whilst consumed by his work and his passion for art.
Why is it that so much passion and talent always always comes at a cost?
His work bared a beautiful signature, I'd love my furniture to be able to bear my signature, a resonance that is mine, changeable yet recognisable.
I shall spend more time feeling for the wood, carefully flowing with the hand tools and searching for it a little more. It cannot be too far away.
