Tamara Maynes - The Maker: Crafting a Unique Space

To the maker, a new project is incredibly alluring. So alluring that we forget the rollercoaster ride that is the creative process and, overcome by desire, leap in wholeheartedly. Head down, surrounded by mess, we work and work and work. As we reach the halfway point of the project, frustration sets in; the concept and our abilities become shrouded in self-doubt, and work is often accompanied by outrageous obscenities. Then, somehow, its the home stretch and, as if by magic, the fog clears and we enter a state of bliss, until we stand, proud as Punch, holding in all its glory the very thing that showed us both heaven and hell.

Originally seduced by the idea of creating my magnum opus after a lifetime of making, I quickly realized that this project was going to require a whole new level of commitment. When I first started work on The Maker, my trusty new assistant Kate by my side, I had no idea quite what I was in for. The creative process was the same as for any project, but this book took every inch of my tenacity, self-confidence, and even temper before it showered me with a feeling of satisfaction more than equal to its demands. (An unexpected bonus is that I now have an extra-extended vocabulary of obscenities!)

Those who follow my work might have expected my first book to be one of cover-to-cover modern craft projects for interiors, but I really wanted to set the stage and allow the reader and/or aspiring maker to think for themself. You see, to be a genuine makerto earn the badgemeans to make from a very honest place, using skills that have been nurtured and honed to bring something into existence that holds your unique fingerprintyour makers mark. If The Maker instills that value in the reader, and that sense of responsibility and camaraderie in the aspiring maker, then I am a happy woman.

I also wanted to take my big, big love of interiors one step further with this book and point out something that, I believe, can be missed as we collect our treasures and decorate our homes with them: the fact that we can only take both of these so far. Making for your space takes it to a level that is much deeper, much more unique, and where, in my opinion, we can really connect.

Happy making,

My work space is an ever-changing treasure trove of inspiration, raw materials, and my own work and that of other makerssuch as this wood chair crafted by Melbourne maker Bern Chandley.

TO JOHN DENVER, WITH LOVE
chapter one

Who the hell is John Denver, I hear you ask, and why does he have a chapter dedicated to him? Memories of my very early beginnings as a makera time I feel a great connection to and fondness forwill always be accompanied in my head by the sweet folk and country acoustics of this fair-haired American lad. I also borrowed the title of this chapter from the name of the very first collection I launched as a modern craft designer: a re-working of the infamous macram owl back in 2008. It was both an homage to my beginnings and, unknowingly, a door to my future.

My parents were young when they had me; teenagers, in fact. It was 1971 and by all accounts I was pretty much part of the gang. My memories are of beaches, surfboards, the scorching-hot vinyl seats of our Valiant, an abundance of long sun-bleached hair and gold-tanned skin, and music, music, music. Our house was most unusual and stood out from those that surrounded it because of its uncanny similarity to an igloo. Featured in The Australian Womens Weekly in 1952, while it was being built, La Ronde was affectionately referred to in the neighborhood as the roundhouse. In 1976 we swapped the roundhouse for a farmhouse five hours from the coast. With no beach in sight, my parents focused on farming by day and making by night.

The resurgence in craft and making during the 70s not only suited my parents new lifestyle, but also fostered my beginnings as a maker. While my fathers craft of choice was leatherwork, my mother excelled in patchwork and needlepoint and went on frequent adventures, mastering and eventually selling and teaching an abundance of crafts. There was always something being made in our home: more often than not a tray of enameled jewelry would need to come out of the oven before dinner could go in, or a half-stitched quilt had to be removed from the kitchen table before we could eat.

Influenced by my parents, I experimented with different crafts, challenging my ability with the assistance of a seemingly natural affinity. It is the memories of my mothers store, Country Road Craft Supplies (named after a song by her musical love of the time: you guessed itJohn Denver), that holds my personal connection to macram and that very first collection. The afternoons I spent at the shop after school were heavenly and (if I wasnt at the convenience store next door, having my appetite spoiled by the beehived shopkeeper) I was more than content to marvel at the multitude of colored wooden beads, metal rings, and huge skeins of macram yarns on display.

As a teenager I was incredibly interested in expressing my creativity through clothing. Despite living on a farm on the outskirts of a country town that had absolutely zero interest in fashion, I managed to do this by using my passion and skill for sewing to make or rework everything I wore. By now it was the 1980s and I was conjuring a weird fusion of Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink and Madonna in Desperately Seeking Susan. This meant searching through the pattern books at the local fabric store in search of something to alter, or using my country girl charm to worm my way into the backrooms and unexplored treasures of the two local, second-hand clothing shops. At the very least I would make my own buttons from oven-bake clay or change the hem of a dress, so, in some way, shape, or form, there was a new outfit, most often outside the box, made every week. Certain people in my life fostered this expression, not least my mother, whom I could always count on to put some of the more narrow-minded country folk in their place on my behalf.

While wearing my latest creations to round up sheep in the dusty paddocks, I dreamed with fervor of moving to the city and becoming the junior fashion editor at Dolly magazine. But leaving home at seventeen and arriving in Sydney shortly afterwards, I quickly realized there were at least a thousand girls with the same idea and, although I pursued my hope of working in fashion magazines for a number of years, even briefly in London, I never made it beyond internships and test shoots. I had a ball and delved passionately and successfully into many aspects of the fashion worldpredominantly design, production, and brand creationbut gaining full access to any of the publications was one place my country girl charm couldnt get me.

Id never given much thought to working with interiors. Although Id always been very aware of how I wanted my space to look and extremely involved in making it unique, it wasnt until I started to feel disillusioned with the fashion industry that my blinders were removed. Being introduced to