The Story of Ivy Vines

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My very first woodworking project was a lost and found box for my high school that no one else was stepping up to build.  I wondered how hard it could possible be? Answer: hard.  But I loved it.  I progressed to building a wardrobe for my sister, a bar for my dad and my first commission; an entertainment center for my English teacher.  And all this before I turned twenty.  

After that I lived in very small apartments in very big cities and didn't have the space to build anything bigger than jewelry boxes so my passion morphed into creating theater sets for the various schools in which I taught.  And before you ask, no I wasn't a woodshop teacher.  I was a math teacher, but I think the two trades dovetail well (pun 100% intended). 

 During the pandemic I put my skills to use in a borrowed basement building a few dozen tiny purple pantries  to help address the hunger problem in my neighborhood in Brooklyn and I felt more satisfied than I had in a while. The more I built, the more people wanted.  Neighbors in abundance filled them every day and neighbors in need emptied them every day.     

 Now I've got my own basement in New Jersey and a steady stream of ideas and projects.  I started furnishing my own house.  Soon friends started asking me to build things for them and Ivy Vines was born.  Named for the ivy growing in and around the garage where I work. I started making party props for a friend's event planning business and then decided to make my own props and rent them out, and also take on whatever project someone can dream up.     
This craft is everything my creativity addiction could hope for. It's art mixed with math mixed with badassery with a sprinkle of dismantling misogyny mixed in.