“During my career as an amateur woodworker, I have been faced with a continuing problem: the need to improvise. A screwdriver becomes a chisel, some bricks become a clamp, and it goes downhill from there. It was for this reason, that when faced with a kitchen remodeling project, I turned my garage into a makeshift spray booth.

It all started very nicely – the wood was bought, sawn, shaped, sanded and readied for finishing. Converting the garage into a spray booth was an excellent idea. It afforded plenty of space to lay out all the doors on the floor and spray them all in one motion. Besides, the bike and the garden tools could do with a fresh coat of overspray. The doors came out great and the garage door was shut on a very satisfying day’s work.

Later in the evening, unable to fend of the urge to admire my work, I strolled out to the garage. It was not a pretty sight. Spread over the faces of the door panels were large white blotches. I panicked. Humidity? Chemical reaction? Then it dawned on me that I had seen this effect before – on statues in the park. I looked up to see the culprit perching solemnly on a rafter – a fat robin. His blood shot eyes showed the effect of the lacquer fumes as he stared down at me, while I worked feverishly to repair his damage. A wet rag sorted out the mess, but no amount of cursing or throwing things would remove him from his perch. I left him there thinking that maybe he too wanted to admire my expertise. Back in the house, I thought maybe he saw a familiar tree limb in the face of one of the doors. Then I thought (sigh), he was probably just letting me know what he thought of my work. “

Written by Don Feldman in Fine Woodworking, July 1989.