Yachtbuilding

Before I start telling stories of the past, I think I need to explain and describe my present. If this becomes a long series of whine festivals and navel gazing, there is no point to publishing; there is already plenty of that to be found.

I work for a company that builds megayachts. I won’t say where or who, for reasons that will become apparent. To describe it as neutrally as possible, these are 120’ - 200’ boats - or ships if you prefer - that are built as waterborne occasional homes for those who have adopted - or inherited - the yachting lifestyle. They are built with varying levels of luxury, but be assured that the cost of upkeep alone requires such a significant investment that only the very wealthiest of the wealthy in this world can afford to own one.
The design and construction of these ships is a major industrial undertaking. Even the line built ones - those with a minimum of custom outfitting - take 2-3 years to build. The highest end custom boats can take as much as 5 years or more from concept to delivery. It takes a vast amount of knowledge and a highly trained and educated cross disciplinary team of engineers and designers to develop the designs; it takes a highly trained and coordinated industrial workforce from many disciplines to make them a reality.
My particular role for most of the last three years has been as a cabinetmaker and joiner: that is, I am one of about 30 or so others who create the finished furniture and trim for the interior and exterior of the yacht. The work I have been a part of has won industry awards for design and execution. I say all this not to brag, but to underscore the irony in my situation.

Here’s the thing:

In a time when just having a job to go to is getting to be considered good fortune, in a job that many in my field would kill to have, in a field that has been especially hard hit by the current economic downturn: if I could afford to, I would quit tomorrow. While the work itself can be, at its best, challenging and rewarding, everything else about this place is diametrically opposed to most of the ideals that I have developed and held dear over my years of work.
While any of the particulars of this would make complete posts in themselves, I will try to explain this with a couple of examples:

I have had, from childhood, had a deep appreciation and respect for nature; although I have lost touch with the habits and opportunities of enjoying that experience, I still retain the feeling. Although, by its very nature, woodworking involves the destruction of trees, it is possible to treat the material with respect and to be conservative and creative and minimally wasteful, to give the tree a new life in what you create.

The level of production required to build the interior of a yacht, however, prevents any such practices. The amount of lumber we throw out as waste or reject for its inconsistency and ‘flaws’ could keep an army of hobbyists happy. To add insult to injury, we are not allowed as employees to salvage any of this ourselves, lest we start ‘creating’ waste specifically for our own benefit.

The treatment of the employees is another issue. In my other attempts to not be self employed, I have worked in a variety of small to medium size woodworking businesses. While I have experienced a broad range of business models and management (and mismanagement) styles, there has generally been an appreciation and respect for the skill and productivity of the workers, if not necessarily a level of compensaton to match. Here, while lip service is occasionally given to the level of craft necessary to create these designs, the apparent perception of us by management falls somewhere between irresponsible children and potential criminals.

The level of consumption that these boats represent by their very existence gives me pangs of conscience. I admit to a strong strain of class prejudice, based on my sense of justice; but even when I try to be objective about it, there is still something offensive about this level of luxury for the few when there are so many with little or nothing and many who are losing what they do have. I don't feel guilty for having a job; but I can't help feeling I am incurring some sort of karmic debt by contributing, even in my small way, to the lifestyles of those who have so much.

I have to believe that somewhere there is a place where the relationship between the client, the employer, and the worker, skilled or unskilled, is one of mutual respect for the various qualities that each bring to the table. I have even experienced that in my previous career; I just know we don’t have it here, or at least that it is certainly not the dominant culture. There are people I work with that I have a positive and constructive professional relationship with; maybe even a friend or two, although it is difficult to tell; that is what I use to help me get through the day.

Introduction

Carved Vessel, 40'l x 22"w x 9"h; 2001

It occurs to me that it would help me to get this project going if I actually managed to try to nail down why I feel compelled, however reluctantly, to embark upon it. I guess this tension exemplifies my relationship with writing over my whole life, from about fifth grade on. I feel a need to share what I consider the best of what I perceive myself to be; to express thoughts about the world that perhaps others could learn from.
As I write that last sentence, though, the audacity of it, the arrogance that perhaps I know more than you, dear reader, and would deign to share it with you for your edification, offends me. Before you think that this desire to share comes from a wisdom of years or a life lived in the service of others, I should make clear that it is exactly the way I have felt about my thoughts, inspirations, and opinions from the time I was an early adolescent.
There have been times when I was not so humble and self conscious about it, either. At those times, it was more laziness and lack of self discipline that saved my eagerly waiting public from benefiting from the wisdom of a seventeen or twenty or twenty four year old youth that sincerely thought that the world would be a far better place if people just did things the way he thought they should be done.

So why now? How is it that I have overcome the humility I have struggled to cultivate in the face of overwhelming talents and gifts that cried out to be shared with the world? Well, for one thing, I no longer need to struggle to retain that humility. At fourty seven years old, the principles that I so carefully gathered and crafted in my youth and tried to live my life by have proved to be incompatible with the world as it is in the early twenty first century. Or perhaps the principles are still good, but were incompetently applied; in either case, the only one I have left that I am still able to put into practice is my responsibility to take care of my family. I am doing that now, in some ways better than ever before, but the hole that I dug for us was so deep that I will feel it a major accomplishment in my life if I leave my heirs on level ground - and a glorious victory if it is ground that I can say belongs to my family and I.
I guess what I am saying is that maybe I have gained the right to sing the blues, so to speak; and not possessing any musical ability whatsoever, this is the medium that comes most naturally to me at the moment.

What do I have to offer you, dear reader, beyond this self indulgent wallowing in regret? Well, in the course of getting to where I am, I think I managed to have some interesting little adventures, and have met some interesting people. I will tell some stories, express some opinions, share some knowledge that I have gained, and you are welcome to respond with some of your own.

Dorset