The Origins of Triassic


It has been a couple of years since we wrote a blog post. Facebook, instagram, Twitter, email, voicemail and all the rest seem to have taken up a lot of time without maybe saying a lot. So here we are and we will start again with the story of Triassic since we have grown and changed a bit since the last post. 
Triassic was started in the back of a Toyota pickup. I was making small pieces of stone jewelry and wooden spoons for friends and family and then encouraged by Donna Sall to take a few things to the Moab Farmer’s Market.
Inspired by the natural forms and materials all around each things was hand made with a bow saw, hatchet, knife and files. 
We grew as the Farmers Market grew and a hatchet turned into a bandsaw and two hands turned into six. The wood that we cut dead on the mountain turned into dead apricot trees in town and into a full fledged tree service. 
Growing has been tough. When your passion is more for nature,people, and making things than making money you make a lot of mistakes with business, employees, friends, clients, tools. It has been hard to hold onto the ethics that drive this business. Everywhere is the pressure to cut corners, to skip, to pay less, to get a chemical to solve a problem. 
At one point we were really struggling. We were trying to make everything perfect, no flaws, because that is what we thought people wanted and because wood is full of flaws we were wasting a lot, not happy and not making money. Robert fulgum came out to the shop as he will, and started digging through the scrap pile pulling out all kinds of little pieces, for his sculptures, that were beautiful, and flawed. That was the moment I knew I was off track, everything he pulled out was beautiful (and I almost didn’t want to let them go) and we got back to the business of presenting quality, but not nessearitly flawless things, in a beautiful and sometimes useful way. 
It is a daily struggle to value things, trees, people, spoons, stones, that might be called flawed. But that is where the real beauty is. if you cut a slab of wood up so that it has no flaws then it becomes more like a commodity, a medium, a piece of plastic to be shaped than something innately beautiful as itself. 
If you have a story or a picture that expresses this, please share it with us. 

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