Peaceful Patch
I like the word “patch”. It’s a nostalgic noun that evokes the scene of a neatly arranged vegetable garden (think: Beatrix Potter). It comes from the old French word “piece” which, apparently via the dialect variant “pieche”, had further evolved into a distinct English species able to coexist with the original (think: horses and zebras). According to the O.E.D., Brits like Beatrix will use the word “patch” to mean an area for which someone is responsible or in which they operate. I am happy to call the Red Top Workshop my patch.
Using the British definition, it’s likely that all of us can identify a “patch” that we tend, and this might be a useful way to reflect on our condition: What is your purpose while in the patch? How do you feel in the patch? What do you gain from your patch? Think about it.
In my patch I find tranquility. To be sure, challenges, frustrations and victories occur every day in my patch. These are all good experiences that, together, make up the creative process essential for our humanity (see also: win back art). I am at peace in my patch - working things out of wood and absorbing satisfaction from the act. Merely pausing to think about things in this way is fulfilling.
But patches are not just a dreamy sanctuary - things get accomplished in a patch. Food, furniture and [insert passion here] are produced in patches. In addition to a couple refurbishing Projects, in 2025 I produced new versions of the traditional hutch and storage cabinet; reproduced a classic Korean stand; and designed a set of cornices in the neo-bungalow style. The new term “neo-bungalow” was even coined in my patch. Not a bad year!
Just as the word “patch” has a traceable origin, surely one’s own patch does not spring from a vacuum. It comes from a prior concept, held by the tender, of that area for which they choose to take responsibility. I owe my father, Ed, a good deal of credit for the concept behind my Red Top Workshop patch. Upon retirement, Dad spent many hours in his basement woodworking shop, fulfilled by the act of making gifts and satisfying furniture requests from family. He accomplished a lot down there, and I own many big & small pieces produced from that patch.
Edward Goulet putting the finishing touches on a homemade cabinet he contributed to our kitchen renovation in 1995.
These works are more precious to me, today, having lost my father at age 96 a couple weeks ago. I now appreciate that he gave me much more than towel holders, benches and boxes. He helped to build my patch. Thanks Dad.
Peace.
Me and Dad in my patch (2016)
