My perfect imperfect table

I wanted to add a table to my studio for months. But it couldn't be just anything. I was waiting for the right thing to come along. I had both a practical and romanticized notion in my head. Then one day, it practically landed in my lap.

I wanted a table that was sturdy and fairly large. That was the practical side.

But I also wanted a table with a sort of beat-up, artistic character of its own. I had this storybook idea that I would just come across a perfect table. At a garage sale. Or maybe it would be a used table from an old school. Something with a history, with character. It would almost find me. Definitely not something I'd buy out of a catalog or furniture store.

Well, it showed up. We were at a friend's party several months back, and my husband spotted an old, homemade table out in the backyard. He thought it looked just like what I wanted. We discovered it belonged to one of the roomates. We asked him about his cool table, and the first thing he said was, "You can have it."

He was moving, or debating about it, and wasn't using the table anymore anyway. And it would definitely be too heavy to move.

He said he had used it to work on motorcycles, and before that his friend used it as a workbench to make custom-made motorcycle helmets with painted designs. And before that it had belonged to his friend's mom who was an artist.

It came pre-splattered with paint from its helmut-design days. It was basic and heavy and worn-in. Just perfect.

Its former owner even delivered it to me in his pickup truck and helped us get the heavy table down, and then up, some stairs, and finally into the house. We repaid his kindness with a nice bottle of wine, and enjoyed a visit.

Aside from the occasional splinter from the rough surface, and the fact that it smelled like motorcycle grease for a while, it's been just right. I have a place to work on collages, spread out sketches, materials, and even a small stereo for music.