Today, I felt more than ever before that my career path was predetermined. I have this constant urge to create things, to pour my thoughts and energy into tangible endeavors. In fact, plenty of the wonderful people I met during my college days also share this passion. They are makers and builders, professionals and entrepreneurs trying to make their mark in this world. Former instructors or colleagues that put all of their energy and effort into their respective fields. Great people along the way have contributed or influenced my creative life. But as I get older, I realized that it all started with a simple man, and his work. 

He had a shop right next to his house. And every day, he would spent hours in that space repairing things, mostly bicycles. Bicycles were his passion, and the way he made some extra cash after retirement. He had been a cyclist his whole life. The weekend rides Santiago - Valparaiso were common, and I even remember hearing stories of him going up the Andes on his bike. 

As a kid, I grew up watching him work with his hands. I used to sneak into his shop, and get scolded for playing with the tools or bicycle parts laying around the shop. He was also capable of intricate metal work, from small sculptures to metal fences, all of it while listening to old tunes in the radio. Tangos were his favorites for what I can remember.

Unfortunately, he passed away a few years ago, and I was unable to share with him my passion for making. As I start the design for a new piece of furniture, it’s hard not to look back and realize how much of an impact he had on me. I think he was an artist at heart. No formal training, but his artistry and talent left a mark on me. Probably that’s the main reason why I chose the path of architecture. It would allow me not only to design things, and know how to build, but to follow in his footsteps. And pay a small tribute to a man that taught me a lot without ever saying a word. An artist. A maker. My grandfather.