Before getting into today’s post, I wanted to share that I did an interview with Laura Fenton over at Living Small. She’s great. Give it a read.
SketchUp…
I can’t really draw.
Oh, I can muscle my way through a 2D layout and can even be precise about it if I pull out my ruler. But I can’t sketch… that ability to quickly cast ideas onto the page and to visualize a space or object in three dimensions.
This hasn’t stopped me from trying—I was pure pen and paper for earlier builds and I still keep a notebook in my bag for sketching out projects. But I’ve found it to be a limited and inefficient way for me to work through ideas. Especially because I usually lack a singular vision and need to take a more iterative approach of copy, paste, tweak, repeat.
Thus, the science fiction reality of tomorrow, today: Computers.
I found my way to SketchUp in 2017. It’s a 3D modeling program. One of the more basic ones. There’s certainly other software that’s just as good or better and worth talking about (and I’d probably do well to learn of them) but I can only speak to SketchUp… though for good reason…it’s approachable, familiar to folks you might collaborate with, and free.1
Now, obviously mocking up a project before doing it for real is not a novel idea—it’s a time-tested technique used by the pros. In his books on furniture making Christopher Schwartz advocates for bending wire models to get a good sense of the rake and splay angles of a chair’s legs. Jay builds miniatures for all his projects from wood bits and hot glue. Interior designers try out paint on the walls and lay fabric on the floor. Testing is crucial. Just yesterday I went through the motions with some wood finishes.
Where I think my use of SketchUp deviates is how detailed I get and how experimental my approach is.
There’s not enough paper, nor wood scraps or hot glue, for my process. The truth is, I don’t really know the best style or layout for a cabin2. I have to see it. Sit with it. And maybe stack it alongside others to spin off variations in a few directions and explore all the angles.
I also need to understand exactly how it all fits together. I don’t just mock up a project according to its basic dimensions. I build it from the ground up with all the bits and pieces I’d use in actual construction. Pulling those layers apart and visualizing how they interact allows me to make adjustments that optimize the design, and affords me the opportunity to identify pinch points in construction before they occur in real life.
I’ve had many an a ha! moment realizing I need to change the order of operation, or buy some hardware or a tool, or shrink a wall by some tiny amount, so as to avoid a headache down the line.
The upside to this trial and error process that’s (hopefully) hammering out all the impurities, is the hours I’m amassing on the digi-jobsite.
I’m building an intimate knowledge of how all the components get assembled and more often than not, when I construct a thing for realsies, it feels exponentially easier than it should, because I’ve rehearsed it so many times in cyberspace. It’s a well run and fun project. The type that friends enjoy lending a hand on.
Going a step further to mock up finished elements does much to compensate for my lack of design know-how. I more or less recognize what I like when I see it, but conjuring a clear vision from a vacuum is seemingly impossible. Where a more talented designer may feel certain that a rug will look good in a room, or rely on a mood board of swatches for guidance, I will fully Photoshop that rug to get a read on it. I need to really see it.
SketchUp helps in this regard. It’s got a library of textures, colors, and objects. If you need deeper resolution you can import additional files, but there’s also a skill to making scenes look realistic. I’ve occasionally sent my models to folks on Fiverr or Upwork for more refined renderings before pulling the trigger on some big decisions.
Our first cabin saw all of these efforts. I positioned SketchUp’s “camera” seated in the bed, or standing in the kitchen, trying to mimic what Molly and I would experience from different vantages. I plugged in the cabin’s location to watch the sunlight move through the room. Materials were rendered. The exterior Photoshopped in. I created a trove of experimental design and furnishing options from our cabin’s SketchUp model before ever breaking ground.
I get that it’s no small amount of work modeling every scrap of wood from the ground up, tweaking most of them in version 6.0, and toying with furniture and shadows. For those with more talent or experience it may not be necessary. But I personally find it’s worth the effort.
The ability to experiment with version after version from the comfort of my sofa is a hack that makes me a more capable designer and builder than I have any business being. And I’ve found that building up a confidence about how a project will come together can really make the difference on whether or not it ever gets off the ground.
All that tinkering on the digi-cabin is a momentum that may eventually grow so powerful, the cabin’s construction almost feels like a forgone formality.
Give it a shot. Follow a tutorial. Or drop me an email… I sell plans (which include SketchUp models) but I’ll totally send you a model of something to take apart and play with.
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SketchUp Pro costs money, though not much. There’s an always free web app, but SketchUp also used to offer a free tier of downloadable software, which I preferred. You can still track it down if you Google around. Look for SketchUp Make 2017.
Nor do I know what a build in the trees will look like. I measure a grove, lay it out in SketchUp, then get to playing with options.
Good summary. Remodeling a kitchen and going to attempt to build in the program