Canton artist works wonders with wood despite hand pain

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Bill Moore holds out his hands.

At times, they can be the enemy. He has a condition — peripheral neuropathy — that causes pain and numbness. He has to be careful when he washes in hands in hot water because it can burn his skin before he feels the heat.

Yet, with those same hands, Moore creates beautiful wooden furniture. His pieces are prominently displayed at the Ann Art Gallery in Canton, the space that he shares with his wife, watercolorist Nancy Currie Moore; his daughter, Ann Moore Bailey; and son-in-law Kevin Bailey, who are also artists.

“When I work all day, I know my hands are going to hurt, but I can’t say I’m not going to do anything” he said. The pain is far from his mind, however, when he goes into his workshop.

There, he turns pieces of wood he’s collected from sawmills, downed trees and wood retailers into furniture, crosses and electronics holders. Someone recently gave him the wood from an old barn, which now sits outside, its future use yet to be determined.

Moore's work will be displayed and available to buy during the 27th annual American Craft Atlanta Show, which runs Friday-Sunday at the Cobb Galleria Centre.

At 84, Moore is among the oldest ever to apply and be selected for the juried indoor craft show, which will feature more than 225 of the nation's top contemporary crafts artists. His larger pieces, such as tables, desks and benches, generally range from $350 to $5,000. Cutting boards, crosses and stands for tablets and mobile phones cost less.

“When I sit down in front of those pieces, it really seems to alleviate the condition in my hands,” said Moore, who retired from International Harvester’s computer department. He earned degrees in mathematics and finance from Northwestern University.

He’s been carving and creating since he took a 7th grade industrial arts class. After marriage, he made baby furniture for his growing family, then continued to make furniture in his spare time.

Moore and his wife live in a white cottage next to the house where his daughter and her family live; the gallery is housed in the lower level of his daughter’s home.

For Christmas, his family gave him a golf cart to help him made the trek from his home to his workshop. It’s actually a short walk down an incline, but, with his condition, it can be painful to make since the nerve damage is also in his feet. “Sometimes, my brain is not sure where my feet are,” he said.

Moore said the last time he saw his doctor, he told him that the bad news was that his condition was not going to get better; the good news was that it wouldn’t get worse.

During a chat at the gallery, Moore held up a section from a box elder tree, its red stains running like streaks of blood through the grain.

“I take a piece of wood like this and say, ‘What kind of beauty did the Lord hide in there that I can bring out?’” he said.

While some might hate the sanding process, Moore loves it. “Sanding brings out the beauty of the grain, the colors. When I first get the wood, it can be fuzzy. … By the time I finish, it turns out to be a beautiful thing.”

Moore said he loves the smooth feel of the wood when it’s finished. The natural imperfections only make it more suitable as an artist’s canvas.

He slowly walked around around his workshop, pointing out equipment and pieces of wood. Several pieces of maple — called ambrosia maple, because of the stain made by a fungus — were propped up against the wall.

He said he’s not sure what he will do with them — perhaps a coffee table or a side table, maybe a desk or bench.

“There’s always something there, and to that I say, ‘Thank you, Lord’.”