Space and the case for a few shelves
Leaving the confines of a two-dimensional life
Generally speaking, space is length by width by height. It's the volume we understand to be the universe. But daily, we mostly consider the area at our feet - length and width. The third dimension of height factors in far less. But there's a lot of freedom at our disposal if we only take advantage of all that space. ~JRC
As mobile creatures, we humans have roamed this planet far and wide. First on our own two feet, then on the backs of other animals, in boats over water, and eventually by wheel. Most recently, we’ve even done so perched atop wings and rockets. While technology has afforded us many ways to venture forth, most strikingly in the latter mentioned gift of flight, we primarily traverse our world attached firmly to the ground beneath. As such, we tend to measure existence most commonly in length (distance) and occasional length and width (area).
Case in point: work is so many miles from home (or none at all); a shop has limited floor space; the house attached to the shop has far less square footage than a family could use; and the backyard of said house has barely enough land for a storage bin, some wildflowers, and a small urban chicken coop. (In my case, anyway.)
But all of these measures ignore an oft-ignored truth: the unlimited volume that extends up and beyond the confines of our two-dimensional lives.
Granted, most of that space above is off-limits. But we can build up (or down), if finances and permitting allow, creating additional stories in our lives. Doing so can double, triple, or even exponentially increase the area. Our dwellings, by adding floors, can grow. But here again, look at what we do - we still measure everything as if it was nothing but floors.
Now, at this point, I could take this essay in any number of directions. Perhaps philosophize over architecture and how we use space. Or write a semi-poetic rant on our evolved desire for wide-open spaces. Or, quite possibly, I could write about how much space we waste as we urbanization this, our only planet. But I won't. Not today, anyway.
Instead, what I will write about are shelves.
Yes, shelves. I have a small shop, and the floor space is all claimed. But I have a poorly utilized eight feet of headroom in there, and I aim to take more advantage of it with new shelving.
I've discussed my small shop numerous times. The area is scant by any measure - eleven and a half feet wide by nineteen and a half feet long - only 224.25 square feet. (It’s so small a feel compelled to include that quarter square foot instead of rounding down.) A few years ago I added a bit more room by creating "the annex" that added sixty-nine square feet just outside the garage door.
Size notwithstanding, I squeeze a lot of maker-space goodness into this tiny chamber.
On many days, my shop feels ideal, like a cozy, well-lived-in den where I go to create and recharge. But occasionally, it feels like a cramped jail cell where the freedom to move, work, and live is restricted. But in reality my space is like any other, with inherent opportunities and limits. More than a floor, it is a space - one with volume. And the more I can capitalize on its full dimensions, the more my shop will feel like the cherished dwelling it is.
Shelves can make this happen.
Now, you might be wondering, 'what's the big deal? Put up some shelves already!' True, shelves are not a major project. One can readily buy kits or DIY these low-tech storage solutions. I'm certainly capable of installing/making either. But I tend to belabor such things, wanting the right solution done right the first time. So I often delay, waiting for the inspiration to create a workable fix. This last weekend, I finally did just that.
The result: two small shelves adjacent to my central workbench. That's it. They're nothing special, but they've opened up a lot of usable space, despite how small they are.
The build was quite simple. I attached four commercially available shelving brackets to the uprights on the storage racks to the left of my bench. To these, I attached two 5 1/4" x 24" planks cut from a sheet of surplus HDPE plastic. I used plastic because:
I had it.
Working with plastic makes less dust than cutting wood, and I didn't feel like making a mess that day.
I thought the red plastic would look cool.
I also used plastic over wood because I will likely drill some holes to store several tools I often reach for, like my favorite small hammer and a few screwdrivers, picks, and wrenches. The plastic will be easier on these items (less marring, perhaps), so I thought it made sense.
There is a minor drawback. The HDPE, while rigid, still sags with weight (a comparably thick sheet of plywood would sag far less). But there's an easy fix - I'll run a piece of angle steel or aluminum under the back edge to reinforce each shelf. But I'll wait to do this after I decide how and where to drill the holes for the aforementioned tools.
Limits notwithstanding, I populated the new shelves with several items formerly cluttering my workspace. Doing so liberated me from the confines of a two-dimensional life, if only in a small way. Yes, small shelves, with a big effect. It feels like there’s more room in my limited shop, almost like I’ve been lifted off the ground somehow.
And that's the idea of a few good shelves - with them, we live more fully in the volume of our world.
Until next time.
JRC
There was a sequence when the Starship Enterprise was battling Khan, and while devising strategy, Spock pointed out that Khan was a product of the 21st Century Eugenic Wars and thought in two dimensions.
As you so insightfully pointed out, thinking in three dimensions is also valuable in adding more space for “stuff”. So it definitely has its pros and Khans. 😊