About the Craftsman

There’s a version of success that looks great on paper. I’ve lived it. I've built several businesses still run them, and I'm proud of that. But none of it gives me what I get when I'm in the shop, immersed in a project.

There's something about solving the problems that come up one after another in a build that locks your mind into the present. You stop thinking about everything else. It's just you and the wood and whatever needs to get done next. I didn't expect that when I started and it's become one of my favorite things.

I’m Joel. I build things out of wood, and I do it slowly, on purpose.

I grew up in Florida, but the mountains have always called to me. There’s something about the cool air rolling off the ridgeline, a fire going on the porch, and the particular silence of the North Georgia hills that resets something in me. The woodshop up here is where Ember Ridge Studio was born. Not out of a business plan, but out of a desire to build things I actually wanted to own.

It started with a cutting board. I love to cook, I love beautiful knives, and I wanted a surface worthy of both. Then came a magnetic knife block in solid walnut. Something sculptural enough to stop guest's mid-sentence. Then serving trays, charcuterie boards, bandsaw boxes. Everything started the same way: I wanted the highest quality version of a functional object that was also beautiful enough that someone walking into my kitchen would stop and ask, “Where did you get that?”

People started asking me to build for them. Then more people. And somewhere in there, this became something.

But here’s what it isn’t: a factory. I have no interest in cranking out volume. The moment this stops being fun, I’ll quit. Every piece I build gets my full attention. The wood selection, the joinery, the finish, the feel of it in your hand. I think about the decades, sometimes centuries that it took for that grain to develop. I think about what had to happen for that particular tree to become this particular board. That’s not just material. That’s a story. And I want the thing I hand you to carry that story forward.

My wife Stacy and I split our time between Florida and the mountains. Our bloodhound Libby usually has an opinion about whatever I’m working on. When I’m not in the shop, I’m on the water, on a trail, on a mat training jiu jitsu, or at the table with people I love — usually with something good to eat and something beautiful to serve it on.

That’s what this is. Good work, done right, for people who can tell the difference.