Custom-Made for the Rest of Us

Starbucks likes to say that one of the keys to its success in the current rough economy is that a double-tall mocha whip represents an "affordable luxury"a small but real indulgence that goes a long way in our new age of austerity. And you get to order it any way you like: nonfat, whole, 2 percent, double shot, extra hot, whatever. With that notion in mind, we ask: Why not treat yourself to a hand-forged fire poker? Or a Murphy bed fitted to your own apartment? Or a personally tailored chair? Or a hand-built water garden? Or a specially designed TV room? Even in these hard times, there are small, satisfying, and surprisingly affordable ways to augment your home. Local artists, artisans, and businesses are eager to help, as we discover below.

Hot Stuff

Just under the west Seattle Bridge, in a big industrial building owned by Alaskan Copper Works, a dozen ironworkers are practicing their centuries-old craft. According to the denizens of Big Building (as it's known), theirs is the largest concentration of independent blacksmiths under one roof anywhere in the U.S.

Here you can get things like pot racks, gates, railings, end tables, framed mirrors, candleholders, sconces, and fire toolsall made without cut prefab parts crudely welded together. Instead, they're shaped by force and fire, with a red-hot forge, anvil, and massive, 100-year-old power hammers.

Matthew Tilton, 36, is one of the Big Building blacksmiths. During the late tech boom, Tilton says he'd often do work on $1,000-per-foot railings and elaborate garden gates. But that sort of high-end business has fallen off significantly. So what are some more modest ideas he can offer to your average Anhalt renter or Beacon Hill homeowner? (The stuff looks especially good in the kind of Craftsman architecture that abounds in Seattle.)

You might try something as simple and graceful as a coat hook ($12) or coat tree ($130; all prices depend on the specifics of the job) or as subtle as handmade cabinet pulls in the kitchen. The basic fire poker ($40) is actually something that Tilton trains his students on, since it embodies all the basic blacksmithing techniques: punching a hole for it to hang from; twisting the steel to form a handle; chisel-splitting the hook and tapering it at the end. Match it with a broom ($50), tongs ($120), a shovel ($50), and a screen ($400 and up). Or maybe just warm up the room with a drapery rod ($100) that was shaped by a real person, not cast in a mold.

A little handcrafted indulgence is like the mocha of home furnishings. And besides, as Tilton observes, "Site-specific design almost guarantees greater value on the house."

Mark D. Fefer

The artisans at Big Building will throw a big open-house party in July to raise their profile. Meantime, you can reach Big Building tenants Matthew Tilton at 206-898-4610 or Maria Cristalli at 206-789-4878, or stop by the building at 3600 E. Marginal Way S.

Sleep to Fit

The hush of the showroom, along with its meticulously crafted parlors (each boasting an upright wooden box as its centerpiece), brings to mind the display area of a funeral home. Call me morbid, but if Murphy beds (a.k.a. wall beds) had been popular in the days of Edgar Allen Poe, the victim of his "The Tell-Tale Heart" could have ended up in the bedroom wall.

In fact, Murphy beds originated not for the purpose of concealing crime but in order to impress a babe. When inventor William L. Murphy moved to the crowded city (San Francisco) at the dawn of the 20th century, he was limited to a cramped studio apartment. According to the Murphy Bed Company (www.murphybedcompany.com), the sleep impresario began fooling around with ideas for a folding bed after meeting his future wife, and because "he wanted to entertain." (Nudge-nudge, wink-wink.) From such humble desires came the product that would inspire countless silent-movie and cartoon gags where characters get snapped up in Murphy beds, unable to escape.

Fortunately, the wall beds of today are guaranteed not to gobble you up. But the resurgent Murphy bed is more about space than safety, according to Albert Logan at Wallbeds Northwest: "We have people from all walks of life looking into this option." In other words, wall beds have lost their efficiency-apartment stigma. If you've already spent a lot for a small Belltown studio, you're willing to spend a little more to hide your mattress and maximize your living space when company comes over. They're not so much custom-made as engineered to customize your living spacebe it bedroom, living room, or whatever. A typical unit runs from $1,500 to $3,500; at the high end, you can even get a flat-screen plasma TV as part of the sleeping/home-entertainment-unit package!

John Weinberg at Emerald City Design speaks to W.L. Murphy's enduring spirit of space-saving pragmatism: "Most of the people who are interested in wall beds fall into a couple categories. One [is] people who are downsizing [their houses]. Then there's a lot of people whose sons and daughters have gone off to college." So empty nesters, too, are reconfiguring their lives to fit the higher-density future of Seattle, where every extra square foot is precious and folding beds can be worth their price.