
6 minute read
The owner of a mission-driven woodworking studio
Livin’ on the Edge
The new owner of a Providence woodworking studio continues mission of creating opportunities for adults with disabilities
By Jackie Ignall
Where the woodworking magic happens
Aaron Guttin has always loved building things. He first got a taste for woodworking as a kid at overnight camp where he built a wooden toolbox, which his mother still has today. Ever since, he has been immersed in the craft, working professionally as a general contractor, designer, shipwright, luthier, cabinet maker, and furniture builder. In June, Guttin took over as owner and president of Edge and End, an artisan furniture company based in Providence, which also has a strong partnership with The Groden Network at The Cove Center, a nonprofit that provides job experience and skills for adults with special needs that happens to be right next door. “I was working for Edge and End and fell in love with the work and the population we serve,” says Guttin. “I read a statistic that said disabled adults had a 97 percent unemployment rate. I can’t think of a better way to spend a career than building meaningful products while helping to bring that statistic down.”
The idea for this training partnership was conceived of back in 2008, by previous Edge and End owner, David Ellison, who saw an opportunity with residents from The Cove Center, who would walk by the workspace and express an interest in what was happening inside. Guttin credits Ellison as being an amazing mentor and friend. “When the opportunity came to take over the business, I was blessed that things worked out the way they did,” says Guttin.
Located in a historic Dyerville Mill on the banks of Woonasquatucket River, the 6,000-square-foot workspace is outfitted with original beams, iron work, skylights, high ceilings and windows that let in lots of natural light. “I love history, and to work in a former textile mill that was part of the rich New England industrial landscape makes it all that much better,” Guttin shares. “In some ways, I feel like we carry on the legacy of various craftsmen over the last 180 years.”
Quality materials, such as solid woods in oak, walnut, ash, and pine, as well as wrought iron, steel, and cast iron are paramount in the company’s hand-crafted furniture and smallwares. All of the lumber is sustainably sourced and comes from three sawmills in Rhode Island and Massachusetts. “Our favorite is repurposing lumber from old Rhode Island factories and mills; the stories locked in that lumber keep my imagination going all day,” says Guttin.
His goal is to always employ people with disabilities and to teach trade skills. The company currently offers two different training programs; one is a six-week course for adults and the other is 12 weeks with students from The Met High School in Providence. “Making things is a very human thing – after all, cavemen made art on walls and built tools every day,” says Guttin. “I think helping each other is just as human. Combining the two brings me a huge amount of personal joy, but more importantly allows us to create products that really matter.”

Edge and End
610 Manton Avenue, Providence EdgeAndEnd.com Decor designed and crafted by Edge and End
Architectural Excavation
Growing archive of photos, oral histories, and documents tells the stories of Providence buildings past and present
By Abbie Lahmers

Growing up in North Smithfield, J. Hogue always thought he would leave Rhode Island one day. His perspective of Providence was that of an outsider, “a teenager who would go to Thayer Street every now and then,” he recounts with a laugh. Hogue did move out of state for a while, but when he returned in the late ‘90s, “it didn’t feel like the same place that I had left.”
Amid the city’s downtown revitalization and the real estate boom that would follow, Hogue found himself drawn to the industrial nature of neighborhoods like Olneyville, Valley, and pockets of Silver Spring, taking note of what was being lost in our built environment when outside developers swept in.
“We have this really deep industrial history everywhere, and with Eagle Square in 2002, that was the thing that made a lot of people wake up,” says Hogue, referring to the artists who were displaced when developers demolished most of the buildings housing the arts collective Fort Thunder to create a shopping center. “It was a rallying cry and a wake up call that these buildings we’re taking for granted may not be here for much longer. If we want them, we have to get involved, we have to take them.”
For some, this meant buying properties. For Hogue, it meant starting ArtInRuins.
A web designer by trade, Hogue began photographing and researching city architecture and compiling the histories of over 300 buildings on his website. He made contacts at the state Historical Preservation & Heritage Commission and Providence Preservation Society, and to fill in gaps, even purchased scans of maps for years that are harder to find via the Library of Congress archives.
When it comes to scope, “I wish I was more choosy,” Hogue jokes, indicating backlogs of photos he’s taken and sites he’s explored that haven’t yet made it up on the website, but ArtInRuins is expansive by design. “If there’s any sort of demolition, I try to capture that,” he says. “I’m more interested in change, in places that are shifting ownership, shifting use, or drastically shifting their appearance.” This can range from the sudden demolition of the Duck and Bunny house on Wickenden Street to the more under-the-radar, unfussy properties where there’s “not an obvious reason to appreciate it.”

Photo by Christopher Martin of Quahog.org

In the 20 years Hogue has been dutifully documenting, even old narratives continue to change as more is unearthed. With digital archives more readily available than they used to be, Hogue realized in 2020, “I had quite a bit of work ahead of me.” More documents surfaced, and “sometimes the story changes a little bit about how we understood what used to happen at a particular building.”
A big part of the equation is oral histories. “It feels like grandkids set their grandparents up with a computer and they start Googling where they used to work and they find my page,” says Hogue, who hears from a lot of former employees and people who knew these buildings in their prime. “People probably tell these stories to each other all the time, but I feel really lucky that I’m able to collect so many of them into a place where people can appreciate them. You get the sense that all of these places meant something to someone; no matter how ugly or how decayed it got, there was a point in time when it was in beautiful shape and it was brand new. People worked there and made a life there.”
Scrolling through pages of memorialized buildings, it’s clear ArtInRuins is an ever-growing time capsule, and Hogue hopes it will continue to evolve with community collaboration. “I’m always open to having conversations with folks who have a fire in their belly and need a place to put that energy.” ArtInRuins.com

Alicia Reynolds
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