“Finish That Isn’t Sticky.” — Ridgeline Tunery
I’m Mariah from Ridgeline Tunery, a small turning studio making bowls, pens, and
keepsake boxes. Everything we sell is touched by hand. When a bowl comes back because
the surface stayed tacky or the price at a show feels made up on the spot, it hurts twice—
once in pride, once in profit.
Where we were spinning our wheels
Finish timing by feel. I love intuition, but show prep meant guessing what would cure in time. I’ve rushed more than one oil and regretted it.
Booth blind spots. I couldn’t remember what sold fastest at last year’s fall fair. I packed the wrong mix and came home with the same giant platters.
On‑the‑fly pricing. Species, diameter, and profile all matter—but I’d round down to “be nice” in the moment.
How Woodshop Master steadied the lathe
Cure timers tied to finish type. The job can’t move to pack until the cure window closes. I get reminders, not surprises.
Show‑specific inventory views. I tag pieces to a booth and watch sell‑through on my phone. Next day’s restock is a plan, not a guess.
Template pricing that respects the work. Species, diameter, wall thickness, and finish generate a price band. I can still discount, but I start from value—not guilt.
Maintenance logs by board‑feet. Blades and gouges get sharpened or replaced by usage, not vibes. Cleaner cuts mean less sanding and better finish adhesion.
Results I can feel and see
Zero sticky‑finish returns in the last three shows.
Sell‑through up 23% with a smarter mix (more 9–11″ bowls, fewer oversize display pieces).
Admin time during show week down 30%; I turn more and type less.
Average selling price up 8% with the template doing the math I avoided.
Results I can feel and see
I started Arc & Spindle to obsess over curves, not spreadsheets. Now I spend my mornings
shaping arms and my afternoons meeting clients—confident that the build card the team is
following is the same one the client approved.
What stays the same
I still turn by feel. But I run the business by facts.
Woodshop Master didn’t change my craft—it made room for it. I’m home earlier on Sundays, hands smelling like walnut, not solvent.