HI, I’M KATELYN BOTTOMS
I discovered my love for building through writing — my usual gateway.
I was intrigued by some stop motion videos I’d seen on YouTube that looked deceptively easy to make. I wrote a script, sketched out the visuals, and started learning Final Cut. The next step was to build a shooting table and somehow suspend a heavy DSLR camera above it. If all this sounds intense just for a video-making whim, well, I’m not a woman of half measures.
I wandered into Home Depot during a slow time, hoping to find someone who could help me figure out the camera mount. There, I met a kilt-wearing blacksmith named Ray who was moonlighting as a hardware associate. I described the project. Ray stroked his goatee for a moment, and then silently went up and down the aisles, handing me materials. He gave me the address of his workshop and told me to come by the next day.
I forget what I needed to do the next day, but whatever it was, those plans were nixed and I headed to Ray’s shop, excited for the materials I’d bought to become usable table parts. I figured I’d pay him to make the camera mount. Instead, Ray handed me a leather apron, a shot of bourbon, and turned me loose to make it.
Having only a vague how to operate the drill press, I cautiously began. On the surface, this was a dumb move — a yellow label on the machine warned users of this exact scenario. But deep down, it was amazing. A life-changing moment in all the right, non-meme ways.
When I finished the table, I marveled at what knowledge plus effort had yielded. I was the proud owner of something not sold on Amazon. More importantly, I’d experienced the thrill of having a need and materializing the solution.
Besides the table, I also wanted to build another thing: My brain. When I first wandered into Home Depot that afternoon, Ray’s metal camera mount solution wouldn’t have crossed my mind. I hadn’t worked with metal before, so I didn’t know what was possible. I apprenticed with Ray for a few years, popping over to his shop to pitch in on projects and absorb all I could, before he closed the shop and moved out of state.
I started this project to be an evolution of that experience — a way to play in more ways with more materials, to keep myself exploring and creating, and also to make projects accessible. I’m forever grateful somebody once took a chance on me. Maybe with a narrative and a few graphics, someone else might feel inspired, too.
The name Moving Bullseye is a nod to the fact that landing on a solution — hitting the bullseye — is always temporary. As more knowledge becomes available, the solutions also change. In the face of this uncertainty, the best response is to keep making and keep moving.
To see the latest projects, follow @movingbullseye on Instagram.