This week with sit down with Elise McMahon soon to be mother of two, builder of spaces, quiet observer of what we truly need.
There’s a certain kind of person who doesn’t wait for the right object to exist. They make it. Elise is one of those people. Through her work at Like Minded Objects, she builds with intention, not excess. Shelves shaped by the corners they need to fit into. Tables made quickly, out of necessity, out of instinct. Her hands move between motherhood and making without ceremony, guided by function, by timing, by life itself.
On the brink of welcoming her second child, Elise describes a kind of nesting that feels less like preparation and more like creation. While others reach for storage bins, she reaches for her drill. There is something deeply honest in that. A reminder that care can look like building something that will last. Her perspective is clear. We don’t need more things. We need better ones. Or fewer. Or ones we are willing to make ourselves. There’s a quiet conviction in her work. Resourcefulness as a form of beauty. Play as a form of resilience.
Welcome back to healing hands:
What’s the most important thing your hands have ever made?
I don’t know about important, because I feel like if these things disappeared I would enjoy the process of recreating them. But I love the pieces I’ve made for my homes. Shelves, desks, tables. Built quickly, out of dimensional lumber, shaped by the spaces they needed to live in. I’ve noticed a pattern. In the months before my due dates, I start building. Some people nest with plastic bins. I’m out there with a chop saw and a drill.
What’s one thing you’d let go of if you could?
My phone. But it’s also a tool for connection, so I can’t be too mad at it. I should probably just get a watch so I stop picking it up so much.
What’s your point?
We don’t need so much stuff. I know it’s easier said than done, but the world would be better if we moved away from being constant consumers. A good place to start is choosing materials and objects that either last or return to the earth without harm.
That said, I’m not perfect. There’s plastic in my trash can right now. A broken cheap chair sitting in my garage waiting to be fixed, or more likely, thrown away. It honestly causes me a little daily grief.
What’s one tool you can’t live without?
My Makita drill. Everyone should have one.
But I’m also reading Cobalt Red right now, which has made me think a lot about the materials inside the tools we rely on. It’s about cobalt mining in the Congo, which is tied to lithium-ion batteries in everything from phones to electric cars. It makes you want to be more intentional. Buy less. Use things longer.
What role does rest play in your creative process?
I need nine hours of sleep. My brain and body just don’t work without it.
How has your relationship to your hands changed over time?
I don’t really pamper them. I haven’t worn nail polish in over a decade. They’re strong. Muscular in a way I don’t always see in others. They definitely look different than they did when I was 18, before I started building furniture, carrying wood, working with metal. Maybe one day my son Auggie will write a song about them, like Grandma's Hands.
What do you hope your work passes on to others?
Resourcefulness and play. Those feel like the core of human joy and resilience, and they’re often the first things we lose to convenience.