Willamette Ironworks is still new.
It’s just me, in my garage here in Albany Oregon. Learning as I go, getting better with every piece, figuring out what works, what doesn’t, and what kind of shop I actually want this to be. I’m not an old master blacksmith, and I’m not a factory. I’m just someone who decided to start making things, take responsibility for them, and put them out into the world.
And starting here has made one thing very clear to me:
Local still matters.
Not as a slogan. Not as a trend. But as a real, practical way of doing business that actually feels human.
When you buy from a big company, the process is clean and efficient and invisible. You click a button, a thing shows up, and that’s it. You don’t know who made it, where it came from, what it’s made of, or what corners were cut along the way. And most of the time, you don’t need to.
But when you buy from a small shop, you’re buying from a person. Someone who’s still learning, still improving, still figuring things out. Someone who notices when something isn’t quite right and cares enough to fix it. Someone who actually wants feedback, because it makes the work better.
That connection changes how things are made.
When I make something, I know it’s going to a real person, someone who chose to support my small shop instead of defaulting to the biggest option. And that means a lot to me. It makes me more careful. It makes me more honest about what I’m putting my name on.
Buying local and buying small isn’t about being morally superior. It’s about keeping things visible.
It keeps the process visible.
It keeps the maker visible.
And it makes your impact visible.
If something is great, you know who to thank. If something isn’t, you know who to talk to. That kind of accountability is rarer these days.
Starting this shop has made me pay attention to how much of the world is built on distance, distance between the buyer and the maker, distance between the decision and the consequence, distance between the product and the person responsible for it.
Small business shrinks that distance and turns commerce back into a conversation. It supports people trying to build something real, improve their craft, and contribute something solid instead of disposable.
That’s what Willamette Ironworks is for me right now. Not a finished thing. Not a perfected thing. Just a small, honest thing, built piece by piece, learning as it goes, and connected to the people who choose to be part of it.
And that’s why I think local still matters.