Michael Penney, 61; found beauty in natures flaws

Michael Penney walking his dog, Hobbes, in Holliston. (frank o'brien/globe staff/file 2000)

Imperfections in wood, such as burls that grow tumor-like on the trunk of a tree, were as important to Michael Penney as the flat surfaces he polished to a smooth finish when he crafted a piece of furniture, a vase, or a child's toy.

With his woodcraft, he celebrated the beauty of blemishes and often left visible the evidence of his own work.

"For my dad, it was important for the process to be obvious in the finished piece," said his son, Devon of Belmont, Calif. "With a lot of his things, you'd see the pencil marks showing the boundaries of the cuts; he didn't bother to erase them. When there were imperfections in the wood, he'd exploit them, rather than hide them. It was as if he'd said, 'This is an imperfection and I'll make you see how I fixed it.' "

Mr. Penney, who spent several years with the state Coastal Zone Management office in Boston and also worked in the computer field, took his life Dec. 17 at his home in Hopedale. He was 61 and had struggled with depression for much of his adult life.

With one foot planted firmly in the artistic side of life and the other in the scientific, Mr. Penny was at home with improvisational creativity and with the precision of mathematical analysis.

Sometimes the two mixed, such as when he built homemade X-ray machines while in middle school and high school.

Other times, he kept his two passions going simultaneously. That was the case in the 1970s when he conducted wetlands research for the Virginia Institute of Marine Science while helping to run a business that produced edge-free furniture, in which craftsmen use wood that retains the shape of the tree, rather than boards milled into straight rectangular shapes.

"My dad was really multifaceted," his son said. "He was the sort of person who, when you met him, was quiet and wouldn't be showy with any of his skills or knowledge. But given the opportunity, he would debate things or become engrossed in conversations."

When Mr. Penney visited his son in college, he would strike up conversations with Devon's friends on any number of topics.

"And he would always have something interesting to say," his son said. "The breadth of his knowledge was unparalleled by anyone I've met."

Mr. Penny's affinities for wood-crafting and science were evident while he was growing up in Medford. "He was always interested in science fairs and had an abundant curiosity for anything scientific," his son said.

Though Mr. Penney learned about woodworking from his father, he sometimes chafed at the approach. "His father was a detailed, finish woodworker," Devon said. "My dad was more interested in the process and less in the very fine finished quality."

Instead, the experience helped form Mr. Penney's deep appreciation for the kinds of wood and finished furniture that others might see as flawed.

He graduated in 1970 from the University of Chicago with a bachelor's in geophysics, and then did research work at the Virginia Institute of Marine Science. Several years later, he went to the University of Rhode Island, where he studied environmental economics and graduated in 1980 with a master's degree.

During part of the 1980s, he worked with the state Coastal Zone Management office in Boston on policies such as those that promoted public walkways along the harbor at places like Rowes Wharf.

And then Mr. Penney became fascinated by personal computers and moved into that field.

"When I was growing up, we always had Mac Plus computers lying around," his son said. "He got me into computers and had a really big influence in my life."

In the mid-1990s, Mr. Penney's struggle with depression took a bad turn. Interviewed by the Globe in 2000 for an article on manic depression treatments, Mr. Penney said he had struggled with depression since college.

But in 1996, Mr. Penney's illness led him to become enraged one day at work, then dissolve into sobbing that wouldn't stop. Unable to endure the pressure and intensity of his chosen fields of work, he found employment in a video store, but was frustrated that he couldn't do more.

Nevertheless, Mr. Penney did what he could. He worked to help others by becoming involved in advocacy for the mentally ill and, when mental health allowed, by delving anew into artistic endeavors.

"But beyond the intellectual, creative, and artistic skills, he was a very compassionate person," his son said. "The way he was able to help people, especially considering his mental state, was impressive."

In addition to his son, Mr. Penney leaves a sister, Carol Finn of Amesbury, and his former wife, Joan Levinsohn of Holliston. A memorial service will be held at 2 p.m. today at the Holliston Historical Society.