Robert Cariddi on a stairwell at the McLellan-Sweat House in Portland, Maine (Photo by Colin Malakie)

Not only is Robert Cariddi a master carpenter and restorer, he once caught a woman falling down a 40-foot stairwell while on a job site in Peak's Island, Maine. The woman, whose house he was constructing, climbed onto the scaffolding, lost her balance, and plunged downward—into Cariddi's arms.

These days you might find Cariddi, 48, at his shop in Buxton, Maine, fashioning his own nails on a burning hot anvil, poring over a 100-year-old cabinetry-making guide, or learning about the intricacies of traditional New England glassmaking. Cariddi is also a writer of short stories, an accomplished guitarist, and an astronomer. In 1997 he even constructed an observatory in the house he designed and built for himself.

For almost 30 years—the past 15 with his son, Sebastian—Cariddi has been restoring some of Maine's oldest buildings, including the 1833 Blaine House in Augusta, which serves as the governor's mansion. He has also worked outside the state, for example on the 1924 Allen Stevenson School on Manhattan's Upper East Side. Currently he is helping to restore the McLellan-Sweat House, an impressive three-story neoclassical structure that's part of the Portland Museum of Art.

"Even the nails in this building are amazing," Cariddi says of the house, built in 1801. "It's a $6 million restoration project, and the place is nearly untouched—everything is carved and molded and falling apart. We've got to reinforce the safety codes and the floor load, but also recreate ornate plaster medallions that decorate the elaborate woodworking in the parlor."

Eighty percent of the work Cariddi does is conservation, but he is also an experienced builder, having learned what there is to know about how houses were erected in, for example, the early 19th century. Even his spare time is devoted to construction. Cariddi will often hike into the woods, cut down a tree and transport it back home, dry it out for three or four years, and build a piece of furniture for his house. From one tree he once built two large tables, an armoire, and a set of 16 chairs, among other things.

"I love the materials," Cariddi said. "Just the feel of the wood and what you can do with it. A lot of the parts in these old buildings can't be made with power tools. You have to understand the wood."

Though Cariddi teaches courses—at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York, among other places—he has no formal education. All that he has learned about his craft has come from books or trial and error. The Internet has provided him with even more ideas. He sees buildings as works of sculpture, a point of view, he says, that's lacking in a good deal of contemporary architecture.

"Like in the old days, there are good and there are bad buildings today," he says. "But today's carpenters and woodworkers don't have the same skills as they did in 1801. Only a handful of us can do that sort of work anymore. The things that make buildings interesting have been eliminated. All these clean, slick lines don't do it for me."

Elizabeth Brennan is a freelance writer living in Washington, D.C.

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