About — Lazy Bear Woodworks

A child-sized wooden chair with a smiling bear-face back, on a river-rock hearth — The bear chair.

Why "Lazy Bear"?

Dormant, then all at once.

Two things gave it the name. The first is a bear chair. My grandfather was a woodworker and a weekend carpenter, and he built me one when I was little — the first piece of furniture I remember loving.

The second is honest self-description. The tools showed up during COVID. Then life did what life does, and the shop went quiet for months at a stretch — dormant, then a burst of frantic work, then dormant again. Hibernation, basically.

So the name made sense. Lazy Bear is the idea that something you love can go dormant and still come roaring back. Making since 2020, an idea since 2023, and a real company as of 2026 — awake, and staying that way.

What we hold to

Three things we won't cut.

By hand, start to finish

Milled, glued, shaped, and finished by the same few hands. Nothing gets sent out and stamped with our name. If it left this shop, it was made in this shop.

Built to be used

Food-safe finishes, joinery that holds, edges sanded soft. These are made for a kitchen and a kid's hands, not a display shelf. Use them hard — that's what they're for.

Honest about what it is

Real hardwood, named by species, no veneer pretending to be solid. And if we're not the right shop for what you need, we'll tell you that too.

Danny, founder of Lazy Bear Woodworks, in the Colorado pines — Danny. Conifer, CO.

The maker

Meet Danny.

It started with my grandfather's bear chair, and picked up again in 2020. COVID hit, I needed something to do with my hands, and I made a few things with the meager set of tools I had. Then a table saw. Then a used bandsaw. Then it snowballed.

What I love hasn't changed since: taking rough stock and turning it into something somebody actually uses — in their kitchen, in their downtime, to hold the things that matter to them. That doesn't get old.

The piece I'm proudest of is the one that looks the worst. The first cutting board I ever made is still in our kitchen and still in the rotation, and it's in rough shape. I keep it to remember how far the work has come — and because it's the whole idea in one object. Things don't have to be pretty to be useful.

Every board, sign, and toy that leaves here was made by the same person who'll answer your email. Order something custom and you're not filing a ticket into a queue — you're talking to the maker. Or somebody related to the maker.