I didn’t grow up dreaming of
being a cabinetmaker.
I grew up around tools, scraps, and people who built things because that’s just what they did. My grandfather was a cabinetmaker — tough, old‑school, the kind of man who didn’t hand out praise or guidance. My dad didn’t learn the trade from him, but he carved out his own path with grit and charm, becoming the youngest watchmaker Eaton’s Winnipeg ever trained.
Not perfect. Not polished. Not romantic. Real.
David Flather
(Knotty Dave)
In 2006, I walked into a shop as an apprentice
and something clicked.
By 2011, I earned my Red Seal Certification. But the real transformation happened the moment I stepped into that shop — when the sawdust got into my head and never left.
In 2012, I opened Knotty Dave’s Fine Woodworking. I built kitchens, bathrooms, offices, furniture, mantles, jewellery stores — anything that needed to exist, I built it. I learned heritage restoration by living inside a heritage home. I learned storytelling by paying attention to the work. I learned that craft isn’t just skill —
it’s identity.
A football mom did.
Back when I was president of Leo and Brett’s football club, I was juggling practices, parents, schedules, and the usual chaos. Meanwhile, woodworking was chewing at me from the inside. I needed a name for the business, but everything sounded too serious, too cheesy, or like a guy selling cutting boards out of a van.
One day, a mom looked at me and said, “There. That’s your name. Knotty Dave.”
The mom chat lit up. The name stuck.
They branded me before I even had a logo.
I didn’t name myself Knotty Dave.
David Flather
Today, Knotty Dave’s is more than a shop.
It’s a brand built on honesty, heritage, and the belief that every cut has a story.
I’m restoring my own 100‑year‑old home.
I’m building a hearth room that feels like a dream in a prairie winter.
I’m raising a son who’s learning the craft one stubborn lesson at a time.
I’m building a content studio that shows the real work —
the good, the bad, the sawdust.
I don’t do this alone.
There’s my designer — the one who dreams up things I couldn’t fathom until I get my hands on them.
There’s my painter — the magician who brings the final finish, the polish, the reveal.
And there’s Leo — my son, my chaos, my pride. The apprentice becoming the future.
-
“Independent. Established. Chosen — not owned.”
“Meredith Heron — Vision at Full Volume”
Before I ever knew her name, I’d come home from long retail shifts and flip on HGTV. Just background noise that turned into inspiration. There were a handful of people who made the trades feel like a world worth stepping into: Mike Holmes, Bryan Baeumler, Sarah Richardson… and the redhead who explained design with confidence and clarity. I didn’t know her name then, just the energy. Years later, I got an email from a Toronto designer named Meredith Heron about a table issue in Winnipeg. I didn’t connect the dots. Why would I? I wasn’t thinking about TV, I was thinking about fixing a table. Then I pulled up to the client’s home, a multi‑million‑dollar work of art, and realized this wasn’t just another job. I rebuilt the starburst top, walked into Western Paint hoping they could help with a finish worthy of the piece, and Jon delivered a flawless result. The client was thrilled. Meredith was thrilled. And that’s where the partnership began. It wasn’t until much later, when we finally met in person, that the déjà vu hit me. The energy was the same. The redhead from HGTV, the one who explained the why and the how was standing right in front of me. And now we work together because our standards match, our crafts align, and the work is better when we do.
“Western Paint — A Century of Colour & Craft”
They’re a 110‑year‑old Winnipeg institution, a family‑owned legacy business with roots deeper than most buildings I restore. When I walked in with that starburst top, hoping for a miracle, Jon didn’t flinch. He owned it. Delivered it. And set the bar for every finish since. Their work is the handshake between craftsmanship and the real world.
“Leo — The Apprentice Becoming the Future”
My son. My chaos. My pride. He’s not a partner yet, he’s earning his way there one stubborn lesson at a time. You’ll see him in the videos, trying to be like his old man while becoming his own craftsman.
Craft matters.
Heritage matters.
I’m not here to modernize my house into something it never was.
I’m here to give it back what time stole — warmth, strength, dignity, a future.
I’m here to build things that last, tell stories that matter, and leave a legacy my son can stand on.
This is who I am.
This is the work.
This is the world I’m building.