Build a bench, you might end up with a library.

Words by Chih-Wei Hsu

In the basement of Immanuel Presbyterian Church in Koreatown, there once lived a room full of floor-to-ceiling objects that were long forgotten. Meandering through the piles and catching glimpses of relics, I wondered what had taken place in this space over the century-long duration of its life. Under usual circumstances, I would have plunged into the clutter, discovering layers and layers, getting lost in the archive. But this time I didn’t linger; my mind was fully occupied with the future. After months of searching for a suitable location and being discouraged by through-the-roof rent prices, this was the first place I could see it happening: a front desk, shelves full of tools, workbenches, and neighbors sharing ideas and connecting. A space full of tools and people sharing them. A tool library. 

The room in the basement of Immanuel Presbyterian Church that would later become Los Angeles Tool Library's first home.

Early conceptual floor plan of the Los Angeles Tool Library with a cozy community corner.

“Why a tool library?"  ◡◠◡◠◡  In 2024, I wanted to build a bench on the sidewalk of the office where I was working. Under the shade of a tree, the bench would be a temporary refuge for the tired, a hangout spot for local teenagers, a space shared by strangers and neighbors. Riding on my inflated sense of confidence from a bench-making class just a few weeks prior, I found a simple design and asked around to borrow some tools. I recruited a friend and used a circular saw and a drill to build the bench. The end product was functional — weight-bearing and sittable — but left a lot to be desired. I wished I had a miter saw. I wished someone had told me the difference between masonry and wood drill bits, and that wood glue is not optional. Most of all, I wished there were a place nearby where I could borrow these tools and ask for advice — a library, but for tools.

My friend Marco putting the last screws into the bench.

A neighbor catching a break on the shaded bench.

Eighteen months after building the bench, I found myself standing in that church basement in Koreatown, mentally projecting the tool library’s layout and manifesting patrons in the will-be library. I was inspired by the tool libraries in Baltimore, Denver, Compton, and Vancouver, I learned that the basement space had lived a few different lives. It was a former nursery and then a school, evident by the Dutch door and an old wooden whiteboard inscribed with a decade-old class schedule. Later, it became a storage space, mostly filled with things stuck in purgatory, their fate waffling between trash bins or another tucked-away room elsewhere. The signing of the lease between the tool library and the church finally decided their destiny. The church’s volunteers cleared out the room over the next month and we moved in November 2025.

Out with the things destined for trash bins, in with the donated tools, which were perhaps stuck in the same purgatory, much like their predecessors in this very room — valuable enough to evade the trash, but not useful enough to justify a permanent storage space. Some of the previous owners told me the backstories of the tools ◡◠◡◠◡ An aviation mechanic whose garage was left untouched after he passed. A ceramist who bought the tools to use once while repaving their backyard. A recently retired grip who has no use for them. An electrician who has upgraded to the new generation tools. ◡◠◡◠◡ Some of the donated tools were extensively used, while others were untouched. A few were still sealed in their original early 2000’s style packaging. What’s common, though, is their new destiny — shared tools for the community.

Without a tool library, the lending of tools rarely, hardly goes beyond the reach of one's personal network. Tool libraries (or libraries of things more generally) provide a formalized medium for sharing to occur at the neighborhood scale, or beyond. Perhaps for some, donating to a tool library is simply a feel-good way to declutter. But I got the sense that for most, they yearn to see their tools continue being useful in the hands of others.

The Los Angeles Tool Library officially launched in January 2026. Now four months into our operation, these pre-loved tools have lived on to help our members: build a ladder for senior cats, remodel a room as first-time homeowners, fix the differential on a classic car, move into a new apartment, move out of an old apartment, and much to my delight, build more public benches. I sometimes share these stories with the tools’ previous owners, which feels like telling parents about their children receiving the 'student of the month' award. The tool donors seem fulfilled to know that they’ve contributed to others making meaningful things in their lives.

Before & After images showing the space transformation of the tool library. 

To us, trust is not a prerequisite for sharing, but rather an outcome of it.

The donors trust us to steward the tools, perhaps because of our 501c3 status. But there is no easy way for us to assess the “trustworthiness” of a new member (which is everyone, as a new organization). We believe the members will return the tools. And by bringing them back, we build trust, not only between the tool library and the individual member, but also among the members themselves. We don’t keep people’s credit cards on file; we only ask for an ID and proof of address. There is really not much preventing someone from walking away with a thousand dollars’ worth of tools in one loan, never to be seen again. So far, every single loan has been returned, and the vast majority of them have been returned on time. Members clearly care for the tools and the other members that might also use the tools later. They informed us of what needs to be repaired or maintained so the tools can continue serving the next person. Some even brought back the tools in better shape than when they borrowed them.

There is a donated staple gun with the words “Handy Danny” on it. Who’s Danny? What was he building? What journey did this tool go through before ending up on the tool library shelf? What will it build next? An art frame, a reupholstered sofa, ◡◠◡◠◡ or perhaps just a little more trust between neighbors. ◡◠◡◠◡

Tool ID: LATL0058.

◡◠◡◠EVOLUTION◡◠◡◠
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