Printing for Venezuela: how a group of makers turned their 3D printers into a relief effort

I want to talk about something that has nothing to do with filament sales or business numbers, and everything to do with why I got into 3D printing in the first place.

A few days ago, two earthquakes struck Venezuela within seconds of each other — a 7.2 followed by a 7.5, the strongest the country has seen in over a century. The numbers coming out of there are hard to even process. More than 1,450 people killed. Over 3,150 injured. Tens of thousands missing. Hospitals that were already short on supplies before the disaster are now completely overwhelmed — running out of antibiotics, anaesthetics, basic equipment, to the point where patients are being asked to bring their own supplies and residents are donating whatever they can from their own homes. The type of injuries flooding in are exactly what you'd expect from collapsed buildings: crush injuries, broken bones, fractured limbs.

And that last part — the broken limbs, the fractures — is where a group of us realized we might actually be able to help.

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What we're doing

I've joined a group of makers who decided to put their 3D printers to work for a cause: printing splints for arms, shoulders, wrists and fingers, to be sent to Venezuela in response to the needs created by the earthquakes.

And this isn't a plan for the future, or a nice idea we're talking about doing someday. It's already happening. The first pieces I produced have already been handed over to begin their journey to Venezuela, and I'm currently printing more for the next shipment. Real parts, already made, already on their way to people who need them.

If you've seen my workshop lately, it's covered in these yellow lattice-pattern splints — the wrist braces, the finger splints, the larger arm and shoulder supports — alongside the print supports that hold them together during production. It's become the main thing my printer does now. Every spare hour of print time goes towards the next batch.

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Why splints, and why this design

Here's the clever part, and I can't take credit for the thinking behind it — it came from the collective problem-solving of the group.

The splints are printed in PLA. And the reason that matters is that PLA can be thermoformed with boiling water. You heat the splint up, the plastic becomes pliable, and you can mould it directly to the physical characteristics of each individual person at the actual moment of use. No need for measurements taken in advance. No need to print a custom model for every single patient.

That last point is everything. Producing personalized, made-to-measure splints — one at a time, each modelled to a specific person — would simply never reach the people who need them in time. In a disaster zone where hospitals are overwhelmed and supplies ran out within hours, speed is the entire game. A generic splint that any medic can heat in boiling water and mould to a specific arm or wrist on the spot is infinitely more useful than a perfect custom piece that arrives three weeks too late. We found the solution that prioritizes getting help to people fast, because fast is what actually saves limbs and reduces suffering.

So that's the design philosophy: print a lot, print fast, print something that adapts on arrival rather than something that has to be tailored before it leaves.

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My focus right now

My goal at the moment is simple and direct: produce as many splints as possible.

That's it. That's the whole strategy. Every piece that comes off the printer represents a person who can be helped — someone with a fractured wrist who can be stabilized, someone with a broken finger who can be supported, someone whose shoulder injury can be immobilized properly while they wait for proper care in a system that's stretched beyond breaking point. Each one matters. So I keep the printer running.

It's an entirely solidarity-based collaboration, with no compensation of any kind. Nobody's making money here. Nobody's getting anything out of it except the knowledge that they helped. It's just people with technical know-how, 3D printers, and the will to help. That's the whole thing. That's the whole beautiful, simple thing.

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An invitation

I'm sharing this not only with pride, but also as an invitation.

If you work with 3D printing, or you know someone who does, there's always room for more hands — and more machines — in this cause. The maths is brutally simple: the more printing capacity we have, the more people we can help. One printer running flat out makes a difference. Ten printers makes ten times the difference. A hundred makes a hundred.

You don't need to be an expert. You don't need a fancy setup. You just need a working printer, some PLA, and a few hours of print time you're willing to donate to something that matters. The designs are out there, the group exists, and the need — right now, in Venezuela, today — is enormous and immediate.

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Why this matters to me

I started this blog mostly writing about football, about my car, about my little filament business. The lighter stuff. And I'll go back to all of that. But I wanted to write this one down because it's reminded me of something I think we all forget sometimes when we get lost in the specs and the upgrades and the next cool print.

Technology is worth what it allows us to do for others.

That's it. That's the lesson. We have these incredible machines sitting in our homes and workshops, capable of turning a spool of plastic into almost anything we can imagine. Most of the time we use them to print phone stands and miniatures and little organizers for our desks, and that's fine — that's part of the fun. But every now and then, a moment comes along where that same machine, that same spool of plastic, can become a splint that stabilizes a child's broken arm on the other side of the world. And in those moments you remember that the technology was never really the point. The point was always what we could do with it.

So my printer is going to keep running. Batch after batch, splint after splint, for as long as the need is there. If you can help, reach out. If you can't, that's okay too — but maybe share this, because somewhere out there is another maker with an idle printer who'd want to know.

Technology is worth what it allows us to do for others. Right now, mine is making splints for Venezuela. And I can't think of a better use for it.