Burlington

I suppose I do have a minor form of the travel bug. I was sitting at home for the past week and when the opportunity to come up to Burlington for a few days arose, I leapt on it.

When the sun sets on the other side of Lake Champlain this town gets cold. This morning you couldn't see it rise; flake by giant flake snow floated to cover the ground in a thin coat that would survive in the shadows but slowly be swallowed by the sun as it moved in its usual way.

The last time that I was up here I came up on the first sunny/warm day since winter descended on Vermont. Turned out yesterday was also the first warm day of the year. When I stepped out of the car at UVM in my down jacket Mike Brandon met me in short sleeves.

Officially my road trip has ended, but my pursuit to blacksmith in the foreseeable future has not.

Friday

Jim Thorpe is an old coal town in the Lehigh valley, once called the Switzerland of the US for it's idyllic mountain setting. It turns out that it also has a sizeable St. Paddy's day parade. Standing in line at the atm in town, the person in front of me and behind me started talking in true Irish brogues. It was legitimate.


Out in Hamburg, David Fisher's propane forge was running hot and his apprentice was busy brushing up a piece by the time I walked in at 7:45. The pieces that David was working on today were actually for a show tomorrow at Cabelas in Hamburg, PA. The reason he was able to work on these pieces today was because work is slow. The economy is slowing down and this little shop has felt it. Well, the shop isn't little at all. It's actually one of the larger shops that I've seen.

In a stark comparison I also stopped by the stained glass shop of Nic East. Nic East worked as a blacksmith in a fully staffed shop for thirty some years and then called it quits to retire in historic downtown Jim Thorpe, PA. Even though he had a considerable background in metal-working, it was clear that he had moved on. When I brought up blacksmithing, he introduced me to his current work, glass jewelry...

This one's for Gaskin.

A Dragon's Head and Gettysburg

At 7: 40 I woke up and put a new ticket on my dashboard in the parking lot across from the apartment. From 8-10 I gained a new appreciation for the West Wing, then from 10 till 11 I cleaned up and packed up my side of the apartment and left for Frederick, Maryland.

In Frederick I met Tim Beachley. His shop, much like others I have seen, was well outfitted and relatively comfortable. By putting money that he has made from jobs over the past eight years to tools and equipment, he's been able to work around having to get a loan for equipment and then having to find work to supplement his payments.

Even though he's only been smithing for eight years, his work is off the charts. He got into blacksmithing after taking a welding class and wanting to do more than work with well polished and machined metal. One thing led to another and he started to attend his local blacksmithing guild meetings and started putting out well-crafted work in no time.

One of the things that he has excelled at is creating dragon's heads. He's put them on the ends of fire pokers, fire-place brooms and shovels, bottle openers, door handles and now he has created a smoke stack for a grill that will be auctioned off at the next meeting of his local ABANA affiliate.



He started out with pipe, narrowed it at one end for the head and then started forging. His piece probably includes just as much welding as it does forged work. I believe he said that he had to punch out two hundred scales, which were eventually welded on. For the eyes of the dragon he used ball bearings inside of a few sheets of welded metal. He explained to me the way he created the definition on the lower jaw, but it is escaping me at the moment.

After talking for a long while and looking over his portfolio, we parted and I set on my way. My next destination was a hostel, but on the way a sign displaying, "Gettysburg 8 Miles" ultimately changed my course.

After parking at the old visitor's center I walked over a knoll and looked over the battlefield. The sun, low in the sky behind a curtain of clouds, managed to break through, illuminating the fields of Gettysburg in a lighting befitting of pastures where our ancestors fought and fell to one anothers' gun and sword. Walking over the cold, crunching grass of Cemetery Ridge I could only think of the lives of the Union men who were once there. Where I walked men fought; where I walked men died; where I walked men bled into the ground and grass, the same grass that grows today.




The wind was strong in the valley and as you looked out towards the mountains it would hit you like a wall of rushing soldiers. The magnitude of the thoughts and feelings I had was equalled by the breadth and depth of the landscape, the wind and monuments standing at once together and totally alone.

I left the fields of Gettysburg, wound my way through the Pine Grove Furnace State Park to where I find myself tonight.

Savannah Take Two

I drove down on 17 from Charleston to Savannah yesterday with my windows open. Today I am wearing shorts and shorts sleeves and already, it feels like 60 something.

Yesterday was not nearly as nice, warm in the sun and cool in the shade. The park is already green, the flowers are flowering and the spirit feels somewhat lifted not to have the burden of a slow transition from late winter to spring to summer:

Savannah has it, the perfect layout. Victorian houses surrounding beautiful square parks. And if you don't live on Forsythe Park or another one, you're only a small walk away. I can see myself spending some time on a bench today.

I looked into SCAD yesterday and found that they have a penchant for taking over old religious buildings and turning them into student work space (i.e. the Scot Rite Temple and the old Synagogue). But truthfully, its like the RISD of the south. After my tour I set out to talk with Prof. Huang of the Architecture department. A case of bad directions and thirty minutes later I found the architecture building, a security officer who is going to pray for my acceptance into the college, and a realization that architecture might not be for me. A fact that was disclosed to me was that most Architecture majors who graduated last year have been laid off. I suppose that makes sense seeing as how the housing market has been having a few ups and downs.

I should get off of this coffee-house couch and see Savannah.

A Smorgasbord

Even though I have been blogging everyday I feel as though I am behind on what I want to share. This blog and the next few might be somewhat of a smorgasbord of pictures, captions and thoughts.

Finding myself under the weather in Savannah, literally (it was raining, gusting wind and cold), I hiked up to Charleston a day earlier than had planned:


While at the John C. Campbell I had the chance to collaborate with Anne, a clay sculptor. Anne was from Florida and was building a miniature bird house and needed a plant hanger for the outside of her house. The hanger that I made is barely visible but if you look closely it is to the left of the doorway.


Our class created a lot of plant hangers as a way of practicing the fundamental techniques of making a sharp corner, scrolling, tapering, and attaching by using strap hinges. This is the second of my two hangers. In my next post you will be able to see some of my classmates'.

Traveling from the mountains of North Carolina to the lowlands of the Georgian coast I decided to swing into an antique store (an antique junk-yard might be a more apt description). Sitting there in the open were three blacksmithing/post vices. The proper vice for blacksmithing has a leg that extends to the floor so to allow the shock to be absorbed not only by the "latch" attaching it to a table but by the ground. I believe this vice is of English make and is about three to four feet tall. I haggled this puppy down to fifty dollars..

Savannah

I've reached it, the city that Sherman didn't raze to the ground. It's beautiful. Like something out of every person's quintessential thoughts of the olde south. The buildings are stagnant in time, trying to remain upright and in tact through the rain, heat and humidity. Moss stretching from trees and green leaves like rich pieces of candy hang lazily in the wind.

The rain only recently let up and the night has become somewhat cool. I'm staying in the Savannah Pension, a second story apartment in an old residential building turned hostel. I'm the first and only guest of the season. This is one of those places that you know you will return to.

John C. Campbell is also one of those places I will return to. The people there were wonderful and welcoming. The pieces that people created.. Such a depth of talent and creativity came out during the course of the week. Among those creative minds was Joey, the Alaskan boat-builder. Here he is holding one of his pieces:


He started by bending flat stock to create a box and then proceeded to forge a metal in-lay based upon the mythological Norse tree of life. He knew what he wanted to create and was able to create it without much planning. If I'm not mistaken the box isn't complete, I believe he is going to continue forging decorative pieces around the other sides.

I was glad I was able to talk to him as much as I did. At 19 he was in the amazon with a friend or two floating down the river on a raft that they created with the machetes they carried. He's been apple picking in New Zealand, hitch hiked with his girlfriend from NY to Montreal, worked on a pig farm in England and so much more. He has become learned through travel, funded by bouts of work, much like what I did to get to where I am now. A fun fact, he plans to turn those pants that he is wearing in the picture into chaps; they're so hardened by god knows what kind of oils and dirt and debris that they're unwearable without long johns underneath..

Sitting around or driving for long periods of time listening to regional radio stations, it has dawned on me that when you're in the south you have to listen to country music. When you're anywhere else you can choose your poison. Its something about being in the place where the music comes from. Perhaps you can understand it better. I'm listening to Joe Purdy at the moment. He's more folk than country but his voice comes from the mountains, and anywhere there is mountains, good music is made.

The banjo (pronounced banjar) making instructor at the folk school actually left where ever he was from to spend years up in the mountains of North Carolina to learn classical banjo from those who came out of the womb with one in hand.

I'm signing off here and will be back to blog tomorrow.

A Moment to Spare

I've caught the blacksmithing bug. I'm here writing but would rather have a hammer in my hand, an anvil to my right and a forge to my left. Today has most likely been the most productive day in the shop. Early on Paul, the resident blacksmith (a job smiths would die for), came in and helped me with my hammer grip. He and Susan, my instructor for the week, both trained with Uri Hoffi, an Israeli smith. Uri not only patented a way of striking, but makes his own hammers. Every now and then he travels to the US, teaches classes, and visits smiths. I looked into his classes but was somewhat swayed by the hefty price tag..

Last night while talking to my parents they suggested I make a new coat rack for the basement, so I did. Rather, I should say I have been building it and hope to finish it tonight. My coat rack is based off of Francis Whittaker's. From what I've gleaned, Francis Whittaker was the head smith while the Folk School was being put together. You can see his coat racks in the dining room down the hall where one drops off his plates.

I've just finished the hooks and need to brush the scale (the flaky stuff that forms when the steel oxidizes). If I want to finish tonight, I must get back to the shop..

Getting Closer

I'm finally putting together finalized pieces. The tongs that you're about to see aren't complete, I still have to put a rivet through the flat pieces behind the "jaws."

The heart is held against the hanger with strap hinges.

Hooks

Tongs

This is another heart, actually the heart that I placed in the plant hanger.

What I've Done

An unnecessarily large fire.

A work in progress

A Texas Nose picker

A "pineapple twist"

Coat Rack, turned out to be a Pi symbol

9 Hours in the Fire

The black isn't coming off my hands. As people from my class went into the dining hall you could hear people all over say something like, "Oh, you must be in blacksmithing."

Its been so long since I've been in the mountains. They stand surreally, almost like a set on a hollywood movie. I've also forgotten how many stars there are. I walked back from the smith shop last night sometime around 10:30 and stood there on the hill to my cabin, just looking up.

So far I've made 10 or so hooks, an L piece used for hanging plants and such, a Texas nose picker (I don't know what it is either, I didn't invent it), and a piece meant for hanging jackets.

I should have pictures of my pieces either tonight or tomorrow morning, for the moment, enjoy the view.

John C. Campbell

I arrived yesterday afternoon around three, and was into the forge by eight. Susan Hutchinson, my teacher, stood five-foot-something-small and was maybe just as or more excited than we were. In all there are seven people in my class coming from as far away as Illinois, California, and Alaska. Joseph, the guy from Alaska, has been here for one week and is going to be staying for three more. He is a boat builder by trade and wants to be able to incorporate traditional techniques in his craft. He showed the class oar locks he made last week, and they were something else. While we practiced making points and hooks he blackened his pieces which is a process where you heat up the metal to a black heat and apply a wax. When it cools down the metal and wax harden and its given almost a matte black finish.

I don't have any pictures just yet but should have some tomorrow. The only place with wi-fi here is the main lodge, it has a name but its escaping me at the moment. I'm not sure whether I'll be blogging in the mornings or the night just yet, it all depends on how much. time I can spend in the forge..

Hillsville..

Its true to it's name. A gaggle of pit stop places and overnight abodes are scattered off exit 41. From my window I can see the pool which I will not be swimming in and the interstate passing through the valley.

Today's drive was the most enjoyable drive thus far. With ascents up mountains and hills and bridges spanning valleys and waterways, it made for a scenic route. Only once did I see another plate from Massachusetts. Besides that it was all Virginia, Maryland and a sprinkling of other northeast states.

Although I expected it to be warm and to see leaves here, I am content with the landscape, the weather, and the lush greens of the pines.

From Paper to Production

With the help and guidance of Matt at Falling Hammer Productions I created my first fully conceptualized piece.  The piece that you see above took six hours to make.

To create the four leaves I used a band saw to make four 3/8 "fingers" out of a 3/4" bar.  To achieve the "gold" finish the steel was brushed with a brass brush while the bar was in black heat (1000 or so degrees).

I've spent the last few days at Trinity in the insurance capitol of the world and will be moving on to the big apple tomorrow.

4 am

I'm just waking up from an epic nap, realizing I haven't blogged.  

Yesterday, which was four hours and fifteen minutes ago, I went to talk with the smiths at Falling Hammer Productions in Oakville, CT.  Their shop was tucked away in an old factory building that had been converted to retail space.  With layers of dirt petrifying on the windows, the factory looked as though it had been out of commission for quite awhile. It seemed fitting that a blacksmith shop would take residence in such a building, a place that was once useful and productive now reinventing itself to become pertinent once more.

Falling Hammer Productions is a modern day blacksmith shop. This means they do a lot of installation pieces on pre-fabricated railings and gates.  Every time the job calls for custom pieces that can be forged, they'll forge, but times call for a lot of methods of modern smithing that are less expensive and less time consuming than taking hammer to steel.  

Even with spring like temperatures outside, the shop remained cold, insulated by rock walls and literally tons of scrap metal lining the floor.  Peter showed me around and explained to me every tool and piece of equipment in the place.  Falling Hammer Production was started three years ago when three blacksmiths found that they could produce more and better work if they worked together in one shop.  Not being able to get in contact with Mr. Spademan of Iron Fire art and Mr. Brown of Lightning Fire I inquired whether I could work on a piece with Matt or Peter. They were free and I'll be returning tomorrow (read: today) and will have a new piece (or two) to show for it.  

Lay-over

It's been a day at home. I've worked on applications and prepared myself for a month and maybe more of travel.

Time and time again people keep telling me that joining my local affiliate group will help me in my pursuit of all things blacksmith. So today I can officially say I am a member of the Artist Blacksmith Association of North America and have my paper work en route to make me a card carrying member of the New England Blacksmiths. The New England Blacksmiths do meets every so often. As described by Mr. Glaser, everyone and anyone who dabbles in blacksmithing shows up. I'll be missing their meet in February but hope to make the next..

Tomorrow, life on the road begins.

Providence

Definition: a manifestation of divine care or direction.

Alicia gave me the grand tour of RISD today. The school is really something else. Set upon a hill, upon a river the school retains a student population so alive it is as if the campus has a pulse. On campus, you can tell that somewhere, somehow creativity is constantly manifesting.

The most poignant advice I received today was from a guy named Brian. Before RISD he worked with a photographer for two years. He told me, "If you want to learn specific skills, it is better to do it elsewhere. You will eventually learn them here, but its not the same." And with that, it started a thought process that is still turning like cars on a roundabout searching for an exit. Perhaps I might spend some time smithing and exploring different avenues of metal working. Perhaps then I'll find myself at an art school learning the fine points of design.

When it happens, when something happens, when a choice is made, when the cars find an exit, I'll let you know.

Those In Maine

Its something about Maine. Something about Portland and Bates and genuine people.

Willa Wirth invited me into her studio this evening and showed me her work. For that hour in her hill top shop she spoke from the heart on everything from facing choices to the benefits of using a hammer with shine...

I'll be returning to Maine, hopefully sooner than later.

A Formal Education

Today I woke up without the help of my alarm clock. It wasn't on purpose, I had set my alarm for 6:30 pm. It was still somewhat dark outside and there in Ned's dorm it dawned on me, I forgot to bring sandals for the shower. Hopefully I didn't contract any weird foot diseases, sadly, only time will tell.

I was originally supposed to take a four day class with Derek, however it had to be canceled due to under enrollment. Instead I opted to work 1 on 1 with Derek for two days. An experience that Robert Menard said he wished he had when he was starting out... Derek's blows with the hammer were precise and efficient in stark contrast to mine. With one heating of the stock (iron) he would forge a taper to a fine point. With more than four heatings and several glances of hammer on anvil I managed something like a taper. In my seven hours in the shop I managed to make two S-hooks, one wall hook, and three nails.

Tedious and humbling would be the words that I would use to describe working on nails. At least, in the beginning, it takes a lot of time and precision for such a small and simple object.

Writing about forging makes me want to return to the forge. Like so many other things only through time and practice will I ever be able to create the pieces that I see in books, the pieces that evoke the artist's message so clearly that the piece demands to be taken apart. It demands you study every twist and turn of the iron, every inflection where hammer hit metal. Those masterpieces are what I wish to create. These simple skills, tapering, drawing out, twisting, are what I need to master before I can create much of anything. What I made today were pieces to practice those fundamental techniques:



Today I broke for a two hour lunch while Derek worked with kids from the Waldorf school in Freeport. I talked with the kids' teacher, Carl. The way he described the Waldorf school, it was like something out of a dream: it was a school where few actual tests were taken, where there was an emphasis on the arts and where teachers approached their discipline with the final goal of educating the spirit and the mind of each child in order for better understanding of the self. It sounded like something I might have enjoyed.

Derek lent me two books, Mastering the Fundamentals of Blacksmithing by Mark Aspery and Forged Architectural Metalwork by Peter Parkinson. I hope to finish both tonight..

The Making of a Footprint

Went to bed at 12:30 last night and woke up at six. I slowly swung my legs over the bed and stared at the first rays of light prying through the shades into the gloomy room. Shadows left over from the night still clung to the walls and to the clothes scattered on the floor. I walked over to the shade and pulled it open to reveal a sun, barely there. The snow was heavy on the trees and the sky began to change its disposition, glowing orange along the horizon... As I drove north the ceiling of the sky descended. Clouds hovered and fleetingly let loose flurries of snow. At eleven I pulled off 95 to meet with Robert Menard of the Ball and Chain Forge in Portland, Maine.

Like Carl West, Robert also had a beard. His shop was small and the building that it was in was actually run as a co-op (Hi, are you a member of REI?). He shared the space with a carpenter and an artist, whom I saw for two seconds before he scurried into his corner. Robert started smithing at 14 and worked many trades to gather the skill set and the vast number of tools that he has now. The Ball and Chain has only been open for eight years.

He told me the straight and narrow: Its a business. The second piece that he ever made, he sold. As much as you love the craft you have to realize blacksmithing as a career means putting out product on a consistent basis so that you can pay the overhead, the simple cost of just running/renting/working a smith shop. According to him there is no dabbling in blacksmithing, once you're in, you're hooked.

Every time a Blink 182 song came on in the car back on the road north, I couldnt help but to feel as though I was in a bad teenage road trip movie. (see Road Trip, Euro Trip)

Metal Sculpture at Bates College

I find myself at Bates and impressed by what I have seen. It makes me wonder why I didn't look at this college or even think about it when I was applying. In fact I didn't look at any school in Maine. Anywho, I have met up with a friend from home, Ned, with whom I'll be staying for the next few days.

For the moment I am making good use of the library, and Ned's login, without it this post might have never happened. I'm signing off, but will be back tomorrow after I smith with Derek Glaser!