What customers Tell You

When I started seriously working as a marine woodcarver, I had a silly idea that I’d be concentrating on transom banners, billet heads, and quarterboards. It took a woman at a New Hampshire show who wanted me to carve a portrait of her husband’s boat to show me that it was going to be much more.

I also began selling my wooden spoons at shows for supplemental income. They were pretty much plain, straight shaft spoons. A customer walked up and persuaded me to make spoons with curved handles. Not only curved, but reciprocally curved. Those spoons, she said, offered the cook multiple options for gripping and holding the spoon.

Advice like that I received from my customers is like receiving a golden fleece. But without all the effort of adventure, marketing research, mishaps, or trouble. Both tips led to success in sales and satisfying artistic endeavors.

OK. The spoons in the photo are lying on my workbench this afternoon. The straight with the straight shaft one is almost done. But the curved one has a way to go before the curvatures are “fair” in the maritime parlance, and comfortable to the hand. The bowls need to be sanded and polished afterwards. Then they’ll be treated with the mix of beeswax and mineral oil I use to seal them. Afterward, they’ll fit in someone’s stocking for a Christmas present!

Mastery

I’ve gotten good at many skills. But not many have been mastered in an orthodox manner. Let me explain. What you become good at might be an intersection between opportunity, interest, and aid. All kinds of things are possible, but not all are realized.

I am primarily self-taught as a carver, but some crucial books offered hints and tips. Then, there were also mentors. No, not teachers. In those days, when I started, I was too undisciplined to settle down in someone’s studio to learn the basics. And I was much too poor to afford to go to a school or classes. So I’d occasionally visit a mentor’s studio or shop and pick up what was on offer.

If you are self-taught, you may tend to skip things that don’t interest you. Boring basics that perhaps require patience. You just want to get ahead to the “good stuff.” Later on, you “discern” that things are missing because you skipped a basic technique to plow on to something that interested you. I didn’t learn chip carving until I had been carving for about twenty years. It was boring to me. When I learned it, though, it opened up new realizations about knife control and the sharpening of tools. When I began teaching, I made chip carving the introduction to the craft. The basic that I had skipped was a valuable foundation.

I am not advocating for everyone to follow a buttoned-down route to art or craft. Breaking the rules is an invigorating thing that can lead to valuable creative moments. Too rigid adherence to the rules can lead to boring work. No, you need to find an in-between, a balancing point.

The Samurai master Miyamoto Musashi, in his Book of Five Rings, offers a bit of trustworthy advice: from one thing you can learn a thousand things. The aphorisms that Musashi offered were much more than funny sayings. He was a Swordsman, poet, and artist. In the Book of Five Rings, he tried to reduce his methods to key concepts.

The principles of learning are transferable. Learning carving was a gateway to learning many other skills. And the habit of learning is perhaps the most important underlying skill of all.

The habit of learning is perhaps the most important underlying skill of all.

Not Tool?

Daily writing prompt
What could you do more of?

It ain’t tools. I recently swore off my long-lasting and habitual embrace of the Lee-Valley catalog, Highland Tools, and the web for tools. Yes, I know tool lust is addictive. Once you’ve embraced it, it is hard to deny it. But as anyone who has seen the photos of my carving shop knows, it is crammed. It was a tough, but necessary conclusion.

To add more tools to it would require me to build an annex. The annex’s cost would be onerous. My wife might finally put her foot down. She is very patient with me, but I dread testing the limits.

Besides, to build an annex, I’d have to buy some more tools. I’ll have a list ready for tomorrow.

Hustle

Daily writing prompt
Which activities make you lose track of time?

I’ve been a shop recluse recently. The sound of the fan running, the scroll saw, and the mallet hitting the back of the gouge handle are all you hear. Recently, it’s been like the days before the pandemic—several projects in process, a few commissions, and the prospects of further work. It’s good.

The cats, Sabrina and Marcus, insist that all that noise disturbs the visitors to their bird feeder. They are staunch defenders of the birds’ right to eat whenever they want. It’s creating interference with their kitty cat TV. But it seems to me that the chickadees visit just as often. One flew into the shop the other day to see what all the racket was about. I barely noticed. When there is carving to do, I concentrate hard enough that I can lose track of time and the environment.

The three-inch Sloop

A friend wanted another sign with a carving on top of the small sloops his shop builds. I do lots of signs with boats on them, and wanted to make them a bit more independent of the background. This involved coming up with a method for reinforcing the structure. Signs rest their backs on a wall so it had to be flush. The result was pleasing and seems strong:

The finished sign shows the three-inch-long sloop sailing on a textured sea. You don’t see the mortice that holds the sloop onto the signboard. The sea covers that. The mast and sails are carved and separate from the body of the sloop. The reinforcement on the back is securely glued in place. I wouldn’t dare try this method if the carving were free-standing, but being that it will be mounted, it offers a much more realistic impression of a sloop sailing in a brisk breeze.

Several other jobs are in the shop at the same time, so I have plenty to occupy me.

The lead photo is a montage of shots from an Antonio Jacobson portrait of the Clippership Dreadnought. It’s my next big project, and the carving blank is already ready to go as soon as the workbench is clear enough to get carving. This is not a commission. It is an experiment. It was a studied “executive decision” to tackle this project. The Dreadnought is “local. ” She was built in Newburyport in the 1880s, and the nearby Maritime museum happened to have the Jacobson portrait on display. Able to gather enough detail, I am preparing to do some experimental carving on how I render the sails and the perspective of the hull inclined towards the viewer. This is my second attempt at this project. Not all experiments are successful. But there is no progress without a degree of risk.

Progress?

I am about three-quarters of the way done with the great spring workshop clean-up. When I began, I said that the shop was ten pounds in a five-pound bag. I am proud to announce that it is now seven pounds in a five-pound bag.

What? Not impressed?

OK. It will never be the studio beautiful

Here is what it looked like last summer though:

See!!! I’ve been busy.

The Home Library

When my oldest son moved out, we joked that the beams of the house groaned with relief as the weight of his personal library was moved to his new apartment. Not for long, however, as my library collections continued to grow. There is a rather substantial maritime collection on the porch ( about 300 titles). And another collection in my back office. Not having worked for years in anthropology, though, a few years ago, I disposed of most of the anthropological collections that no longer engaged my attention or interests. Even so, it’s a lot of books.

Every collection needs a certain amount of weeding once in a while. But I’m careful in what I send to the used book dealers. The reason why the maritime collection is so large is that the titles can be hard to find, and there is nothing worse than needing the lines of the Ida G Wanderlust of 1903 for a portrait and finding that you disposed of the book it was in. Of course, good luck finding a replacement when you need it. So on the porch, that and others sit. And the house groans with the weight.

But somewhere in every collection, there is a little shelf or worn books you’ve found reason to use most often. The small collection pictured above is in that class. Some are very general reference books on carving that I recommend to others, and then there are some specific books on techniques and carvers that I’ve found most helpful to have close at hand. Books on eagle carving, lettering, and chip carving. Then there are favorite authors: Chris Pie, Dick Onians, Wayne Barton, and Graham Bull. All of these have been poured over repeatedly.

These are among the titles and authors I advise students to read. I’d even go so far as to fling down the gauntlet and challenge the serious beginner to master a tenth of what is contained in them. Without apprenticeships, books remain your best resource for learning. No, YouTube videos are great, but your library is still your best friend if you really need to dive deep.

Cane and Walking Stick Heads

Models and prototypes are important. They record what you like about a product, and offer a guide for improvement on the next iteration.

When I did boat shows, most of my sales came from larger ticket items like eagles, transom banners, quarter boards, and boat portraits. But a significant amount also came from selling wooden kitchenware and a line of canes and walking sticks. These were cash on the barrelhead items. No long drawn-out process of estimates, renderings, and deposits. That evening the money paid for dinner with friends, or the hotel bill.

I still use some of my canes and sticks—they were made to be sturdy and last. Last night, I was rummaging around the basement workshop and found these models that I used as guides for carving. The rabbit was a favorite with the kids.

Spree!!

I went to the greenhouse shop this week to clean and set up for the next ship portraits I’ll be carving. I cut the wood blanks in the fall, and the preliminary artwork was done in December. Usually, I clean and then begin work in February, but this has not been a typical year. Too cold and too icy.

While cleaning, I sort through tools I don’t expect to use. It’s mostly items for making chests and large boxes that fall into that category. For the time being, I’ll move them into the basement shop I rarely use. I need the room in the greenhouse for planned projects. Tool needs fluctuate with demand. While I do not think I’ll make another searchest or small chest, I’ve learned never is not a safe word.

While never is not a safe word, I feel safe in saying no more tool buying sprees are in the offing. Last year I made two very select purchases of used carving tools. Those rounded out the selection needed for my portrait carving. These were mostly small tools of odd profiles that are not manufactured anymore. I am probably their third owner.

But I still peruse my favorite catalog and website: Lee Valley Tools. For a woodworker, it qualifies as a sort of tool porn. “!!!Looka this one – Jeezz! I just hafta get that!”

These days, I try to be more restrained. When I go to their site, I hide the charge card. I force myself to have cooling-off time after I get excited and before I hit add to my cart. Then I hum a few bars of Amazing Grace or some such tune to distract myself. I go and have a cup of tea.

Who am I fooling? I need that new detail sander! The small tool sharpener! The tiny plane for groundwork and their work support kit is on sale. I’ll find some way to fit it into the budget.

Tool lust is a terrible thing to have.

Daily writing prompt
Where would you go on a shopping spree?

Flashback Friday – from February 2019 – My shop is not Instagram Ready

Yes, my shop is not Instagram-ready. The basement shop where the bandsaws, table saw, planer, and such reside is OK. If you are interested in bare stone walls and equipment that everyone else has.
The carving shop, where I do most of my work, is an eight-by-ten greenhouse. Part of it still serves as a greenhouse. In my part of the country, my large rosemary plants die terrible deaths outside in winter. They and the figs live inside the greenhouse all winter. The workbench, tool racks, and lots of little storage units for small tools, adhesives, abrasives, and finishes take up the remaining area.


I moved this part of my operation out here because I can heat the small space comfortably, even during the winter. The much larger basement shop, has howling wind whistling through rough stone foundation.

A few other reasons apply as well. My cat likes the space in winter so I sometimes have her company as I carve. The small size also puts size limits on the commissions I can accept -” downsized the shop. Can’t do that stuff anymore.” A final reason is that, in the winter when I am sitting in my little shop with a visitor, it takes me back to coastal Maine. I recall the hours of conversations with craftsmen and fishermen in similar small shops. It’s a link to other tmes and places on which I set a high value.
But, It’s not Instagram ready. The rows of small plastic storage containers would look much more “crafty” if they were shop made from wood. The untidy piles and boxes of extra wood, half-finished projects, patterns, and drawings should be cleaned up. Ain’t going to happen. At root, I don’t care if my shop is not Instagram ready.

Iron

Iron ore as a carving material? That’s what I’ve been told this is. As a portrait of a Native American, it’s well done, detailed, and has a certain patina of age about it.

Knowing that I was a carver, one of my wife’s grandmothers gave it to me as a present. She and her husband picked it up in the 1950s or 1960s on one of their many rambles through New England, buying antiques. I believe it served as a paperweight for many years.

It is red but with some dark patination. As I mentioned, Grandma said it was carved out of iron ore, which is what I have on it.

I’ve taken it to carving classes to show the wide variety of materials that can be carved.

If you know something about iron ore carving, please leave a note.