Spoons have been with us for an awfully long time - some historians even suggest one thousand years before the time of Christ. It's one of our most basic and useful tools; often a personal spoon would be cherished as a valuable utensil and a person would carry it with him to use on his travels. The gold spoon was reserved for royalty, for they were the only ones that could afford such extravagance. The closest a wealthy layperson could come was silver; most common folk however settled with wood. It's a simple tool, one quickly made, yet every one very individual and unique.
Maybe that's why I find such inspiration from carving spoons. They are a great reminder to me to live differently every time I pick up another piece of wood off the woodpile.
Spoon in a box - Shirley Adler design carved from birch, finished with linseed oil and gloss lacquer. Box 6mm okume plywood, linseed oil and spray shellac. Inspiration for box lid incised carving adapted from Beychevelle Vineyards logo.
Lily ladle - birch, tung oil and spray laquer finish.
Bottom ladles - birch, olive oil finish, jatoba and maple inlays.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
The joining of two woods is a good thing.
The individual grain of one will inevitably oppose the other, but by bonding together they discover stability and strength. Along with another species of wood, they all form a partnership that becomes greater than simply the sum of the parts. All the individual differences combine together to create one unique and beautiful addition to the other tools on the bench.
What could we as people also accomplish - locally and globally - if we would move beyond our fears and begin to celebrate our differences?
"Beware the man of one book."
St Thomas Aquinas
French style marking gauge, jatoba head and wedge with oak beam. Finish tung oil with clear shellac.
Plans and article from Popular Woodworking available here.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
In my garage is a simple, hardwood stool.
It’s old and scarred, but I find myself retreating often into its comforting solidarity. It’s stationed amidst a jumble of shavings, sawdust, and cut-offs, yet it stands with a posture of nobility and strength. It is here that I become quiet, my mind stretching into creative corners that are so often challenged.
It’s a wonderful place of solitude, stillness, and beauty.
It’s here that I sit with my feet up on the disorderly shelf below the workbench. It’s here that my hands do the delicate shaving and shaping of my wooden creations. It’s here that my mind empties of all the chaotic warmongering of the news feeds. It’s here that my world becomes sensible, ordered, and glorious.
And it's here that I wish to begin my journey.