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I Forge Iron

The Bonds of Blacksmithing and the craft.


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EricJergensen is taking a class whose final project is a short paper on blacksmithing, the subject of his choice, We have discussed several ideas for his paper and he would like to have your input on the following:

 

As you put your efforts into making a project at or on the anvil, do you form any type of bond (or feeling) with the project?

 

Is this bond (or feeling) different when the item is for sale?

When an item is for an individual as a gift?

When an item for someone that is ill or sent to them to brighten their day and lift their spirits?

 

When a blacksmith passes, do you form any type bond (or feeling) with them as you ring the anvil once for each year of their life?

 

Can you describe the bonds (or feelings) that exists between blacksmiths due to their common interest in the craft?

 

You can post here or PM Eric directly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Awesome subject. 

I consider myself un-employable. I make a project, maybe spend a month developing it, get it to a salable state, and then quit making it, and go to the next challenge. Probably the worst business plan known to humankind. The journey is the destination. I'm not alone here.

 I don't care if it's for sale or not, if a new person comes in to the shop for a simple welding job, and see's all the niftty wall hangers laying around, I can sell them on an idea, and they are happy to have met me by the end of the job.

I've had two mentors pass away in front of my eyes. All the bros got together and we had an appropriate send off. The neat thing about this trade is, you got to sweat it up to make, well , anything. The country where I come from says if you busted your butt to make something pretty, I'll drink a bottle at your wake.

I know smiths from literally all walks of life. We all leave our current views of life on the sidewalk, get together, and make great stuff. The smithy is a hallowed place.

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being really new to this ... everything i make amazes me ... i'm proud of my lop-sided hook with the crummie twist , and often i'll be hours away from the forge/anvil , i'll look at my hook , turn to the wife and say " you know i really like the way this turned out !" and the plan for a better one starts, i wish i had the skills and equipment to make better things, these will come in time... with good people to push me in the right direction i will get better and make beautiful things , and meet some great people on the way ! 

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For me it's the process. The finished product is evidence of my competence or the lesson. I learn something every time I light a fire and put steel in it.

 

I find it to be a meditative process, something that can help get my head straight. No matter what my mood nothing will come out right if I don't control all the steps and you can't control other things unless you control yourself. No matter how I feel I have to be in the right frame of mind to blacksmith. Blacksmithing is a tremendous method in itself for putting myself in a good mood.

 

Do I form bonds with my work? Not really, no. I've never felt a great deal emotionally about the pieces themselves beyond the making. Selling or giving work is a little different. I want folk to like my work and feel something good from it. It's like cooking in that way, most folk who really enjoy cooking get most of their satisfaction from seeing others enjoy the food. Forging a piece for someone else is satisfying if it performs, if the receiver likes it. Even the pieces that have been stolen makes me feel a little bit of satisfaction that someone liked it enough to take the risk of being caught by the guy holding the hammer.

 

In another sense of the word,  "bond" I have to say no. I feel no attachment to my work, as such. Occasionally I remember a piece fondly but more for the things I learned making it, not the piece itself.

 

Ringing the anvil at a person's passing is a death ritual like any other. It only really means something to the person ringing the anvil and exactly how, when or why is up to the person ringing. We practice a craft that will outlive us, with tools that will outlive us. Blacksmithing isn't the only such craft, some crafts may well outlive the human race. What humans have, other critters don't, is a desire to live on, not pass.

 

I think ringing the anvil might be a reminder that we all pass. Ring the anvil; it's loud, clear and ephemeral, it's there then its gone. Period. We may last longer but we pass. Many cultures practice this kind of death ritual. The Japanese often make little paper boats that carry a candle and watch them float away in the night. Or write poetry, hiku I think, and float it away in a stream, or burn it. I know, the Japanese have more death rituals, everybody does.

 

What do I do? I say a word when I hear of someone passing, if it occurs to me next time I'm at the anvil I'll think of them while I forge. For me it's more significant to let the sound of work memorialize them rather than missed blows. Not that a rap on the anvil is a missed blow if that's the intent of the swing. Still, it feels more of a memorial to make something in their name, so to speak.

 

What do blacksmiths have in common goes farther than the anvil for sure. I like being with blacksmiths even if we're raking the barn. We tend to be problem solvers and even doing mundane every day things we're designing better tools or techniques to do the job. I really LIKE problem solvers, we have things in common to talk about. Things we don't have to explain except maybe details of a part of the process or the next project or problems. It's all good though some of us can be abrasive, all of us are on occasion. I know if I haven't ticked you off recently you haven't been paying attention, meaning I haven't said or done something worthy of paying attention to recently. And THAT ticks ME off. <grin>

 

I like being in the company of makers, if they make with the same stuff we have a common language and that's good. However if they make with something else they're a font of new stuff to learn but we still have being makers in common. An old signoff of mine was, "Maker of Things." Anyone who plies a craft is worth listening to and watching. If they ply the same craft it's worth listening and watching to learn new tricks even when they're in the, "NEVER do THAT!," category.

 

Well, I'm sure that's way more than you wanted but I'm a windy maker of things, I make with words too.

 

Frosty The Lucky.

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I had a friend who I had never met; we had corresponded, shared the same smithing forums; bounced ideas and sources off each other, shared experiences over the net.  I was finally going to meet him in person at Quad-State one year.We didn't meet that year or any other; instead I was asked to give the farewell toast around the campfire.  I found a ceramic cup with a lion on it and I gave the toast and we passed the cup and at the end of the circle it and the last sip went into the fire----never to be used for a lesser task.

 

Each year I get to Quad-State I still try to wear an aloha shirt with lederhosen on the opening Friday in his honour as he was the one who recognized the reference, (RAH, Glory ROAD) in a post many years ago. In memory of a friend I never got to meet: Paw Paw Wilson.

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that is a good bunch of questions. I put some of my heart in every thing I make and as it comes to life I see the feeling and care that I put in it. I do ring the anvil 3 times at the start of a project for the friends that that have passed to thank them for the wisdom that they freely shared with me. As blacksmith we are in control of the elements, earth, air, fire and water. and by combining them we bring pieces to life buy love, force and balance of will and might.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Frosty, very nicely said. 

 

I'm also brand spanking new at this, but as I have already told some friends it's amazing to me how meditative - and yes, even spiritual - time spent on the anvil is, each and EVERY time.  I go totally into a zone where everything else falls away - job stress, life stress, my to-do lists, my everything - all falls away to the rhythm of anvil and fire.  I look up and have spent 4 hours or 8 hours totally focused on metal and fire, and it feels like 30 minutes has passed.   The very definition of living in the moment, which in and of itself is a spiritual practice.   I agree with Frosty that makers-of-things are a special breed, and like him I enjoy problem solvers.  My "real" job is in computers and I spend much of my time troubleshooting problems you cannot put your hands on, unlike blacksmithing where it's easy enough to see where a twist went wrong or a hook isn't quite right - a different kind of troubleshooting.  

 

Frederich Buechner, one of my favorite theologians, said your "calling" is that place where your great passion meets the world's great need.  The world probably doesn't really NEED blacksmiths anymore, but I haven't produced a piece yet - even the duds - that didn't make someone smile and reminisce about basic craft and the beauty of making something with your own hands.  Maybe that alone is the blacksmith's calling. 

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Oh yes forging is great for what my wife calls "constipation of the soul". As another CIS person I can attest that after a hard day of chasing misbehaving 1's and 0's hitting *something* with a hammer repeatedly is very very therapeutic---it's the giggling as I take orange hot steel from the forge that makes everyone *step* *back*...

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Well perhaps it doesn't help that I tell students that hot iron has the right-away and if you are between it and the anvil they can brand you with it---never had a case of it's happening *but* it sure does make them stay aware of where the hot iron is in relation to themselves...that and the giggling... 

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I always feel strongly about the work that I do.  I don't know if I can explain it, but I really like forging iron more than any other craft I've tried. I can tan deerskins, weave baskets, shoot rifles and grow a garden, but forging iron just harkens to the soul in some way.

 

Last night I was finishing up my first big order and had to go through them again and again to make sure they were decent.  I was so tired and sore and frustrated that I could have spit three times, but I still had a deep feeling of satisfaction when I looked at that pile of stuff.  I can't think of anything worse than sending out sub-par iron wares.

 

A lot of my projects are on hold indefinitely because I need to learn more before I can finish them properly.  They deserve better than I can do.

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I do in a sense bond with my some of my work. Just something about taking a piece of old scrap metal and turning it into a tool with a whole new life and purpose. I think this is why the craft touches me as deeply as it does. While behind the anvil I see life from the perspective of The Master Blacksmith. I see my flaws and imperfections as the piece of steel and I see the work of His hammer and feel the heat of His forge as I am forged and molded to be what he sees fit.

Secondly, while behind the anvil I see the hardships of days past when the blacksmith was vital. I see the farmers fixing plows and the like that was used to support their families.

Thirdly, who wouldnt like to hit hot metal on an anvil It is just awesome.

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