The Shape of Experiences

 The Shape of Experiences

Demonstrating at The Wharf at York.  Photo by Darrell Markewtiz.

The truth of the matter is I'm not quite sure where to start. There have been so many things that have shaped my understanding as it is now. (And that understanding is ever evolving.) But I would suppose that as long as each of the segments is mostly coherent they need not be in any kind of chronological order.

Opportunities...that is probably a good place to start.

I am fortunate, and I know it. The people I have found have been very generous with me in time, in sharing of knowledge, in trust and belief in me and in sharing opportunities with me. And let's not forget the sharing of their personal expertise... I don't know how much part I played in “making” these opportunities for myself...I know sometimes that is the case. There are people who are very good at that. I don't believe myself to be one of them. Most of my opportunities have been gifted to me, and I have tried, on the whole, to do them justice.

I have been gifted with so many opportunities throughout my lifetime from so many individuals – but here I am trying to concentrate on a reasonable time period and have some semblance of focus. So anyone who might happen upon this who has been someone who has given me a chance – you are not forgotten or overlooked...but this is not my life story, and only a slice of the behind the scenes of my business...and I thank you.

For a number of years I was fortunate enough to demonstrate blacksmithing at the Toronto Waterfront Festival. This was truly one of those opportunities that was a gift, mixed with beginners luck. I did not get the job through an application process, nor because of my superior skill at smithing or demonstrating. I got the job because years before I had taken an introductory jewellery course at George Brown College and I had met some amazing people in the class. My work had turned out reasonably well in the class. I attribute that to general hand skills, beginners luck and having some idea about metal process from my meager blacksmithing experience. One of the people I met there was Rick Kunst, a jack-of-many trades who is skilled in everything he undertakes. We exchanged information and that was that.

Several years later – as so often happens we had never contacted each other – the phone rang and it was Rick. Yes, of course I remembered him (if you know Rick you know he is not particularly forgettable)...what was he up to?

Turned out he was somehow involved with the group putting on the Waterfront Festival, and he/they thought it might be cool to have people demonstrate crafts that were kind of ship related. Did I want to demonstrate blacksmithing?

This was not something I was prepared for. It was not really something I was ready to do. It was something I had never done.

I explained that I was not a particularly proficient smith, I had never demonstrated before and I might not be his best choice. I really didn't have the gear for a demonstration – I had no overhead of any kind, and probably a few other disclaimers. I pointed him to another couple of blacksmiths who would be a way better choice. But … I'd love to do it.

I can't honestly remember if the other smiths were contacted or if I told Rick I'd have to think about it, or where the discussion went from there. But I remember that Rick had decided I'd be good at it – and when I bounced it off the other smiths I'd pointed him to, they were encouraging too. Everyone else said I could do it. Somehow, I decided to go with their decision and I did it.

When I was there, I met another couple of great and amazing people – Adam Smith – leatherworker extraordinaire and Len Heidebrecht – cooper extraordinaire – though both of them have other talents as well...one of whom (Adam) very kindly provided me with the loan of an overhead. Considering the weekend was wet and cold and lonely (only a few dozen people showed up that year – at least where we were set up). There was another demonstrator there for a bit demonstrating knot tying, but as he floated in and out I didn't get to know him so well. The three of us kept each other company, and they often came to stand by the forge and get warm – one of the reasons the blacksmith's shop was a popular place to sit around and gossip historically...it was warm! The two of them, though they didn't know me at all were very encouraging. I got to make a chain hook for the Empire Sandy that year, and I became, for the next number of years “the blacksmith from the Waterfront Festival”.

This turned into something that taught me so much and in so many ways shaped who I and my business are becoming...it did not bring me fame or fortune (though I did get to look a bit daft on a TV news spot one year, and the pay for the demonstrations was good.) It did not make my business “take off” (though I did meet some people who were good contacts and gave me something very impressive for my CV). It did not make me become something just from the opportunity it afforded me, but it changed so many subtle things that are still resonating to this day that it did, in fact, change my life, and the life of my business.

One of the things it taught me, besides the fact that I could, in fact, do this was that in many ways being a less proficient smith makes me an ideal demonstrator for helping people to really understand the truth about blacksmithing. One of the reasons that I was kept in the position was, quite frankly, because I am not a traditional blacksmith. I am a woman, and I am very small. Rick, in particular, felt that this would be an inspiration to people who do not fit the “type” that they can do not only this, but anything. And I believe that he is right in that. I break the stereotype (I pretty much shatter it actually.)

I have seen many blacksmiths demonstrate. And most of the ones I have seen are masters at their craft...both at demonstration (which is an art in itself) and at smithing. The biggest trouble with that in today's society is that being a master at your craft and demonstrating something you have done hundreds of times, it makes it look easy. Once upon a time, people understood that that ease came with skill and repetition. That is easier to miss today. People don't tend to understand in the same way that that ease took hundreds or thousands of hours at (insert craft or trade here), hundreds of days, multiple years.

I am a reasonably good demonstrator – I have taught other skills and I can communicate fairly well (most of the time.) I have put in a lot of time to learn to do that and have other skills that help me in my ability to demonstrate. But in smithing I have lots of knowledge in my head, but significantly less with my hands. I just have not been able to put in the time to be technically proficient. I'm better now than I was then, but I still struggle. And watching the people watching me I saw the value in letting them see that struggle. They hung around longer to see if I could make it. They saw what the process really takes in terms of time and energy. They understood the development of the object better...both in terms of the figuring out how to make it and the physical making of it. So, while I don't recommend hiring demonstrators who aren't very good at their craft, it seems that in my situation I was able to provide good value on a number of levels. (After all, if I was really bad they wouldn't have had me back, stereotype shattering or not. I guess I can only shatter the stereotype if I can complete the task.)

I can't say enough about my feeling about working on real projects for demonstration rather than novelty items or parlour tricks...yes, they are handy to have and can be entertaining and fun. And yes, sometimes that is what you are asked to do, and if that is what you are contracted for then so be it. But showing people real work and what it entails is – in my view – incredibly important. Rather than feeding them the tv soundbite you are teaching them. If they don't want to learn they can walk away, but you are generally hired to demonstrate, not to entertain. That's what the band is for. They can't get a real appreciation for what it is you do if you don't do real things.

Among the other things I got from my experience as “the blacksmith from the Waterfront Festival” was a world of improvement. Taking on those challenges in spite of my shortcomings (pun only half intended), I learned and grew at my craft. Every year, sometime mid-afternoon Saturday someone would show up from one of the ships and ask me to make something. It was always something I had never done before. It was always something I didn't have the stock for. It was always something I didn't have the right tools for. But I have now made stuff for ships – including the infamous Bounty, which is now at the bottom of the sea and my object is an archaelogical artifact. I always managed to make it work, and they always seemed to enjoy the novelty of having something made. I also got to meet some incredible people and have some amazing experiences most people do not get (to take measurements for the shackle I “had” to go up to the top crow's nest of the Bounty. Not something many people do everyday...and the view!)

And I got practice. I got hours and hours and hours of forge time. My hammer technique improved immensely. My aim got better. My arm got better. My ability to work my way through a project got better. The truth is that any physical set of skills only gets better with practice and when you have been hired to work in a demonstration you can't help but get practice.

I also got to hone my demonstration skills, when the people were non-existent and/or not paying me any mind, and when they were fascinated. I got to find my feet, see where my comfort level is as a demonstrator, both in historic and character context and outside of it. I got to practice those skills, was forced to do so. I learned to think on my feet in a demonstration about what to do when things go wrong and when they go right. About how real the safety concerns are, what to do when someone sneaks past the ropes, how to answer questions professionally but in a way that doesn't put off the observing crowd when the answer is not what they want to hear.

I learned a lot about the history of my craft and life in general and odd specialized things in doing research to prepare – smiths who worked on ships were often pretty specialized. Most smiths could make something in a pinch but the ones who worked harbour towns, fishing towns – there was often a smithy that just did the ships and some of that history is surprising...a lot I'd never have thought to read about if not given the push. And I believe that understanding of those things makes me a better smith and a better person.

I glossed over what was perhaps the biggest thing that this experience gave me – it helped me to believe in myself. Maybe everything I do isn't a fluke or beginners luck. Maybe some of it is earned...though I still think there is a healthy sprinkling of the first two mixed in.

Back to the Beginnings...Again

Elfworks - Back to the beginnings ...again.

And so, here I am again. Many years ago, I tried to start a blog here. I found that I had nothing to say that I thought anyone wanted to hear. I wanted to keep my blog clearly business oriented and use it only as a place to post the things that were happening with Elfworks.

Clearly, I didn't much understand the nature of blogs. Just as clearly, I didn't understand, or didn't want to own up to the nature of Elfworks. I am Elfworks, and it is me. That makes it personal.

Once upon a time I used to write...a lot. I got out of the habit. Over the last few years I feel I'm being called back to it. Perhaps this is a good place to start exercising those muscles again. And maybe, just maybe I have some things to say that might be of value to people out there who are thinking of taking similar steps on their walk through life, business and the Universe. Even if their only value is for them to be read and dismissed...or perhaps they need not even be read. Perhaps the value is in the writing.

Elfworks originated, and is still run mostly as a catch-all for the overflow things I do to feed my soul and help support my living. Not all the things I do under the banner of Elfworks feed my soul...but those that don't feed my soul put food in my belly, and no one should underestimate the importance of that. A full soul and a starved body don't produce much – not for very long, anyway, except maybe really amazing dreams.

It seems that I am finally learning the things I needed to understand long ago to be better at my business. Or, beginning to learn, at the very least. Not surprisingly, I am learning through failure. And failure is generally what is needed to learn. In many of the things I've done I've had some moderate success seemingly right off the bat. Not great success, but I've managed to make things turn out, more or less, the way I had hoped they would. And when they didn't turn out the way I'd hoped, they were still not bad, just different. This has always felt like “beginners luck” to me – maybe that is why I don't produce much...trying to keep the streak of luck going...unconsciously of course.

There are always the excuses, masquerading as “reasons” and as real as they are, they are still excuses. Lacking in time, energy, money, inspiration...all real things. All real things that can be gotten around, sometimes. I kept trying to redesign my life to make more of any or all of those things, and something would always get in the way.

And the idea of settling down to one discipline has always failed me...I keep gathering skills like weavers and spinners gather wool, (and knitters, lets not forget knitters)...but I rarely sit down and put those skills to use. I don't spend enough time refining and repeating until they are truly skills and not just knowledge.

Now, this might not be the wisest thing to state in a blog about my business...but it is a true thing. It is not that I don't have the skills, but am I really as proficient with them as I ought to be? No, not yet. I am getting there, slowly – so slowly that it is sometimes painful (which becomes another excuse...I'm just no good at that”...) The only way to get good at it is to do it. Over and over. And sometimes, you fail. Sometimes things just don't turn out. Sometimes you've run out of beginners luck.

So, if you are interested, (but more for the sake of exercising muscles and using my blog space and learning how to write a blog), I will tell you some of the stories that have shaped Elfworks, and myself over the past number of years. The events of a life, an ordinary life – but the life of someone who runs a sole-proprietorship business. That makes the events of the life very much a part of the events of the business. And as much as I believe that there is more to the artist than the art, more to the worker than the work, that does not negate their close relationship and their intertwined nature. That very nature is what can make them so hard to separate so that you can be defined by more than what you produce.