Internal Structures

 

Ah! The joys of life....In the early hours of the morning after a second relatively sleepless night, my brain churning through everything that is going on, intellectually I have decided something that I hope I can follow through on. Amidst the chaos of everything else it occurs to me that one of the things my sketchbook and my various notebooks are filled with are ideas for tools. Tools that I need to make so I can make the things I want to make. I know that a big part of my problem is that when I have an idea I find a way to muddle through with what is at hand. My time has always been so limited that when faced with the “make the tool to make the thing” or “make the thing” dilemma, I default to the latter.

Inevitably I am not happy with the results because I rushed it and shortcut the job because I didn't make the tool. There is also a lot of stuff I've never bothered to make because I don't have the “thing”. The making of the tool, for me, will also be part of the process of running how to do the project through my head. Taking the flash of inspiration through at least some of the creation steps mentally. Letting my hands work out what will be required.

Feeling rushed is another aspect of this – knowing that had a set amount of time before I ran out of time to work on it with uninterrupted flow is how it started. I think over the years it has developed into an impatience – a sense that I don't have the time to just do the work. This has been compounded by the inconsistency with which, and limited time that I've been able to give to really building the skills I want to develop. In turn, of course, this results in frustration and dissatisfaction with the work I produce – knowing I should be better, the work should be better – and the more time passes the older I get and the shorter the window for improving those skills.

Photo by Travis Sweet

In trying to work through the failure of a piece as I lay staring at the darkness, the remembrance of some of those sketches of tools I thought it would be good to make began to blossom at the back of my mind. They've been there, in the shadows for the last few weeks, whispering to me. More of them have presented themselves with this project. And suddenly it occurred to me that I should make a commitment to myself to take time over the next 3 months and start to make the tools. Some of them can be made inside (I'll try to keep those for the really cold days) – some will require some time at the forge – some are forging projects in and of themselves. I had wanted to run through a bunch of basics – I still do – to restart my skill building so, perhaps for some of them I can combine the two.

 I'm deciding to go back to the start as I fine tune the work I'm doing setting up spaces – do all the types of work I've shied away from because I didn't have the time to dedicate, and I knew I was rusty. Remember the techniques I learned because I knew I could combine them with things in interesting ways, and take the time to practice. Make, but make for the making. 

Over the years I've lost sight of the way to reach the places I want to get to – I guess in many ways I've mistaken my finger for the moon, as the zen koan goes. Maybe in going back to the beginnings I will remember how to get lost in the work.   If I want to reach the stars, it seems I've just remembered that I have to build the shuttle.

Thoughts About Patron"s regarding the Art/Work Lecture by Cheryl Baxter

Once again, this is a late post.  I wrote it a couple of weeks ago after I had watched the lecture, and then have not gotten to posting.   

For those who have watched the presentation I posted  (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=twM-g63oOmM) – part of the Art:Work series out of AACLethbridge in Alberta that was posted on youtube - there are several points that really piqued my interest and I'd like to explore. If the link doesn't work you can go to youtube and search Cheryl Baxter Art/Work lecture and it will come up part way down the page.

This is mostly a thought exercise – my brain's way of expanding on things that it wants to ruminate on. I felt that the lecture had a lot to offer in terms of how I think about my art and my business, and to some extent my identity which is all tied up in the other two. Since this blog has become largely about those things I felt that this would be as good a place as any to offer up some of these ideas for the mysterious others who actually read this thing to think about as well.

I felt that the lecture was pretty comprehensive and covered a fair bit of ground in the allotted time. One of the things that struck me was Ms. Baxter's observations and the interpretations that followed. For the most part I felt that what was said was clear and largely correct in my own experience. One of the things I liked best about the presentation was that it made me think. It engaged me, and engaged my brain and caused me to think about my business, my art and myself.

However, I noted a difference of my own opinion when it comes to defining a patron – or perhaps difference is too strong a word. Personally I think there is more than one “class” of patron. That is where the difference in opinion stems from, and it is likely largely due to the types of experiences we have had in dealing with the public. Of course, it may also be that what I feel is a different “class” of patron just carries a different definition for the speaker, or perhaps it was just generalization and broad strokes in the interest of time and information being put forward.

I absolutely agree with the classic definition of a patron in the way in which it was presented. For those of you who have not watched the lecture, it was along the lines of a person who has no (or very few) financial, educational or time confines which might inhibit their participation in support of the arts, and of artists. (Hopefully that is not taking Cheryl Baxter's definition out of context – it is my interpretation of the gist of what the definition that was presented was.)

However, I feel that there is another type of patron – or what I consider to be a patron. I like to think of them as grassroots patrons. People who have some – often many – financial constraints which offer considerable difficulty in participation of support of art and artists, and yet they do it anyway. People who are so engaged by the artist or their work that they save for a piece, or they forgo something else for possession of a piece that speaks to them – or for a piece from a certain individual. These are people who search for opportunities to support individuals in spite of everything in their lives that speak against it. Perhaps patron really isn't the right term for them in any context. 

The connection between patron and patronizing was not lost on me, and I think that Ms. Baxter's mention of the point and the complexity of the relationship between patron and artist is a very important one. So maybe it is my phrasing that needs to be adjusted. But what to call them then? The theatrical term of “angel” springs to mind, certainly. And given my connections to the theatre world it might be appropriate. There are, however, people in my own personal circles who I'm beginning to think of as my own grassroots patrons who I suspect would take great exception to being called an angel. (Yes, Doc, I mean you.)

Definately food for thought.

Shop Renovation 2020 Project Part 2 – Walls and Windows and Floors oh my!

 

Okay, I wrote this post months ago, and took the photos - it was one of those 5am writing things.  And then I have let it sit, unpublished for far too long.  

The world is an upside down place these days and I'm struggling to make myself do the things I want to do.  I love making for Elfworks, but I'm lousy at the marketing and promo stuff.  Lately I've even been lousy at the making.  But I'm still here, and here is some kind of update on what's been happening over the past months.... 

Yes, here it is months later and I've written nothing more about my Very Exciting Shop Renovation. I confess, I've had my hands firmly in the dirt trying to grow things, and lay groundwork for other projects for almost all the intervening time. In my defense, this is all part of the larger Elfworks picture, but has not gotten me far in the shop.

I mentioned that my partner Darrell had done all the actual building of the space. While it is hard for me to let go, it was a wise decision. He is a much better builder than I am, and has a lot more experience. The result being that my shop is very awesome. Not fancy, not shiny, but awesome. Much of the wood that was used was recycled from other projects, so it is a patchwork in many ways, but that had its advantages too (besides lowering the cost.)

Darrell started by framing in the walls, then the floor. The floorboards were laid, but not attached while he worked on walls and insulation and wiring (yes, that's right, insulation!!) The ceiling was framed in – we are dropping the ceiling to make it easier to heat...not like I need head room! The window on the northwest wall was framed in – positioned to allow light in from the window in the outside wall of the building. And then it got even more exciting.

Once the walls were up, the floor got finished – Darrell put a little bit of insulation under the floor and the boards got screwed down. The larger pieces had been loosely placed on the boards for layout and positioning and got moved back into their homes. I made measurements and did chalkmark layout of the rest of the space.

We had talked about bench space, something I've never had much of with the result of always having to shift tools and projects, well, off of other tools and projects frankly. Never having had it, I wasn't sure how much of it I would need. I listened to the voice of experience, and opted for more rather than less. There was a scrounged steel counter that was laying around, but when I looked at it it seemed extremely imposing and space consuming. I mentioned that I am small, looking at the counter what I saw was wasted space where I would inevitably pile things and continue my bad habits.

Solution? Rip it in half and make 2 narrow sections rather than 2 large sections. I love that we are metal people. Deciding on its height was also a big challenge. I am so used to having everything the wrong size that this was a big learning curve. Once the height was settled, sturdy framing set it firmly in place, and a leg vise, appropriately adjusted for height, was attached. (The attachment bracket of the leg vise was a partial decider on the height.)

 

 

I went outside one day and found Darrell atop a ladder, pulling boards from the outside of the building. One of the things we had talked about was light – natural light. While it is true that natural light can be difficult in a smith's shop – the colours always changing depending on how the light falls, I knew I needed it. I find it too hard to work in a dark space and light where there are no windows is always somehow, inadequate (for me.)

 

  Solution? The original solution was that window I talked about on the north wall. On further discussion, Darrell suggested we could put windows on the top of the south wall of the building and put a clear panel into my ceiling to allow for more light.

 Again, there were a number of scrounged windows waiting for use, so they got put into play. While it was a big job, I cannot tell you the difference it has made, not just in my shop but in the shop as a whole.

 Suddenly the world is lit up with those 2 windows in that wall. And my shop in particular practically gleams when you enter. Although we did install a ceiling fan overhead light, as well as making provisions for other lights where needed, during the day they have become almost redundant. Suddenly the shop that was already so exciting became a real joy. Working there will be an easy task, and I know that I can adjust to changing light, though there will be some tasks that will be more challenging with it.

 

 

 

The boards for the walls were chosen and placed with thought to texture (or lack thereof.) This meant that I could turn one full panel and one of the panels above my fantastic new benches into chalkboard. They are already covered in lists of “to do” - largely custom hooks to give my stakes permanent storage places under my benches...off the floor.

The wheeled metal frame that used to hold my propane forge was customized and given new life as a stand for my swage block and bench plate. The casters allow me to leave it stored against the wall or move it into closer proximity to the forge on my lovely wooden floor.

The propane forge now sits on a plate covering the firebox of the coal forge – allowing for me to switch to coal on larger or more curved objects (though the ventilation is not in yet.) The coal forge – a portable table style sits atop a metal plate, which gives me extra space for cooling pieces, still on the floor as is my longtime habit, but well out of the way of my feet.

The forge itself is positioned so that I can either use my anvil, my leg vise or step down and use my BAAT Hammer with ease. It will take a bit of getting used to that it isn't in the corner, but the placement is much better, especially with the changes in equipment.

An old freestanding wire basket style shelf has been repurposed as my hammer rack, also holding many spare sets of tongs and a few other pieces, nestled in the corner where my forge used to be. And steel is now stored in a rack on the west wall, neatly sorted (well, mostly) rather than a mass of buckets with random odds everywhere. Longer pieces are stored just outside the new shop space against a wall. Everything is safely chained off – and I can actually see what stock I have. Not surprisingly I have more than I realized. And now I'll be able to find it rather than assuming I don't have any and buying more. It will also serve as a reminder of the projects I'm supposed to be doing...things I bought stock for, stored it and then forgot about it, project and all.

There are still things to be done – a stack for the woodstove has to be installed, ventilation for the coal forge put in, doors to the space to be built an attached, but the place is a joy to work in. I haven't gotten very far just yet. There is a lot of new to get used to, everything has new homes – shelves and racks and a level of organization that will take some fine tuning and a lot more familiarity before it achieves the efficiency it promises. And I have been mostly trying to “make hay while the sun shines” and all that...true enough.

But I can tell you that I've had inspiration for 3 new large projects since this adventure began – larger than any of the things I've attempted yet. This is a space where I can see things happening, and keep track of what I'm doing. Not that the previous spaces were to blame for that lack – that was all on me. This space though, and the time ahead where I am here and not travelling to and fro to that other life that is on hold for the forseeable future...well, I have much hope for the undertaking of great adventures.

Stumbling Forward

So here we are in July. My shop reno is pretty close to finished – exhaust system and doors are nearly all that is left. And we are a semblance of lockdown in most places – (we are remaining locked down up here for the forseeable future). So I have all this time...why haven't I been posting? Why don't I have a ton of new work?

Well, while I haven't done anything much that you can actually see I have been working – on another aspect of the business more than in or on the shop. I am rarely ever home for any length of time at the period between March and July. So I took the time to do some serious work in the yard. Something I am considering an investment in the future. I have a vague plan of what I want this space to become that will become a part of some of the classes I want to teach from here. My own version of a food forest – food & medicinals and other plants that I use for various projects or just because they are great. Normally by the time I'm home the heat is getting way out of hand and the labour it takes to put a plant in here … well, not much gets done in the hot months. (Digging here is challenging – between the twitch grass and the rocks...let's just say we don't usually dig with a shovel, we dig with a big steel stick.) So I've been focused on trying to get a big swath of work done on that front.

 

Now that the we are into the stupid hot months, I'm hoping to shift focus and round things out a bit more. I'll still be working on the yard – lots of big projects and more digging to do yet, but I'll be limiting it to the earlier parts of the mornings. I managed to get my garden in before mid-July – with some starters plants from The Red Brick House (https://www.theredbrickhouse.ca/) as well as some seedlings I started on my own. I have a ton of plants still to get into the ground, (just picked up a bunch of new and exciting stuff from Fiddlehead Nursery http://fiddleheadnursery.ca/) and there are still trees to go in next year, but I think some progress has been made, even if it isn't really visible yet.
A few years ago I had started to do the prep work for a second blog that covered everything that didn't quite feel justified or appropriate for the Elfworks Studios blog. With all the time I've been spending digging and playing in the dirt, the other thing that should appear this summer sometime is the first installment of Adventures with Time In a Space – for those of you who choose to follow my journeys.

I have really been enjoying my time in the garden and I'm finding it hard to pull myself away – especially considering everything that is still on the list. I know the upcoming weather will make it easier on me – forcing me into the cooler spaces like my shop and studio. So, with a little luck and a lot of discipline I hope to have some new things to report in the upcoming weeks.

On the bright side – maybe I've finally managed a short(er?) blog post.  Maybe I should always write at 5 am?

Shop Renovation 2020 Project Part 1 – Laying the Groundwork.

Yes, my shop is being reworked yet again. For those of you who know me it may seem like I spend more time reorganizing my spaces than working in them. And that is a fair judgement. Some of that is because I face very specific challenges in any workshop. For those of you who don't know me, I'm small. My partner likes to describe me as “all of five foot nothing” but he is being generous. By several inches. I don't know my exact height out of spite. It is the question I am asked most often bar none “How tall are you?” I am slightly taller (maybe a quarter of an inch) than my mother ever got to. But she carried herself better. I am somewhere just under 4'10” ish. I think. But I know I don't reach the lofty height of 5'.

So yes, nothing is the right size for me. And it makes it harder than I realize. I have always just adapted, no big deal. Except that it turns out it is a huge deal sometimes. The first time my partner saw me work he was amazed that I managed to get anything done at all. By that time I'd been smithing a few years and had my own setup for a couple of years at least. It was all stuff I'd managed to procure with the help of friends, and cobbled together in my city backyard. I'd adjusted what I could, but I didn't have a chainsaw and wasn't going to buy one just to cut down the stump my anvil sat on. I dug stuff in a bit where I could, and it seemed to work alright.

My partner, Darrell Markewitz, is an excellent teacher for all things smithing and history – particularly of iron and Viking Age, and iron smelting / experimental archaeology - especially as it relates to the Viking Age. He is one of a small handfuls of teachers I would recommend if you are interested in Blacksmithing – and he, in particular tends to focus on body dynamics as it suits the individual. He is not a great bear of a man himself, though he is tall (especially compared to me). He was constantly told he could not do this because his build was too light. Long after many larger smiths had dropped out due to injury he is still going. He has figured out a thing or two.

Needless to say, when he first saw me working he was (slightly?) appalled. I scoffed a bit and said it was fine. Not just a bit of my attitude comes from trying to prove that I can carry my weight, and yours (once upon a time, literally) in spite of my size.

When we (many years after we initially met – probably more than a decade?) ended up together and I ended up moving here to Wareham, he was determined that my shop would fit me better. So that was one thing. And it did. It fit me better than it ever had before. But I knew that I still didn't know enough to know what I wanted it to be. 

 How I was really going to work in the space. What I really needed rather than just thought I wanted. So it has remained a semi-permanent space that is somewhat less cobbled together. I argued to keep the dirt floor that I had so carefully dug all those damn rocks out of (though inevitably more appeared with the frost heave, but less, and much slower.) It was a better fire retardant, I didn't have to worry about dropping things on the floor or things cooling on the floor. I could dig things in a bit, mold the floor a bit, change things with ease.

All those points were true. I have now opted for a wooden floor, level, predictable, less inviting to the cat and other wildlife. I suspect it will be a bit warmer (a very tiny bit). Also easier to move heavy equipment over without a corner suddenly digging in, or a rock saying hello. Also better for keeping the equipment that is not in constant use (like my awesome stakes) in better condition because even if it is on the floor it is not in the dirt and significantly less damp.

As I mentioned, when I initially moved in in 2014, (or sometime shortly after I moved in) before any of the equipment went in, I dug into the floor somewhere between 18-24 inches removing all the significant rocks I could find. Many of these were a tad large (like the size of a milk crate) and there were even more that were head sized (mine), fist sized (not mine), and a lot of large pebbles, with even more small pebbles. I did what I could to tamp all the dirt back down and level it, but you can imagine that with my great weight that wasn't the best of jobs. In the intervening years the floor has decided on its own unique character, changing every year, or every month, or every day. Equipment that was leveled on bricks and blocks and such has slowly sunk, inevitably crookedly, and in need of constant readjustment. So, I changed my mind about the floor. And that was the 2^nd of the big undertakings of this shop renovation. (Well, truth be told, he did the framework for the walls before he started the floor, but that was a bit less of a big deal apparently.)

The first? Emptying the shop of all that equipment and stock. I am very grateful to Darrell for undertaking this while I was still working over the winter. His argument was that he had to do it a) because he is bigger than me and b) he needed it to get moved in such a way that he could still get at everything he needed to elsewhere in the shop. I am somewhat ashamed to say I didn't put up much of an argument.

Incidentally, Darrell has undertaken pretty much all of the construction work with some minor help from me. (For example, I helped to level the dirt floor again for the stringers that run under the floor.) His argument (again?) - He is taller than me. It is, I am slowly being forced to admit, a valid argument. I am learning, after decades of being on my own and making do, that my size does actually sometimes make things harder. I am learning to accept help without it feeling like I have to do it just to prove I can. And I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to struggle less. Maybe that is the real first big job, but that one is mine alone.

Discipline and Self-Care in an Extended Period of Self-Isolation

So, here we are...here I am. I try very hard to limit my exposure to the news and social media – particularly during times of crisis. I get overwhelmed much too easily. Dragged into the mire and the muck of everything I can't control, or change or help. We are into a time of pandemic – but it is a time when there is a global tint to everything...for good, or for ill, we know more now about what goes on across the world than we ever have.

My theatre contract got cancelled on the 13^th of March, so we are a little more than a month into the self-isolation routine. In all honesty, in many ways this is barely a blip in our routine. And yet. There is a profound difference to it, even so. It brings challenges even to us in so very many ways. And not unlike everyone else, it messes with our heads.

Living rurally, we generally keep a good stock of supplies, and often don't leave the property for about 10 days at a time – typically by that time we need more cream, or milk, or cat food (or for me, more mushrooms.) So for us to extend that to leaving only once every fourteen days or more is not such a hardship. Our incomes are usually low, so our expenses are low – we work hard to keep them that way. We are not used to going out for our entertainment. We don't tend to go out much at all. We read a lot, and our artistic work tends to keep us busy. When we can we do repairs on our home or work on the yard – which we do ourselves. For me, I am happy to be quiet when I get to be home – I get more than my fill of socializing during my theatre work periods, and staying home is a welcome gift.

However, it is different when it is not a choice. While we are much better equipped mentally, emotionally, and in terms of habits and preparation to deal with this than the average city dweller, it still takes a toll. I honestly feel very much for those who have been pushed into this situation with little preparation. I feel for all of you, with all of your varied challenges and reasons why this is an (almost, I hope only almost) unbearable situation for you. If it takes a toll on us, it must be hellish for some of you. Not just the enforced changes, but the playing up of all the fears and doubts that we try to drown with our routines and our habits and our busy-ness and our noise.

For the first two weeks of the month that I've been home I stayed very busy. I was finishing up an online course I'd been taking. I got the corner where the bookcases are painted, and we installed the new heater. Along with that I rearranged the books on those two shelves and got a lot of material scanned and input into our personal library. I got a bunch of house stuff done that had been waiting for too long. I was working on updating my website (still am), and moving it to a Canadian provider. We were working on my forge space in the shop, which we are building into a more permanent and better set up space. Lots to do – there is always lots to do.

Since that two week period things have slowed down. While I've felt since the initial announcement that this was likely to go at very least into the fall, if not into next year, that first two week period was filled with a sense of urgency. As if I had to get it done, it could be a mistake. I could be called back to work at anytime. What if my next contract actually went ahead? (They went down to the wire before they decided to pull the plug on the next contract I had.) But now, well, now this is the norm for the long haul. That doesn't really distress me, for the most part. There will certainly be challenges, and worries and problems. I know that for many it is a source of extreme uncertainty and distress. Again, I feel for you, and I know how lucky I am in all this.

It has, however, begun to sink in. Staying disciplined is hard. Motivation is hard. The stuff that messes with your head is hard. A lot of people I know – a lot of self-employed artists and others are having a hard time working with the time that they have. The feeling for many is “what's the point?” No one will have any disposable income. Festivals and shows are cancelled. Why make stuff just to have stuff? There are no deadlines, no goals, no sense of urgency.

Some of that has permeated here too. One of my goals this year is to be making at least 3 days a week, whenever possible. Well, now I have the time to make that a habit. To meet that goal. I can't say I'm doing very well with it. I have been trying to give myself some leeway with that. Making can include writing, baking – any out of the norm, ambitious undertaking. Making dinner doesn't count, but in the beginning, making muffins might. I hope to work up to it gradually, this new habit. Even with that leeway, I don't think I've managed 3 days any week except this one. But I forgive myself. And I will keep trying, keep working toward it. And keep forgiving myself for my failings. This is a strange new world (well, every day is a strange new world, but admittedly, this period is stranger than most.) The landscapes shift every day...sometimes more than once per day.

The weather, of course, hasn't helped. In the last week we've had snow all but two days. Now, that is not unheard of up here, even for the middle of April. And I love winter. However, I am ready for it to move on. Snow in the middle of April is not inspiring. It doesn't make me want to work. It doesn't make me want to do anything other than sit by the fire where it is relatively warm. So, I try to have patience with myself for that.

Said weather has pretty much put a hold on the work toward my new shop. It is getting close to the infrastructure being done, but when it is cold and snowy in April, we just don't want to work out there. Now, that is not sensible. Neither the temperatures, nor the conditions are much different than they were in mid to late March. And yet. The fact that it is April now and it is dragging on is what is stopping it (mostly. There are also other things that need to get done...)

So, the point of this post is to remind myself, and anyone who might be choosing to read it that discipline is a practice. When you don't do the thing, look at what happened, what threw you off course, forgive yourself and try again.

The realization that it is okay not to be a superhero is part of the self-care. The knowledge that this is hard and whatever you do or don't do, don't dwell on it, and don't beat yourself up for it, is also self-care. Allowing for rest, replenishment and relaxation that you don't usually get is self-care. It is a lot of hard work, and a lot of scary work to process the fears that this situation brings up for most people. And the changes. Just because it is internal work doesn't mean it isn't exhausting, or any less valuable for being invisible to the naked eye. We all need to allow ourselves room to just be for a bit. It will be a process....as all of life is. But in the quiet it is magnified. So when you need to back away for a little while, allow yourself that respite. Do what you can, that is all we can ask of ourselves.

I believe that for all those self-employed artists who are struggling to keep working in this time of weirdness, that they need to have patience with themselves. Whatever it is that you do, somewhere down the line you will remember that “the point” is that you can't not create. Your need to create will overwhelm the apathy some days, and you can seize those moments and build on them. We all can, whatever our calling is.

Scattered vs. Scope

For the most part, I've been trying to keep the main focus of this blog on the metalwork and jewellery that Elfworks does. I've been thinking about that lately. With the limited amount of time I get to spend making such things, it leaves me, sometimes, with even less to write about.

While I do want that to be the main focus of the blog, and really, the main focus of what Elfworks is known for...there are so many other aspects to Elfworks. And in truth, Elfworks is me...and there is so much more to what I do under the banner – so should I really keep it limited? Where do you draw the line between scope and scattered?

I've had lots of advice over the years about keeping focused – in the blog, in my writing, in my work...and it is all good advice. But I will never be about just one thing. Elfworks will never be about just one thing. True, it's main function is metalwork and jewellery. But it is also wands and ink. It is wig building, and facial hair building and rentals. It is theatrical and photographic makeup. It is historical research and inspiration. It has been bookkeeping, and organization, and general Girl Friday services. It is becoming workshop courses (yes, they are coming...slowly.) It is becoming permaculture and all kinds of things plant. It will be incorporating ceramics into the folds and layers of it. It has overtones and undercurrents of my spiritual pathways and my fascinations with myth, literature and nature. It may well come to encompass the Thanatology services I'm working my way towards.

Yes, that is scattered...and yet, there are threads that tie them all together. The main thread being me. So...my current questioning to myself – do I keep it focused solely on what Elfworks produces as metalwork and jewellery and the processes that take me there? Or do I allow it the scope of much more of what I do? If so, how much scope do I allow so that it doesn't become scattered? Just where is that metaphorical line, and will I know if I've crossed it?

Practice, in practice

One of my greatest challenges is practice.

There is so much I want to do. So many ideas I want to explore. So many inspirations I want to capture. But quite often my ideas are most ripe when I am not in a position to act on them. Then I get the time to go to my studio and I can't capture it – or sometimes I can't even remember it in spite of the notes and the scribble drawings. I can't remember quite what the “how” was.

And then there is the frustration of lack of practice. I know what I want to make, but my skills are not quite there yet. I can make a thing, but it doesn't come out right. I haven't quite got it. Simple, right? Try again. Practice.

This can be more challenging to follow through on – you look at the product of your efforts and can't see your way to the thing that was in your head. It is discouraging. You lose faith that the thing that is in your head can ever come out of your hands. It is hard not to see the materials as wasted. Hard not to see the time spent as fruitless.

This has always been a challenge...there is nothing new here. It is something we all have to face, and if we want to succeed we have to choose to overcome.

The way I work often makes it particularly challenging – I don't generally do layout drawings or plans, or step-by-step outlines. Probably I should. And sometimes it is something I don't do consciously, but I certainly do. For example, if I am making something more mundane, like tent pegs I know my order of operations. I had to learn it, but having that information leads to greater success in such items. The first time, when I'm figuring it out I will usually write it down – make notes. Often, half way through the process I'll realize that it would have been easier if I'd done C before I did A. So, I make the note, so that I remember next time.

But what about the more artistic things? When I'm at the forge I often just have an idea of the thing I want to make, and start to work. Particularly if it is something like a mask or a pendant I have a thought about proportions and then I just follow the metal where it leads me. But unconsciously I've developed something of an order of operations for that. If I'm trying for a different effect I may try switching it up to see where the new perspective will take me. All of that came through practice. Through doing it.

I may not have been very pleased with my first result, but I learned from it – both my brain and my hands learned. It is crucial to remember that. And remembering that is hard. Giving that the credence it deserves is even harder.

One of the best ways I've found to remind myself is in drawing. I am by no means good at making drawings. My attempts at technical drawing are even worse than my attempts at artistic rendering. However, there are some things that I have to draw first. If I am doing a pewter pattern I have to sketch it first. If I can't draw it, I can't carve it. That is how I see it....that isn't something that would hold true for everyone. If I can draw it, then I can carve it (at least most of the time. I've had more than a few failures.) I also have to be able to draw it to the approximate scale I need it to be – and that has shelved more than one project!

For a lot of things it is still 1 in 10 – out of 10 attempts there is 1 that is reasonable. I have improved with some things – there are some things that I might get 1 for every 3. What is nice is seeing the progress – flipping through a sketchbook and seeing where the successful bits are – seeing how much better some sketches get.

There are still a lot of things – like my current work on a sketch for a pewter – where I will make 20 or 30 renderings and not one of them is right. There will be elements of this one or that one that are not bad, but trying to pull those elements and make them work in another sketch, and getting the rest of the elements correct...well, those are the times where you have to have a real passion, or a real reason to keep going.

The thing that is harder (for me) is doing that with the ones that take a lot more materials, time and energy than the sketches. It's not giving up and writing myself off, but trying it again. And again, and again. With the more mundane stuff, it isn't so hard. With the more creative stuff it can be hard not to lose sight of that original inspiration. Looking at what you made can make it hard to see what that original thing in your head actually looked like. And the more time between attempts, the harder it can be to see.

So one of the big things on the calendar for this year for me is the practice of practice. Doing the work in spite of not being able to see the forest for the trees anymore. Learning how to step back and close my eyes before I try for another look, another view, another perspective. And more practice.