Lessons from Abroad - Belgium

Yes,  this post was written some time ago - as with most of them.  Being as we are approaching Remembrance Day, it works well...lest we forget.

There and back again...and I hope the wiser for it. And of course, I had every intention of writing while I was away but it turned out the trip was packed solid. Filled with new faces, new friends (and time with valuable far off friends), new perspectives and ideas and new (and reminders of older) insights. My brain was just too full. I needed time to process it all.

So here I am having been back again for a bit – also full...and hoping to record some of those lessons and experiences and insights in a way that might be coherent if I'm lucky. With some extra luck maybe it will be helpful to some others the way it has been helpful to me.

I will deal with the places and experiences one per post or it will all get way too long.

So, one of the experiences on the list was to go to Belgium for an international Blacksmithing Event to create panels to go around the new WW1 cenotaph that was created. I thought long and hard about it and decided just to be the photographer and cheering section for my partner. Having just failed so often and so spectacularly the last thing I was ready for was to work with unfamiliar people on an international team creating a panel in two days time in front of the public. Screwing up my own work is one thing. Screwing up someone else's work, in front of the public, on a 2 day deadline? Not nearly brave enough in spite of the great opportunity it might have offered me to prove something positive to myself.

I ended up with the best of both worlds. I watched, I listened, I learned, I photographed...I got to watch tons of techniques and ideas of how to make things work. I saw some really great project design and management skills, and some not-so-great ones. I met so many people, numerous of whom are now part of my own cache of international contacts and friends. I was very kindly invited in to take part in the team my partner was on by the project leaders (Shona Johnson & Pete Hill from Ratho Byres Forge in Scotland) when they found out I was also a smith, but I declined – though I did use the opportunity to get beyond the barriers for some better photographs. So in spite of chickening out I got a lot out of it.

Seeing how Shona & Pete designed and planned the execution of their panel knowing that they were in a temporary space with unknown tools and unknown people who might have been anywhere in the spectrum from hobbyist to professional was another huge help to me. Seeing how they laid out the project, designed the individual elements and gave themselves room for change depending on how things went...it was brilliant. I learned a lot about process just from watching them execute this one piece in a complex setting. I think that when I re-do my failed chandelier I will be immensely helped by this experience.

I attended a few of the lectures offered as well. The one I found the most compelling was given by a representative from Hereford College on how they run the program and teach the students to develop a practice....this was to prove to be a theme for the trip. The way that they think about the arts in Europe is wholly different from my exposure to what we do here in North America – at least as far as I've seen. There were things I took away from that lecture that I hope will help me to develop further faster. The main thing was seeing their work studios, in which the wall are quite literally covered with their ideas so that they are surrounded by their own creative inspiration all day every day. Perhaps that is taught here in art college, but never having been a part of that world it is certainly not something I'd seen or experienced before. I know that scientists have that kind of environment – whiteboards & chalkboards everywhere...I think that taking something from that holds possibilities – for me, at least.

The lecture I'd have liked to attend but missed was from South Africa – a blacksmith shop that is wholly solar powered...admittedly not as practical here in Canada as in South Africa, but still, food for thought...

There were public demonstrations not only of the blacksmiths at work creating the panels, but also of a working Farrier - horses were brought in to be shod, some of whom had clearly never, ever been shod before - and others who were a lot more comfortable with the experience.  Watching the skill and the care with which the farrier worked was pretty amazing.    It really is separate from what we do.  And it REALLY is specialized.  Watching someone do it well is pretty amazing.

There was also a gallery of incredible international work for the event – all on the theme of the anniversary of the war – it was called Transitions – how do you move from war to peace and back again....what does it take, how do those transitions come about...it was – as blacksmiths, also about the transition of materials. Some of the pieces were truly amazing and the ideas behind them were very thought provoking.  You can see some of the work here:

http://www.yprespeacemonument.com/category/transition/

When we went to look at the gallery, we stumbled on a space that had yet another art project going on called Coming World Remember Me. The public was invited to participate and press their own moulded sculpture – made of clay that was half from Germany and half from Belgium mixed together (if I understood it correctly). They could do some minor decoration on it and each of those pieces was representative of a life lost in the war. Each participant got a "passport" with a dog tag naming a life lost in the war.

The sculptures would be installed in no man's land – 600,000 of them – along with a number of other pieces and interactive art about the war. For a better description look here:

http://www.comingworldrememberme.be/en

and here:

https://www.visitflanders.com/en/things-to-do/events/top/great-war-centenary/gonewest-coming-world-remember-me-sculptural-art-project.jsp

For 5 euros, we took part, and it was amazingly fun, moving, simple and I learned a lot about the war and the project from our facilitator. It was brilliant.

And of course, the people...there were a handful of other Canadians there, as well as people from all over the globe. Admittedly there were a LOT of participants from the UK since they were the ones who put the whole thing together, and those were a lot of the people I met and got to spend some time with, but I did meet and learn about practices and shops and schools all over, which was hugely valuable. That is about as much of that as my brain can manage for now.

Breathing

It was well beyond time for it to happen, and I am not surprised. The commission is too far overdue and has been called off. And yet, I will continue – with the piece partially assembled that is what makes the most sense. But having gained some perspective, I will breathe first. I will try to do some work at which I can feel successful. I will try to nurture the joy I remembered that I still have before I turn back to the project so that I can make it something good...something that didn't just get put together because it needed to be done.

The truth is that it also frees me up a little in terms of the parameters of the project – things we had discussed that as the project started to go sideways got lost, and then I would have to try to re-integrate although they no longer made sense. Someone who was smart and more sure of themselves would have just kept the communications open with their customer as the project progressed and discussed each of these elements.

As nice as they are I knew that I was so far behind on the project that I crawled further and further into my insecurity and the idea of communicating with the customer terrified me. Not because of them, but because of my own issues. Had I approached the project that way from day one, it likely would have gone very differently.

Among the many things I have learned from this project is that I need to be very careful of the type of commissions I take – especially at this stage in this venture. I went through a period where I had decided that I would never take a commission again because I was clearly incapable of producing one. That was a stage that lasted several weeks. Wallowing in my anger at myself, kicking myself and berating myself. Very productive. But it was a process – grieving for the image of who I thought I could be, some kind of girl hero who could do it all with ease and certainty and success. And once I was done I was able to move on more rationally.

When I went back and looked at things more rationally I understood that what I needed to do was choose my early commissions with a more realistic eye and expectation. Don't try to choose something that made me jump 15 steps further in my practice of the trade than where I was standing. Don't say yes based on the estimations of those who have been making their living doing this and only this for 10 years or more. They aren't wrong, but they see the world differently. Maybe in the first year, but by year 10 they are seeing the early years through a different lens. And they may be in a different situation. Transitioning from one career path to another, changing the balance of multiple jobs or careers is a different thing than struggling to do one thing and make ends meet. Their advice and insight is very valid, but they see things from a different perspective. And sometimes they see things as easy because of where they are in their own process. Or maybe sometimes others are just too generous in what they think I am capable of.

The first steps I need to take are to start creating a more regular practice. It is easy to say that when you have “time off” you will go out to the forge every day. Your faith in your passion says you will. But other things creep in. Life creeps in. And for me, trying to balance the shift – especially since I don't really know how this shift is really going to work...I changed so much all at once – finding any balance at all has been a huge challenge.

It has effectively taken me 2 years to get enough of my sea legs to be able to look at the world around me and get a sense of which way was up. Turns out I've been thinking down was up this whole time...so now I need to take a deep breath and realign my perspective of the world. I need to re-evaluate everything. And I've gotten this sense of the waters just as I head out to unfamiliar seas again. 6 weeks of a working trip to Europe...amazing! Yes...but also another invitation to disorientation.

Yet another round of waves to make the world askew...lets see if I can remember which way is up by holding onto the rail....

Reminders and Discoveries

So, throughout this new version of the blog I have been talking about how much you are your business and facing up to some of my failures. That is bound to continue. But yesterday, I went out to the forge and I was reminded of something. In the wake of beginning to try to chase my dream, in the face of some things coming to pass that I could not forsee which led me down the path to my goals, I have lost sight of something. I have lost sight of the love and the passion for what I do. Yesterday in the heat and the noise and working through trying to fix yet another error I checked in with myself for the first time in a long time and I found the joy again.

My head was still filled with the desire to please, the fear of failure, the proof of failure. The feeling of being lost in an unfamiliar landscape and not having a sense of direction in my new life was still there, if not so overwhelming. There was still the frustration of every stroke that was not just so, the criticism chorus running in the back of my head. The empty wasteland of this object just not looking like it had in my head, and veering farther and farther from my hopes...

But there was an undercurrent that I had stopped noticing beneath all of that at the quiet core of my being. Beyond the swearing at the scale burns and feeling sloppy because the heat made me tired before I began there was something else. When I noticed it, it helped me to keep going long after I felt I was being useful, and to get further into the project than I'd expected.

There was a deep well of calm and contentment there. There was a joy at the rhythm of the hammer that I feared I had lost. There was a quiet joy in forming the shapes from something else.

And in those moments I realized that I had not lost my love. I had not wasted time and money on tools and plugging away at something I was now afraid to do. All of this was not a mistake. All the effort that I, (and several other people!), had put in to making me a space to do this thing I love but have been avoiding – it was not a mistake.

I have been letting the fear get in the way. I have been allowing what skill I have to languish and rust. I have been avoiding something that brings me peace and contentment and joy because I have been chasing something that is not mine. I have been chasing other peoples ideas of what this is for me. I have been trailing after things I have seen others doing successfully and failing at them miserably. I should know better than this. But I forget. I get lost in the world of expectations and trapped in my own cycles of making do for fear of not doing. And the irony is, those very attempts have had me doing exactly that – Nothing.

I hang around with a lot of really amazing people who all excel at what they do. As one of them likes to point out – everyone is at one end of the bell curve, the top end. This skews my judgement, at the very least, and my expectations. It has also created a streak in which I wanted to try to “keep up with the Joneses” which is utterly unrealistic. And it has taken me away from what I do best, which is making my own path through things rather than following any of those set out by others. As skillfully as they may be laid out, I am someone who learns best by stepping off the path and poking under the undergrowth to see how life is lived there and what I can learn from it. Not that there aren't things to be learned on the path too, and sometimes they are the same lessons...but I often think I speak a different language. I don't get the nuance that leads to understanding undercurrents and big picture stuff unless I have sniffed around on my own.

So, I approached this project from entirely the wrong angle. I was trying to play a game for which I didn't know the rules or how to use the equipment. I didn't even know which field I was supposed to play on. Truth is, I think I was trying to impress people. I couldn't have failed harder at that if I'd set out to do just that.

So now, on some level, I am starting again. Oh, no – I'm not restarting the whole project, as much as I've thought of that numerous times, starting again from scratch now that I have the glass and the light. As much as I think it might yield a better result the truth is I now know it would put the project back by such a huge amount of time (because I have a slightly more realistic view of my real schedule) that it would just be the wrong thing to do. But I am starting again in terms of seeing the project through my own lens, and walking my own path to complete it. I am starting again with the comfort of having remembered that this is actually being made with love and care and as a discovery process.

I think I am starting again from the other side of the wall I built between me and it.

I do what I do because I love what I do. That has always been how I've worked, but sometimes I try to convince myself of that love rather than just reaching in and feeling it, and that tends to be when everything goes horribly wrong.

My work may or may not have merit in the wider world, but as long as it has merit to me I am doing the right thing. So here's to a new chapter of lessons born of failures as well as those born of success.

Chandelier - The Learning Curve Continues...Steeply!

Chandelier - the Learning Curve Continues...Steeply!

The continuing review of the chandelier project … so far...

My original concept was something that was not really possible with the materials I was working with. It is metal, and it was being heat formed so it isn't that it was entirely impossible...but it was pretty much impossible – particularly for the equipment, the material, the process and of course, my own skill level. Even if I could have done it it would not have looked the way I wanted it to.

So I had to re-design to make that possible. After I had forged out most of the initial pieces for the original design. Hopefully not having to start again from scratch. Hopefully being able to use at least some of the work I had already done.

Going from the feeling of euphoria over having completed the main elements of the forgework to the crushing realization that this was not going to work … well, let's just say it wasn't a good start.

Now, this is a problem that should have been easy to spot when I made my mock up. Except, I made the mock-up so that the people who commissioned this piece could see the approximate size of the piece and decide if it was what they really wanted. I didn't make it as a learning tool for myself. If I had, I would have cut the pieces to be paper templates of the forged bars. Because I wanted to be able to fold this huge thing into something more compact I ended up making the mock-up in a way that is closer to how I'm making the chandelier itself. So, I suppose it was good for helping me realize some of the ways I could potentially fix some of my errors. Had I been smart I'd have hung it up somewhere so that I could see it all the time and keep it more firmly in my brain. I suspect that would have made me think about it – unconsciously at least – and solve some of the problems more easily.

To be fair, with each of the setbacks, the last thing I wanted to think about was the project. I needed to go and lick my wounds before I could come back to it.

So, what did I want to do that was going to be so impossible?

The octagon was going to be made of eight rectangular window shapes and the bottom is an octagon with spokes meeting in the centre...somehow. The spokes were supposed to be formed from the horizontal edges of the windowframes tapered and bent underneath – all made from a continuous bar.

Anyone who knows anything about working with metal is now either laughing at me or doesn't believe I've ever done anything like this before because the errors in that idea are so glaringly obvious that they have written me off as an idiot. The idea in my head was not thought through in terms of the material when I made the design, okay? And it is my first time designing an object like this – particularly one that has a function.

So let me take you through the process and the errors and the processing of the errors inherent in just this step...This isn't exactly how the process went, but it's a fair estimate.

Let's see...8 windowpanes is 16 bars, but I want 8. Okay, but that's easy....we just join the two bars of the adjoining frames together to create, in effect, a single spoke...right? Nope. First of all, the bars are all textured and tapered by hand. This means they are not perfectly symmetrical or even in any way. So that just won't work – not without doing a lot of work to take out the texture and imperfections that I spent all that time putting in.

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly – what was I thinking?  I'm not looking to bend the bars under in a straight 90 degree that goes straight back. They have to angle in towards the centre of their windowpane – effectively the centre of the octagon. There are ways in which this could be accomodated, but no...not really. Especially not smoothly or with any semblance of elegance of form.

And with 16 bars, not only would they have to be able to have their edges match one another tightly but they would all have to be angled just so to make it work. The pieces would have to go together in a specific and precise order and placement, not quite like a jigsaw puzzle, but enough like one. In fact, it would be like a jigsaw puzzle in which the pieces were not quite cut right - or one in which they were cut freehand and not out of the same sheet of paper or card.  This is hand forged bar, not pre-fabricated and machined to precision....so yes, I'm an idiot.

Oh, and did I mention that this piece is a 3 foot diameter so each of the spokes would be 18 inches long?

Um....

So...yes. I didn't think of any of this until I had forged 16 18 inch tapers onto bars that were long enough to do the full job and textured them all, plus done the texturing on the horizontal pieces.

They looked great. I was happy. I was beyond happy...I was excited.

And then I realized my mistakes....but not all at once. Once I figured a way around one, another one would crop up. That happened over and over...and then I was, let's just call it not so happy.

And the really fun part? As I was coming up with the facts that I'd made these errors it didn't occur to me that all of this was going to change all of my measurements.

Remember that full size layout drawing I didn't do?

So yes...it just keeps getting better...or maybe worse depending on whether you are laughing at me or crying with me.....

Chandelier...Further In

Chandelier...Further In

For those of you who are just tuning in this is (in part) about my first large commission which is a 3 foot diameter octagonal chandelier.

Some of my first errors were not discovered until well into the project. I didn't know that they were my first errors at the time. In hindsight earlier realizations would have been better, but regardless they would still have been errors made and missed at the beginning.

Almost every time I realize one of these mistakes (at the moment this is still an ongoing project I am struggling with) it has thrown me into a depression. Generally I am pretty low-key and fairly calm. On this project I have thrown my hands up and cursed and had to walk away, (- and go for a looong walk-) countless times. There has been the odd mistake that has galvanized my will to solve the problem and move forward, but mostly it has gone the other way.

That has been one of the harder things for me. I try to be pretty resilient. I try to be pretty optimistic. On this project my ability to be those things has been almost non-existent. And that is important to recognize for anyone who suffers these cycles. Why has this been so difficult for me? Well, let's see...there are all those factors that I outlined briefly that life has thrown at me...all that change. That is likely a big part of it. All those things take a toll. Beyond that though, this is the challenge I've always avoided. This is me facing the thing I thought I couldn't do. And at every turn so far, it has proved me right. That is why it has been so important that I keep coming back.

Truth is, though, that courage to come back takes way more time to work up than I'd like. 

I fill those gaps with work, and with life.   Sometimes there are no gaps to be filled, there is just work, or life...

There is the original slump of depression, and the best way to shake that is to get busy. If I were more experienced, or perhaps just better I might try to shake it by getting busy with the chandelier, but I am just not that resilient.

So there are big gaps of time between each and every stage of the project. Those gaps all have reasons that sound like excuses – and they sound like excuses because I guess they are. The biggest reason that the gaps are there is because it takes me time to work up the courage to try again, and to solve the problem that I have created. 

Unfortunately, by doing that I am creating new problems. The gaps mean this project has been worked in bits and pieces, in fits and starts (literally.) Being away from the project, I lose sight of it. I forget little details. There is no flow.

Often, I forget a crucial detail that I had figured out last time I worked on it – or fix an error only to re-create it in a new and exciting way because I remember that I fixed it...and then neglect to take it into consideration for the next step.

And then there are the tangible problems to wrestle through...

There was another element that I thought would be easy that turned out to be nearly impossible – dependent on the timing. The light source. Yes, this is a chandelier and I knew it would be important (I'm not quite that daft.) What I didn't realize was that finding just the right light source to fit was going to be quite so hard. I did know what I needed and what I wanted. I didn't realize it would be so close to being unavailable or non-existent in the trends of lighting design. Particularly given the size.

When I began the project I had seen several fixtures that would have worked. By the time I got into the project none of them were on the market anymore.

The piece is a 3 foot diameter...if the light fixture is made for a normal household lighting fixture the light will all be centred around a fairly small area in the centre. This piece also needs enough light to penetrate the art glass and still give the desired amount of light, so it needs to be multiple bulbs...as close to 8 as possible since it is an octagon. Strangely this is not easy to find without paying for someone else's design or paying for an electrician to not only build the thing but then get it certified....oops.

If I ever do a lighting project again – and for all its difficulites I am intrigued to do something (smaller perhaps!) - I would buy the light fixture first and design around it. I am sure that anyone with sense would do just that...but as this is my first rodeo, it wasn't something I had thought would present quite as much of a problem as it has.

So far I have solved the fixture problem, but the at time of writing, the attachment problem is still looming before me. I'm sure there will be a lot of learning opportunities involved in that as well. I have some ideas now, but whether they will be realistic ones is entirely another matter.

Chandelier - The Preamble

 Chandelier - The Preamble...

The thing that caused me to re-start this blog in the first place is largely the same thing that started me in on the realization that writing about the depressive cycle so many of us face is part of the parcel. This business – particularly the metalworking end of it has not been a full-time venture for me so far. There are a number of reasons for that and the plain truth is that – whether I realized it or not – that depressive cycle is one of them. Time is one – I also have a longstanding career in the theatre industry....but being the theatre industry and given the area I work in, that has only very rarely provided me with full time employment. So I've filled in the gaps as something of a dog's body and girl friday...but my hope has always been that I could fill more of it in with the various facets of the creative side of Elfworks, particularly the metalworking.

As I write this I am working my way through the largest commission I have ever had, and the sheer amount of learning that has forced me into was the thrust to start writing this blog. The truth about the full impact that the depressive cycle has on me and my ability to work is one of the biggest realizations I've come to.

At the point I am writing this the project is so overdue and so different from what was in my hopes that I don't even know if the customers will still want it. But the truth is that I have to finish it if I don't want it to be the thing that stops me doing this forever.

There are so many reasons for it being overdue that come out sounding like excuses to me. Yes, it is true that I have had work contracts in my theatre job, that I moved, that I have travelled, that there has been a wave of people who have passed away – it is true that life has happened with a vengeance during this commission. It is absolutely true that I have had my life undergo change in pretty much every area of my existence and once it had turned a complete 360 it went another 190 degrees in each of the areas just for good measure. But so what? How much leeway do I get for life? Everyone has stuff happen.

Each of those things have built their own delays in to the project. And each time I came back to the project at hand those delays have caused doubt and depression and fear. Which has caused more delays.

And then there are the errors.

There are many errors – and I will try to make this as coherent as I can as I work through my meal of hunble pie...

The piece is a large octagonal chandelier, with art glass inserts (like windowpanes). And it is not going smoothly.

I'm taking a risk here...people reading this blog might well decide that if I didn't even know that much I am not the person they want to buy anything from. At this moment, I'm not sure I blame them. However, up until now most everything I have done has been more about form than function. I have not had to construct anything. My strong suit is masks and jewellery and small decorative objects. So this is a significant jump for me...from a bracelet to a 3 foot chandelier. Some of the reason I haven't done anything else like this on a smaller scale is frankly because I didn't think I could and I was too scared.

Those who know me will likely shake their heads and laugh … at me, not with me. (Trust me, I'm not even close to being able to laugh about this yet.) I may lose some respect for my sheer lack of knowledge. The people who commissioned this might well be appalled. I figure I will take my lumps. Maybe this will help someone else realize they are not alone in making a stupid mistake (or 20). Maybe someone who wants to get something made by someone will have a better understanding of the process of design and creation of what we take for granted as a simple object – which will only serve to help everyone. Maybe no one but me will read this.

Perhaps my original error was that in my excitement about the project I did not fully understand the scope of what I was undertaking and how much of a learning curve I was really facing. And for all my original work toward the design – 3 view drawings, paper mockup full size, materials list, elements list...somehow in there I failed to communicate the real concept of what my plan was to the experienced smith who was going to help me through the rough spots. Which has lead to a whole mess of problems. More on that later...

Some of the first things I ought to have done also got left until far too late in the project – of course I didn't realize it at the time.

Thing one...do a full scale layout drawing. Obvious, right? I had thought that my mock-up and my 3 view drawings would be enough. I was so very, very wrong. Particularly because of the glass. Had I started here, even given the other difficulties I would have been much further ahead. This would have given me the dimensions of the actual cut pieces of glass and I could have designed to those. I tried to work three quarters of the project the other way around. Did I mention that this is art glass? And this is a large chandelier? Nearly half the cost of the project turns out to be the glass...and it is glass. Once it is cut you can't change it. Start with the things you can't change and design around them.

And it is a chandelier. I thought it would be simple to find the light fixture that would fit into it nicely – I was sure I'd seen dozens that would work. But lighting trends change rapidly. Start with the things

can't change and design around them.

Start with the bones. Then flesh it out. You'd have thought that a make-up artist would have automatically gone to that approach....

Fortune and Folly

Fortune and Folly

I've known people who suffered so much from depression that they were unable to get out of bed some days. Thankfully, that has never been the case for me. Perhaps it is sheer force of will. I won't say I've never gone back to bed, but I can generally force myself up. And thankfully my depressive cycles have slowed dramatically. But with great highs come great lows.

I am going through a cycle of great change as I write these entries. I suspect I'm somewhere in the middle of the cycle, and it has been over 3 years now since I think it began – but then, life is change so clearly if you look at the wider view it has been much longer than that. And in the quiet moments I can't help but reflect on life – it is all part of the learning, gaining perspective on where you've been in order to go forward with a little more sense (hopefully).

There are those who see me and see someone to be admired. Someone who is stong and free spirited and unafraid of consequence. There are some who know me better than most and see a survivor. Or an idealist. There are even be some out there who – if they chose their words carefully and speak honestly, say they see me as wise. I am less certain that I am any of those things. Sometimes what they see gives me hope that they see something that could someday be true. Sometimes I think they see what they need to see and it is a great task to try to live up to their vision.

There are those who, I'm sure, look at me and see nothing but a hopeful fool who is often excited about some new thing, who is often up to her elbows in some project too advanced for her and bound to fail - again. They see someone who will never amount to much, but who is too much the fool to give up the chase. And I'm not saying that what they see is wrong. I'd be more inclined to say they were right. But to me, the important parts are in the excitement, the learning, the trying and the not giving up. More fool me, perhaps, but then it is my choice.

And I have made many choices – as we all have – in the course of my life. Some have been good, some bad. Some have been very questionable. There are choices I have made that some would see as morally bankrupt, but they may not know the whole story – we so seldom do. There are some choices that people would question my judgement on, or say I had none. There are some that have been excellent choices from the outside, but not so much the best choice from within. There are choices that never felt like choices, but in truth, they always are. And choices are the better part of what makes a life.

What on earth does this have to do with running a business? Well, everything. Because business is made up of people. This business is made up of a person, and who that person is has a very direct effect on the business. Corporations may not be quite so much the personality of their boards and head people because they are a compromise and they generally do their best to keep personality out of it. But the small business – particularly that of the self-employed artist – generally is about selling some part of your personality as much as your product. There are inevitably hundreds of others out there doing pretty much the same thing you are. What sets them apart is partially the work – if you are a maker, the work should be enough. But sometimes it just isn't. Sometimes, the deciding factor is personality. I know of many people who do impeccable work that I choose not to support. Something about them doesn't fit with me. I know many people who do beautiful work that I DO want to support (whether I can afford to or not.) In fact, I know lots of people who do work that I might like less in some cases than the work of others, but sometimes it comes down to where I want to put my money. Do I want to put it on the person who I think can grow and develop and who is passionate and really, really loves what they do? A person who may have a vision to make the world a better place? A person who (insert inspiring trait here).... Or do I want to give it to the meticulous expert craftsperson who does work that is stunning, but who has lost all the joy in what they do, or who is bitter, or whose cynicism makes me sad or who looks down on everyone around them or, or, or...

That is one of those choices that I make – and I try to be sure that I make my choices – all of them – thoughtfully. Although my choices may prove to be incorrect or not to everyone's best good, I do always try to make the choice consciously. And whether you are running a buisness or whether your contribution to business is as a consumer a little thought can go a long way. Fortune and folly are often inextricably linked and sometimes one cannot be had without the other. But if your choice is a thoughtful one, maybe if it turns out you got folly rather than fortune you can look back and see where it went wrong...what it was you missed – and your future choices will be the better for it.

Ebbs and Flows

Ebbs and Flows

The last installment of this that I wrote was long. Perhaps if I had kept up the practice of writing I'd have been better able to break it down, but it felt like all of that needed to be together. And no one who doesn't want to read it has to. I have to remind myself of that. The people who might read this are doing so because they want to, so just write.

Rather than talk about another of the many opportunities I've been given just now I want to talk a bit about ebbs and flows.

When you are self-employed in any form, but particularly in a creative medium we all know that there are ebbs and flows in everything. Work, inspiration, paycheques, loving your work, hating your work, anxiety, depression, joy, triumph, wonder...

In many ways artists relate best to other artists because of the unspoken understanding of these cycles. Not that other people can't relate to them -everyone experiences them, and everyone has just as much possibility to have their work tied into their ego and their self...sort of. There is, in my humble opinion, a difference between an accountant being tied to being able to do the best job for his client and doing a great job or letting him down vs. someone who creates a work or an object from conception to finish. Not all of us do everything we do conception to finish. There are often other hands, other voices involved. And we don't do all of it for our soul or from passion or for the greater good. But there is something undefinable about that process, something words won't catch.

You think I'm off on a tangent, but this is all part of ebbs and flows. Because those things, those objects, those moments don't come all the time. And having experienced them, their absence is palpable, their lack tastes of failure and brings out the fear that they will never grace our presence again.

Tasting moments of creation, of genius, of wonder – going to the heights shows you how deep the depths can be.

With every creative person I know their highs are soaring and their lows are suffocating – sometimes. But just because it is only sometimes does not make them less important. It makes them moreso. Everyone strives for balance. But when you sway so far from the centre the centre often feels off kilter. You spend so much time hanging off of one edge or the other that when you finally hit centre the spins don't stop. So you try to compensate and by doing so throw yourself out to the sides again. Sometimes.

It isn't so dramatic for everyone. Not always. And sometimes, it is, but you are so used to it that it is just normal. And all these things can be brought on by anything. By everything. It is feast or famine...too much or not enough. When you have time there is no money – even when you have been so careful that people think scrooge is your middle name. When you have money there is no time.

Everyone who runs a small business will run into these things, everyone who creates will run into these things. Some people deal with it by turning their back and walking away. Those I have seen do this – when it is their creativity they walk away from – typically become bitter and unhappy. Unless they find another outlet.

What is the point to this? (Other than that my ability to write also ebbs and flows?) The point, I suppose, is that you are not alone. But in knowing that there are others out there who experience these things you need to find community to help you deal with them. Your vehicle for doing so will be determined by your own patterns and choices. But do, please, find community. Troubles shared are troubles halved. The weight of the ebbs and flows – and yes, the highs are heavy too – can't you tell by how tired you are when they are over? - will be lessened if you keep in touch with people and tell them what is going on. The centre will be easier to hold if you have others helping you to balance until the world stops spinning.

The highs, the lows, the plateaus are all part of the cycle. They take a toll. They are hard. But they are natural and we all experience them. (And in truth what they bring us is so worth the cost!)

So just don't give up. And don't think you are alone.

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.