Shifting Patterns

It is now winter and I need to settle down to work – to really work on the business – the making of stuff, the promotion of stuff, hopefully even the selling of stuff. Once again, this means looking at how I do things and what will get me motivated.

Winter sets in at Wareham for another year

I've been doing lots of little bits of tidying up – clearing little annoyances off the lists to help clear a path for me to have less that can potentially “call me away” from the tasks before me. Once again, I'm studying my spaces – particularly my desk, to try to figure out what will work for me. I already know that I need to like a space to want to work there. A good space helps draw me to it, gives me an anticipation and excitement, inspires me. That doesn't mean it has to be beautiful or perfect – but it has to have an inviting energy...I guess that's the best way for me to describe it. It has to be comfortable or I will spend my time being distracted by all the things that serve as an irritation in the space.

I need too, to find my groove. I've been trying different patterns of the day to see what fits. For a while I was working on the pattern my partner uses – practical in many ways, particularly in the wintertime when it is colder. It seemed a good fit, since I have a more nocturnal habit and I prefer my waking to be a more relaxed affair.  Get up, make tea, go to the computer and start there – doing email, communications, writing and all that. Then move on to the other work – the making and doing late morning or after lunch, depending on how much time the computer work took.

I've been trying to make that pattern work for quite a while now, because it is good logically. I'm finally admitting that it does not work for me. I get onto the computer and I get lost. I lose my drive, I lose my creativity, I lose my will. I find it draining.

The computer is something that I find useful, but I've never become enamoured with digital tools. When I am brutally honest, I kind of hate most computer work. It is okay for writing, and some of the stuff can be interesting for a short while. Figuring out how a program works and what it can do for you, the ability to do print work and manipulate photographs for use can be interesting. It doesn't hold me though, and it carries as much frustration as it does interest. There is too much relying on something I only vaguely understand for me. And it is constantly changing, not just the how but the rules and the speed and the capacity. There is too much time wasted on things that are "necessary evils,"(no offense meant to all the computer oriented people out there.

I've also done enough time working in offices where the computer was where I was stuck all day (or all night) that it has always represented work for me, and not my favourite work by any means. I know just enough about them that certain things are very easy for me, and I type well enough that they are an incredibly useful tool. I know just little enough about them that I find them frustrating and often arbitrary, temperamental and sometimes vindictive toward me. They have been known to inexplicably cut me off from what feels like lifetimes of work with no recourse. I can see the file, but I can't open the file – or some such madness. The computer and I are not best friends.

My desk is nice and close to the stove.

I still like handwriting things, stories, poems, letters. I type faster than I write, but I like the feel of writing. When I read, I take notes by hand – the act of writing the notes out helps me to cement the knowledge in my brain. I have noticed that the more time I spend on a computer the less I am able to remember things I know that I know. And I can tell that the increased screen time is beginning to mess with my eyes – and as a wigmaker particularly, my eyesight is something that is very dear to me.

So I am trying new patterns. Read first thing in the morning – whether for work or pleasure. Come to the computer at lunchtime or thereabouts....and limit it to lunchtime, then another quick shot at the end of the day just before dinner. Take days off, entirely, from it...something I used to do with regularity and do rarely in recent months. Ideally I will start with a walk in the morning – or most mornings. Or stretching at least – something active rather than sedentary. The computer may get relegated entirely to just before dinner, at least some days. I know there will be days, if I am to manage to survive, that will have to be all computer – the digital world will demand it. But I can hope that they will be strategic, rather than habit.

There will be lots of patterns tried and tossed, I'm sure, before I find the one that works here, in this space and time. I am just glad that I've stopped following blindly based on habit and trying to convince myself that I can make something so unsuited to me work.  With every step, I learn - (or I hope I do.)  There is lots of winter left.  Come spring, patterns will shift again.

Observing from the Sidelines

The earlier version of my forge space here at Wareham.  Photo by KPS

 

Some days are infinitely frustrating. I think I am just beginning to get down to it, starting to be able to dig in and do what I am “supposed” to be doing...and sproing! Suddenly I'm hijacked. My attention, my emotion, my focus shattered – the intercom of life buzzes and prompts me to drop what I'm doing and change direction immediately.

At the heart of it, the problem is not the inevitable sproing! The problem is my willingness to be hijacked. My belief that what I'm doing is not as important as whatever the interruption is. My lack of faith in the fact that this work deserves my undivided attention and is vital to me. It is the idea that giving focus and time to the creation is an aside, meant to be done on stolen time.

This is nothing new, and nothing I haven't addressed before. Everyone who runs a small business, or creates art, or works from home (a lot more of us in these days of pandemic) or is self-employed or.... Let's just say that many people face their own version of this countless times a day, every day. The circumstances will change, but the core problem is the same.

Perhaps, though, if each time we face it we choose to recognize it for what it is, if we choose to mark it rather than letting it sneak by, we will begin to change the pattern. The sooner we see it for what it is, the more likely we are to be able to say, “no, that is something I can deal with later” and shift our focus back to where we were and what we were doing.

Somehow, a guaranteed paycheque allows us to do this when we are “at work”...at least it does for me. So perhaps part of the problem is the value I place on the financial reward vs. the more intangible rewards. Not surprisingly it seems that once again, it is a problem of perception.

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.