Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

I started this as part of what I was writing about the metal items my grandfather made, but I discovered I had more to say about metal today than I'd thought, so it grew into its own entry.

As a child, at some point when I realized the significance of "Granddad made these", I decided that I wanted to learn how to do sand casting. I don't think it was the beautiful silver candlesticks we used for holiday meals that got my attention -- the geometric shapes didn't register somehow as art, despite their elegant beauty -- so it was probably the fly, a cast iron housefly with wings that lifted up, which I thought was an odd covered ashtray until someone eventually explained it was supposed to be a doorknocker, which made such a great fidget-toy for all of us kids (in its usual spot on an end-table) when we went to visit our grandparents ... it was probably that fly that made me realize such things don't just come from museums and stores and catalogs, but that my granddad made this ... nifty thing.

So I wanted to learn to make nifty-things. And I wanted him to teach me. But I never got around to trying to assemble the tools and materials and coax him to show me. Someday, I'm sure, I'll learn on my own, and I'll be proud of that, and I'll feel a connection to him as a result of it, but it would've been a very powerful thing to have learned it from him. (It also would've been significant to perform with my father, but I was never able to convince him to pick up the trombone again after I'd gotten good enough on guitar to daydream of such an event. But maybe, just maybe, someday I'll get to share a stage with my brother.)

And I have learned to make some kinds of niftythings, including some in metal, despite frequent repetition of the "you have no artistic talent", "you have no appreciation for beauty", and "you can't be an artist because you're a scientist" messages that I got along the way. So far what I do in metal is to carve it. To cut it, drill it, occasionally solder it, sometimes etch it, but largely to carve it (with the aid of motorized tools). And I feel that I have not yet explored all of the carving-brass concept that I want to, so I'm not tired of that or finished with it ... but holding this small brass crocodile reminds me that despite my interest in carving metal, sooner or later I should get around to that old interest in casting it, as well.

I've been interested in carving stone and wood, as well, but haven't felt comfortable attempting those for some reason. I did try whittling in middle school (back when one could carry a hunting knife to school -- and innocently!), but never felt like I could make the knife or the wood do quite what I wanted. And stone, well stone just kind of scares me. A slip, and a chunk of stone that I was going to need falls off. I'll need to get past my fear of stone and try my hand at it one day anyhow. But there's something ... something special, something comforting, something, solid in a different way than stone is solid, about metal. I'm drawn to it. (I like chains better than rope for bondage, too, for similar reasons -- rope is more comfortable and easier to work with, but chain has all that sound and psychology of the metal working for it.) So I etch, and I engrave, and I cut, and I solder (not as well as I'd like, but I manage), and I'm about to learn to carve three dimensional shapes out of chunks instead of flat shapes out of sheets, and I've always wanted to learn how to weld. And when I get my confidence up as an artist, it'll be time to learn to cast metal.

People do occasionally ask me why I want to carve brass instead of casting it (for now). It's partly that I feel safer somehow carving brass than carving wax, even though logically wax should be much less intimidating to work with, and also that there's a single step that I already know the important aspects of, so I'm putting off the whole mold-making, melting safely, and pouring learning curve. And it's partly that there's a primal satisfaction to grinding away solid metal, almost like I'm pushing the shape out of the raw material by brute force or something (yes, yes, with electric motors assisting; I'm talking about the emotional response here, not the physics).

Interestingly, despite my wanting to carve metal instead of casting it for now, I do have another desire that involves making molds. Though I haven't done it in a couple of years, I enjoy making molded chocolates using store-bought molds. Pretty much from the first time I did that, I've wanted to make my own molds as well. So instead of carving something out of wax to make a mold for metal, I've been wanting to carve something out of metal to make a mold for chocolates. I need to get my hands on the right sort of plastic for making candy molds though. Imagine little chocolate krummhorns, violas da gamba, hammered dulcimers, cameras, and SCA heraldry! (Hey, anyone know where to get food-safe plastic suitable for molds that I can form in my own kitchen or workshop?)

I want to learn how to beat metal as well. I've done a little bending (I made my own electric-guitar cookie cutter, and I've made some simple shapes out of wire (more functional than artistic), but I want to learn how to make more interesting curves with a hammer. I want to learn how to dish a plate, how to "raise" metal, how to make a bell for a Christmas-tree-ornament-sized sackbut, how to stretch metal without tearing it. Both cold and hot. I keep meaning to get to one of blackanvil's weekend open-house blacksmithing lessons -- watching blacksmiths work the iron, seeing the shapes emerge, with fire and sparks as extra bonus excitement fascinated me as a child and fascinates me now, and yes, I'd like to learn to do that. But I haven't wanted it enough to give up something else I'm doing to make time for it. Sooner later, I should, even if only temporarily. And I want to learn at least the basics of working cold metal with a hammer to form shapes. And I'll need to know when each technique is apropriate.

I'd never thought about it before, but I wonder whether part of my desire to make three-dimensional shapes out of metal is an echo of the "I want Granddad to teach me to do this" feelings from my childhood, even though I'm approaching with a different technique for now, grinding instead of pouring. There's a satisfying tactile aspect to solid metal sculpture, especially if it's small enough to lift. And I want to be a part of that. I want the shapes in my head to come out in metal, and I want to be able to pick them up and say, "I made this." And I want to be able to pick them up and say, "This shape is now reassuringly in my hand; I got it out of my head and put it in my hand." And now that I think of it, if I ever have children, it'll be cool to be able to hand them one piece and say, "I made this," and hand them another and say, "Your great-grandfather made this." I like the idea that metal sculpture is durable, that I'll leave behind Things I made.

Y'know what's funny? I still think of myself as "not very good with my hands". Really. Yeah, I play guitar ... somehow that translates to "good with my fingers" instead of "good with my hands", and I'm not sure why. (Though that phrasing brings another activity to mind as well, which I'm told I do well.) But I have trouble making drawings come out as I'd like, I do very little of my own automobile repairs (but an ex-girlfriend did teach me body work, and I can face the task of replacing an alternator even though brakes and carbeurators scare me), and I have no confidence when it comes to carving wood or wax or doing origami (which is going to make my idea of folding a thousand origami clowns especially challenging), or sewing (I do basic repairs, but don't make clothes) or a whole lot of other things ... even things that people can point to well-done examples of and say, "Gee, Glenn, you managed it that time; why don't you think you can do this?" But the idea of carving metal seems "safe", for reasons I haven't identified. Oh, I know I'm going to have some major frustration making the three-dimensional shapes I'm carving look like what I've got in my head or whatever I'm using as a model, but the fact that I'm going to have a learning curve to climb and wasted metal along the way doesn't make me uncomfortable the way it does when the material is wood or leather ... or paint.

I finally did get some metal to carve -- a block of aluminum a couple inches on a side, and six inches of one-inch diameter brass rod -- several weeks ago so that I could start some of the carving ideas I've wanted to do, but I keep having more urgent, or more important, or simply more responsible things that I have to do, so I look at the brass, and the Dremmel tool, and I think, "No, I can't play until I do these other things. I'll get to that later." Well maybe it's time to get down to it, 'cause I'm tired of looking at it, feeling my hands twitch in anticipation, and going off to do something else.

I guess I think of artists who make money from their art as "working", and artists who merely make pretty, sometimes culturally important, things as "playing". Pretty twisted, huh? (Pretty 20th Century American, too, huh?) So I have to "give myself permission" to go make art. Maybe I should print up signs that say in large, friendly letters, "To-do today: Give yourself permission to make art," and put them on the fridge, the bathroom wall, and my bedroom door.

Anyhow, what it all adds up to, I guess, is, I like metal..