Hi gang,
In my case, I read Lord of the Rings one too many times. Wanted to
get my own sword. Being too broke to buy one, even if I could have
figured out where, I decided to learn to make one.
And many moons later, here I am.
The real story is much longer, involving a high-school internship
program that let me spend one day a week at Ohio State’s jewelry
program, where I discovered just how much fun all of this is.
It’s still fun, which is why I’m still doing it. It’s just that my
toys are bigger now. (Much) But it did all start with wanting a
sword, and having no idea where to get one, except to make it
myself.
There have been a great many teachers and mentors along the way,
each of whom left their little mark, (or larger ones, in some cases)
and all of whom deserve thanks for helping me along the road.
(What, you thought I was born knowing all this crap? Oh no. Many
painful and/or hysterical learning experiences were had along the
way. Sometimes at the same time.)
A few years back, there was a thread about 'who taught you?'and I
wrote up a list of the major players in what passed as my education,
and then for some reason, I never posted it. This seems like a good
place to say thank you to all of them, in a little bit longer form
than just a list of names.
So, it started out in high school. My school was the alternative HS
in Columbus, OH. They had a program where upperclassmen spent
Wednesdays interning somewhere in the community. That was probably
the most valuable program I was part of in high school. It taught me
that I really didn’t want to be an architectural draftsman, even
though I loved drawing, and that while building things in the local
community theater’s prop shop was fun, it was no way to make a
living. On the other hand, Ohio State’s Jewelry lab…now that was
something.
Now that I think about it, I actually got started a little earlier,
at 15 or so. I read Lord of the Rings once too many times, and
decided I wanted a sword. Having no idea where to get one, and
certainly not enough money for a real one anyway, I figured the
easiest thing to do was make one. Entirely coincidentally, Ohio
State put on an annual Renessance Faire, which I stumbled across on
my way over to my father’s office one spring morning. There were a
bunch of historical reenactors there, and they had swords! So I
figured they clearly knew where to get them, and might know how to
make them. It turned out that one of the guys there was a blacksmith
who taught knifemaking workshops in his basement forge. (Coal. In
the basement. Really.) I quickly realized that swords were out of
reach, but knives were plausible, especially as there was a custom
knifemaker’s supply place in town that sold blank blades, ready to
be handled up. So I concentrated on making handles, while I worked
up the skills for making swords.
So, for being kind to a gawky, totally clueless kid, a first tip of
the hat to Mike Ely.
(As an example of the clueless level: I wanted a zweihander sword.
So I bought a bar of 440-C stainless, 2" wide by 1/4" thick by six
feet long. With the idea in mind to use a 6" bench grinder to
grind a sword out of this block of steel. 25 years later, that bar
of steel is still leaning up against the wall in my parent’s
basement, with about a 1/4" taken off one corner. All I could manage
before the grinder smoked.) (I’ll do something with it. Eventually.)
Next on the road was Ohio State’s jewelry lab, as part of that HS
internship program, where I studied with Don Duncan, who retired a
couple of years later when the program got folded. (The first
casualty of many, sadly.) Funnily enough, his grad student was Bonny
Kubasta, who eventually became the program head at Savanna College
of Art & Design. I enjoyed that so much that I went from being a
generic liberal arts major at the colleges I applied to early, to
looking at colleges with an eye to their metals programs. Over the
summer between highschool and college, I apprenticed to a reenactor
blacksmith, Andrew Holly, who taught me much of what I know of
blacksmithing, including how to work a coal fire such that I could
crank the blower with my back to it, and have no worries about
burning the tip off of a knife he was working on.
Andy died a few years back, but I still have the anvil he sold me,
my first. Andy, many thanks.
After a summer of forging steel under a summer sky (and at the Ohio
State Fair. Imagine a shed. On blacktop, just off the midway. In
Ohio. In August. With a coal forge going full blast… Youth is
wasted on the young!)
I ended up as a metals major at Syracuse, with Michael Jerry and
Barbara Walter. Of whom I cannot say enough good things. They were,
and are both very quiet sorts of people (Michael’s since retired)
but I learned to appreciate their professionalism more once I got
out into the wider art world, and saw other instructors who were not
nearly as devoted to their kids. Michael and Barbara both bent over
backwards to give us room to grow without turning us into “mini-me”.
There were some things I couldn’t help but pick up, Michael’s love
for raising and forming, for example, but he gave me enough room
that it became my love for raising and forming metal too. Michael,
Barbara, thank you.
Syracuse being Syracuse, they had a study abroad program, so I spent
my Junior year in London, in the Extended Studies Programme at City
of London Polytechnic. (Better known as Sir John Cass.) (London Poly
has since morphed into Guildhall University, but the Cass is still
going strong, much has it has since about 1760.) So I took courses
in Silversmithing, Diamond Setting, Jewellery fabrication, and I
can’t remember what all else. The tutors I remember were John
(?Norgate?) for Silversmithing, Bob and someone who’s name I’ve
sadly forgotten for diamond setting, and Ralph Hargate for Jewellery
fabrication. These men were all outstanding tutors. I was having so
much fun, I ended up spending the summer term there on my own hook,
soaking up as much knowledge as I could.
I came home with a suitcase full of silver scrap and tools, as well
as a Special Award for Silversmithing from the British Jeweller’s
Association So, John, Ralph, Bob (and Bob’s co-tutor whose name I
can’t remember, but whose pave parrot paperweight will stick with me
until I die.) Many thanks for giving me more techniques in 9 months
than I’d ever imagined possible. (As well as Nick & the Cockney guy
who were the techs. Thanks guys.)
After Syracuse, I moved on to Cranbrook Academy of Art, outside
Detroit, as a metals major, under Gary Griffin. All of the
instructors at all of the other programs I applied to came from
Cranbrook, so I figured I’d cut out the middleman.
I learned a lot while I was there, some good, some bad. From Gary I
learned welding and the gearhead mindset. From the other grad
students, I learned a great many things. From Klaus Berner (and his
brother Rick) I learned both that I wasn’t half the machinist that I
thought I was, as well as the beginnings of the path to become at
least half as good as I thought I was. (My stuff moves. His glides.)
David Cole was there at the same time, and from him, I learned to
appreciate the finer aspects of antique scientific instruments, and
the ability to read the minds of their makers, made manifest in the
nature and fabric of their creations.
My room-mate Hyung Kyu-Lee taught me the meaning of friendship, as
well as the Korean damascene technique I wrote my MFA thesis on. From
Deb Uhls, NickMonster, and Liz Fall & Christina Kozak, I learned to
be a bit more human, even if it took me a few years.
Afte graduating from Cranbrook with my MFA, I moved to Rockville,
MD, (outside Washington DC) to teach at Montgomery College. What was
originally supposed to be a sebattical replacement position morphed
into 6 part-timers filling in for one full timer out on a
Fullbright. (in an omen of academic trends to come…) But the
important part of that was that I spent a year teaching next to Jan
Maddox, who’s one of the best jewelry teachers I know. Much of
what I know of teaching I learned by watching Jan. Jan, many, many
thanks. (And all of the years of my students have a debt to her as
well. I wouldn’t be half the teacher I am now without having had a
chance to watch her do it.) Jan introduced me to Yvonne Arritt, who
taught me about moving metal with a hydraulic press, and designing
for production, as well as how much fun it can be to work in a
studio with a friend. Yvonne introduced me to Betty-Helen Longhi,
who it turns out had known my parents in grad-school. Betty’s been a
friend, mentor, and occasional instructor for 15 years now. Betty,
thanks.
While I was part-timing at Montgomery, I also had a couple of trade
jewelry jobs. The first one for Michael Schwartz at Creative
Metalworks, from whom I learned a great deal about casting, and a
bit about business management. I then spent some time working as a
bench guy for Doug Zaruba, up in Frederick, who taught me a lot
about hi-karat gold fabrication, and a lot more about business
management.
By 1995, Komelia Okim, who was the person who’d been out on a
fullbright, came back, and Jan Maddox retired. I taught a few more
semesters at MCC, and then moved back to Ohio in the summer of 1996
to work for a sculpture studio that appeared promising. Not so much.
So after about 6 months of that, I quit to focus more on my own
line.
In that period, I did a semester as a sebattical replacement for Tom
Muir at Bowling Green State, just up the road in Bowling Green,
Ohio.
I moved to Santa Barbara in the fall of 1997, and started teaching
part time for Santa Barbara City College’s Adult-Ed jewelry program,
which was just being revived. The prime mover behind the
resurrection of the jewelry program was Janice Lorber, another on my
short list of outstanding teachers. Jan Maddox taught me how to
teach college. Janice Lorber had spent 30 years teaching high
school jewelry. Janice taught me to prepare. She taught me to think
things through, step by step, and plot them all out, to the point
where anyone smarter than broccoli can follow them. Without having a
chance to watch Janice in action for 12 years, I wouldn’t be the
other half of the teacher I am today. Janice, my humble thanks.
After 12 years in Santa Barbara, I got married and moved up to the
Bay Area. I’d known Lee Marshall for a goodly number of years
semi-socially because of the Bonny Doon presses. He mentioned that
he needed some help for a few days putting these new saws he’d come
up with together. I figured 'sure, why not? I’ll do that while I’m
job hunting…" Yeah. 5 years later, here I sit, programming 7 axis
CNC lathes in my head, and being probably about as good a machinist
now as I thought I was back in grad school. Lee has taught me a lot
about how to design for serious production, and how to look outside
the box. He’s also taught me how much fun it can be to design things
with a partner you don’t have to slow down for, or explain. And
that’s lots of fun. Thanks Lee.
And that’s it, my road in a nutshell. A road filled with people who
shared what they knew, and helped me remember the fun that got me
started in this in the first place.
Regards,
Brian