Thanks Bob

With Thanksgiving fast upon us I find myself considering the many, many things for which I am thankful.  The list goes on and on, but when I get to my craft, Ming-Kahuna, I can’t help but be reminded of all of the fine people who have inspired me over the years.  These folks, mostly unaware of their contributions, have led me to where I am today.  They have unwittingly helped to shape and mould my work that you see before you.  While there was no one in the very beginning to guide me with the creativity and mechanics of what would become a new craft, since then so many have taught me so much.  Many folks, if only through casual comments, have taught me about the pipe business.  At a time when an artisan selling on his own work was unheard of a few before me forged ahead creating what would become how I do business.  Other artisans have inspired me in the beauty of their artistry as well and the zeal with which they approach their craft.  Collectors have inspired and given me insight into my own work through their comments and suggestions.  Each person who has provided their feedback has shaped my craft and how I approach it, and, there have been so many.

Just as important as recognizing those influences is acknowledging them.  While it might be tempting to claim that one has done it entirely on his own, being a one man island, I would maintain that this stance would have to be less than honest.  We each are the sum total of our experiences, and, unless you live atop the highest mountain so many people touch us in so many different ways.  So, it came to pass that the other day while carving an especially nice little freehand in a new material I took notice of that little voice inside my head that guides me.  It’s almost always there, calming me down, allowing me to remain in the zone, while giving me the permission and freedom necessary to create.  While the thought had never occurred to me before to do so, I began to contemplate who that inner voice belonged to.  It wasn’t long before I had my answer.

Many of you probably recall Bob Ross.  Bob had a very successful show on PBS where he would paint a landscape during the course of the show demonstrating how it was done.  I recall many Saturday afternoons over the years watching Bob paint landscape after landscape, brooks, meadows, forest, mountains and sky.  He made it look easy, and maybe that was the idea so as to give aspiring new artists the courage to try (which is 99% of the battle) and some techniques to begin with.  With his happy go lucky patter, presented in tones not unlike Fred Rogers, the show was a sort of soporific mind candy that lulled one into a certain comfort zone, and, I suppose a certain pliability that may cause one to consider trying their hand at his art.  In essence, the man was a hypnotist.

Svengali aside, Bob Ross has stayed with me all of these years, and has become my inner artistic voice, for another reason.  One thing that Bob always stressed was that there is no right or wrong.  So many times he’d say something like “we’ll just put a little bush right here, or maybe a tree, there’s no reason not to, it’s your painting and you can do what you want, there’s no right or wrong.”  If Bob screwed something up in a painting he’d just change it and do it another way.  While Bob’s techniques were quite definite and well defined, there was absolutely nothing rigid in the ways that he applied them.  He gave himself the freedom to go with the flow.  He didn’t sweat it as he knew that there was always a Plan B available, one that wasn’t necessarily inferior to Plan A, only different.  I think that he implicitly understood that fear of failure can be paralyzing.  By taking the “fear of failure” component out of the equation he gave people the ability to give themselves permission to try.  To me, his attitude, and how he conveyed it, embodied the pure joy of art and the freedom of expression that lies at its very core.

Sadly, Bob Ross passed away in 1995.  And while this will sound rather corny, I have to say that a part of him lives on in me.  He has become my inner artistic voice.  He reminds me that there are no rights and wrongs, just choices and directions.  When one thing isn’t working that inner voice, Bob’s, reminds me that there are other directions to go, options that may be equally attractive that can and often do achieve even better results, and not to sweat it either way.  Bob constantly reminds me that what is being done is being done, first and foremost, for the joy of it.  Bob keeps me from becoming set in my ways so that I can experience the freedom necessary for my craft to remain fresh and new to me after the better part of a decade.  Bob, as my inner voice, is the artistic spirit.

Thanks Bob.  Mission accomplished.

Hira3 in the works

Before I discuss Hira3, which you see above rough carved, there’s something I’d like to say. Up till the other day my thought was not to preview Hiras.  Despite the fact that most “in progress” pieces shown here sell from here without being formally listed, I tend to think that sometimes showing a piece before it’s entirely finished somehow diminishes it.  But, the bottom line is that this blog is not about selling tampers.  This blog is about sharing my craft and my views of the world as contemplated while practicing my craft.  Many of the topics that I discuss here are the thoughts that go through my head while I’m in the shop, a time for reflection and thought, despite the deep concentration required by what I do.  My goal is to share my work and my thoughts about my work rather than to lure you here and then hit you with a sales pitch.  That said, the Hiras got me to thinking.

I got to thinking about how much fun it would have been to have this blog back in October of 1998 when Ming was in its infancy.  It would have been so cool to be able to share those early moments and to have a record of those times.  Of course I had no idea as to whether there was a future for what I was undertaking, so had the whole thing blown up in my face it would have been entertaining for a whole different reason.  And here I am now attempting to create something entirely new, something that may or may not be a success.  This is a situation so familiar to me from nearly a decade ago,  but, unlike that fall day late last century, I now have the ShopTalk blog, a venue offering a means to share these early moments of a new art form, no matter how it turns out.  So, having lamented the fact that I didn’t have such a blog nine years ago (“blog” wasn’t even a word back then) and recognizing what could have been, I would be a fool to not take advantage of the opportunity now presented to me to share my work with Hira as it unfolds, no matter how it all shakes out, failure or success. Please keep in mind that I’m making all of this up as I go along, as my creative process dictates and is able.  It all remains to be seen, so if you have a mind to please feel free to come along for the ride. 

That said, above you will see Hira3 rough carved.  This piece started out last week while Jeff Folloder was visiting.  I had just rough carved Hira2, and on a break from carving tampers I started to look through my briar.  Hiras 1 and 2 are good sized pieces, so I was looking for a smaller piece of briar so as to be able to experiment with size (Hira3 is four inches long, an inch smaller than Hira1 and Hira2).  My intention is to create Hiras in a broad range of sizes, so a smaller piece of briar was called for.  After digging for a few minutes I came across a perfect piece, one where a good part of the lower plateau had been used for something else.  The second I picked up the chunk and gave it a look over the Hira3 shape jumped into my head.  The underside of the piece was the very outside of the plateau, so upon wetting the briar (bringing out the grain) I wasn’t surprised to see that the grain radiated downwards from the top.  I think that the beauty of the grain took me back more than a bit, and I was left with the concern as to how the shaping would either diminish or accentuate the grain.  My best guess was that the grain would hold.  I would have to be constantly checking the grain during shaping so that fine adjustments could be made to the shape to maximize the grain.  The starting point of the briar had a decidedly asymmetrical shape/orientation, so I knew that I would have a lot of leeway in adjusting between shape and grain.  As it turned out the grain was so strong that I had almost complete freedom to key in on shape.  A couple of more than minimal pits did appear on one side of the “stinger” at the base, but in working past them all that it did was to force me to refine the shape of this feature further creating a shape that has come to define the piece.

While in Hira1 and Hira2 I had used acrylic for the band above the brass, for Hira3 I decided to use Cumberland.  To me Cumberland has more of a natural look to it, and, quite frankly, I love Cumberland.  I think you are likely to see Cumberland bands on many, if not most, future Hiras.  On Hira3 the Cumberland makes the piece.

Currently Hira3 is in sanding.  The shape has been refined even further, but not so much as you’d notice to any significant degree.  The last 5% of shaping is very subtle, but can make or break a piece.  Fortunately sanding to this point has not exposed any pits of flaws.  With Hira minor pits are allowed and are considered to be aspects of the wood and not flaws.  That’s not to say that Hiras will be full of pits, but they will be accepted if dead minimal and very few in number.  Should an otherwise fine piece contain an unacceptable amount of pits the piece will be rusticated.   Folks, this is wood, and if you are looking for perfection you’d probably be better rewarded if you look elsewhere.  On the other hand, I will do everything possible to bring to you pieces that are as free of those aspects as possible.

So, over the next handful of days Hira3 will progress through multiple stages of sanding.  When the piece is to the point where I can do a final aesthetic evaluation I will decide whether a stain will be applied.  My natural preference is for virgin briar, but one must consider that these pieces will not darken from having been smoked.  I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Today when I’m in the shop I’ll start to look for the piece of briar that will become Hira4.   

Next…Hira2

I’m only showing Hira2 in progress (rough carved with just a tad of clean-up to go before sanding) as it has already sold.  Hira1 was carved from scrap briar but this one was carved from my primo supply of briar that has been tucked away for five or six years.  To say that this supply of briar is some of the best grained around would be a grand understatement.  I’m also sure that it would be exceptionally fine smoking, but that is irrelevant.  The grain on Hira2 is exceptional, as you will see when it is completed when more photos go up here.

By the way, as to size, from tip to tamp Hira1 is about five inches.  I haven’t measured Hira2 but it’s about the same.  The top is broad so as to fill the palm (hira) of your hand.  Hira2 has a decidedly conch shape, a three groove spiral that morphs into a three groove panel on the shank.  Hira1 and Hira2 are both rather simple shapes, and I can assure you that what you see in the future will be…..unique.

 Hira3 is already in the works. 

Note: Hira2 is sold.

Once more into the breach…

In the palm of your hand, finger over the top as if to tamp, introducing a new statement in tamper art.

Hira, as never before.