Somehow my when my brain broke this past spring, I came out of it with a strong desire to be creative and artistic. This blog is one of the results. I have built things, got into collecting and polishing rocks and gems, have plans to paint and sculpt, and then the woodworking. I have many plans for woodworking, but I am currently focused on bowl carving. The idea is to take a log, and carve it into a beautiful bowl using only hand tools. No lathe to turn bowls, where you can make a pretty awesome bowl in an afternoon. No chainsaws. No electric sanders, no power anything. My one and only concession to this is an electric drill to use when I build my bowl carving horse. I need to drill four inch and a half holes into a eight inch diameter log for the legs and then its back to the 18th century tool wise. The hand tool aspect is what appeals to me most. This takes commitment and patience. It is very zen like to work this way, very good for the soul. I have ordered all the tools and am only waiting for my adze and bearded carving axe to arrive from Europe. I was so eager to get started, I carved a wooden mallet to use with my chisels and gouges because I didn't need special tools for that. It just needs some finishing touches and its ready to go. My next project is the most important, the bowl carving horse.
A carving horse is basically a raw log that is about 8 inches in diameter and about 36 inches long. It stands on its 4 legs just below waist level. Right in the middle you cut a section out that is about a foot and a half long and halfway through the log. You wedge the log into this part while you are hacking all the non bowl parts away. There is also an "L" cut into one end for when you don't want your piece so tied down. The legs are made from a single log that is quartered, with its four parts shaved into legs. It is primitive and also a working work of art.
Today I ventured out into the creek and wooded area behind my neighborhood to find my carving horse. I needed a tree to be the right size and straight. It needed to be a hardwood tree that had enough straight section for the carving area and legs. My added problem is that I didn't want to just chop down some majestic tree and use only a bit of it. I had to find the right tree, hopefully one with a good sized side branch so the tree could continue on living but donate a bit of itself to my art. I searched and searched and could find no such tree. The candidates were either not straight or not thick enough. I wandered in these beautiful woods and along the peaceful creek, listening to the ever so calming sounds of gently flowing water from the recent rains. I was not discouraged or frantic, because I knew the right tree would find me. I tend to think most things are less about the destination and more about the journey, and this journey was what I needed after the arduous month I have had.
I had followed the creek for a good distance when I came upon an area just ahead that looked different. I scrambled up the embankment and walked into this most amazing group of trees. They were all elm trees and they were all growing parallel to the ground towards the south. There were at least a dozen of these trees, all together. They were mature trees, twenty years old at least but likely older. It was hard to tell because of the odd way they had all grown. I had so many curious thoughts about how on earth this had happened. I could see no damage, like a tornado or wind storm and blown then down and they tenaciously kept growing. It was just like they all sprouted, grew a bit, then decided to head south. I also thought about the wicked awesome fort I could make around these trees, since I'm basically a boy at heart. Each tree was perfectly straight and more than thick enough for my needs. I could not cut a single one of these amazing trees down though, that would be an abomination, a selfish indulgence that would rob the forest of this amazing display. I knew all this the moment I saw these trees so I just enjoyed them for awhile as the daylight began to fade. I decided it was time to head home, refreshed with my journey when I happened upon "my tree".
My tree was similar to the others I had marveled at. It had been damaged thought. The damage was not very old but it was evident that the tree was dying. It would be soil again in the not so distant future and I could see the insects doing their work at the damaged area. The wonderful thing was that there was a perfect straight and thick area from the ground and to the damage. It was more than what I needed and the best part is that I wasn't ruining a healthy and interesting tree. It was like an organ donation, though it was dying, it would live on through my art. How perfectly poetic.
I went to work with my tools. I had brought all I would need, my large axe, my hatchet and my crosscut saw. They were all purchased from Home Depot and not vintage. Side note; Would I be some kind of weird hipster if I used vintage tools? I would if I could find them, but I have been unsuccessful in finding what I need. The Home Depot tools have no soul, but certainly get the job done.
The work was hard, but I knew it would be so. This is the journey I enjoy. I sawed and a chopped and down came my tree. The sunlight continued to fade but I wanted to accomplish my goal. As dusk came and turned into evening, I just finished cutting my two logs to size. I left them where they lay since I have yet to figure out a creative way to drag them home efficiently. I will return to this enchanted spot in the forest sometime this week to bring them home. I may quarter my log that will become my legs in the forest for ease of transport, and for the opportunity to just be there and work surrounded by natures beauty.
I packed up my tools, tired but satisfied in a way that only comes from fruitful hard work. It was quite dark by this time. I went to the edge of the forest and followed the edge of the farmers field along the tree line towards the main path home. I am quite sure I was trespassing during this entire adventure, but that just makes it more interesting. I am an outlaw lumberjack, a loose cannon who plays by his own rules. Maybe one of my rules needs to involve bringing a flashlight next time though.
I trudged through the early night. I was in not hurry, for I enjoy the night. I savor the night and its peace and quiet. I have never feared the night, but embrace it. I let it surround and envelop me until I become part of the night. My mind was clear and my stress was gone as I made my way down my dark path. I could see nothing but the night guided me as a friend would do.
When I was nearing my home, my son called me to make sure I wasn't dead. I love that boy with his thoughtful and responsible nature. I assured him I was quite alive but was just enjoying the night. I got home and entered through the garage so that I could remove my muddy boots and dirty work clothes. I sat in my garage in the quiet and let the events of the evening sink in and become part of my ever changing story. I am grateful for today, for the creek and forest that someone unknowingly allows me to wander, and I am grateful for my donor tree. My mind is at peace and tomorrow will be another chance to find the beauty in this life I live.
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