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The Good in Wood
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I have a supply of cedar, most of which was trimmed
from trees in the local cemetery. For that reason, and in spite
of the fact that it is now lifeless, I call it dead wood. Some
people, who don't listen to conversation carefully, unwittingly
invite me to tell them that twice, or more. (Or, maybe they are
just overly polite.) It has beautiful grain, often with a multitude
of eyes, and has heartwood the color of the 'mountains majesty'
on a summer night. It is common throughout most of the U. S., but
isn't very popular as a turning wood. It has a tendency to crack,
if turned to thin dimensions.
One of my wood sources is the local landfill
- the area for grass clippings and branches trimmed from trees
in residential back yards. You would not believe what people throw
out. I can usually recognize the species found there, but I do
have some inventory that has thus far escaped identification.
One day I picked up a firewood-size chunk of spalted beech. It
yielded a series of exquisite bowls. Why did someone toss just
one chunk of wood away? Why cut it to firewood size? Where's the
rest of the tree? Why did they chop it down, to begin with? Didn't
they like it? Why didn't they call me first? These are questions.
OBJECTS
You may be thinking that bowls are the extent
of turned wood. You know you're wrong, but the range of lathe
art may surprise you. I'm constantly receiving catalogues from
suppliers of lathe-related paraphernalia. And every one of them
has numerous kits, parts, blanks, and/or attachments for turned
objects. Some of the more unusual ones are hummingbird feeders,
golf ball markers and diggers, sixty-minute hourglasses, fifty
year calendars, coffee grinders, laser pointers, toothpick holders,
perfume pens, whistles, flashlights, and bracelet helpers (for
some reason some people think these are roach clips, whatever
they are). These are relatively small items, except for the hour
glass and coffee grinder, which, when nicely turned, are useful,
and highly marketable at local art/craft shows. Of course, pens
are a staple. Countless styles include twist pens/pencils, click
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pens/pencils, cigar (named because of their shape) pens, roller
ball pens, fountain pens, mini-pens, and European and American style
pens. The latter were known as Mont Blanc-style and Parker-style
pens, but pressure from legal authorities motivated the turning
community to adopt more generic names. Pens are always popular items,
and are appreciated equally by both sexes, as gifts. The fact that
they are also useful is just a valuable added benefit. I recently
turned a Parker Duofold-style pen (which obviously isn't the case,
due to the aforementioned legal questions, so it is a 'secret-top'
pen, with an as-yet-undetermined generic name) out of Thuya Burr.
This is an underground burl that grows in North Africa. It has a
distinctive aroma, not unlike Winter Savory. So, when you write
with this pen, the memory of it will remain with you long after
the occasion.
I suppose my 'turned inventory' is equally divided
between small pocket-size items, and larger ones. This allows
my creative juices to get exercised. The larger pieces often permit
a wide range of shapes and dimensions, since they usually don't
need to fit into some other piece. The smaller pieces are often
defined by the parts that come with them. The pocket clip on a
pen, for instance, will be useless if the upper part of the pen
is turned too large. If the pen is turned too short, the insert
won't retract. And, of course, if you try to fit part of a pen
into part of a flashlight, for instance, you won't be able to
see, or write. Even with these restrictions, there is some latitude
for artistry. For instance, I usually create a scooped out indentation
on my pens, where your fingers guide the pen. This makes it a
little more comfortable to hold, individualizes the pen, and defines
the difference between mine and assembly-line pens you may see
from The Eastern Hemisphere. I don't imagine this feature has
enough significance to make pens "my signature product", but I
think it adds value to them.
The universally innate need for acceptance is
fulfilled, in my case, by a challenge presented by nature. I utilize
a tree component by embellishing it; by changing its appearance;
by redefining its characteristics; or even by simply exposing
it, so that natural wood is turned into a radiant object. My art
is four-dimensional: Its height, width, and breadth is further
defined by its relational connection to its beholder. If these
objects serve a functional purpose, hold your evening salad, stir
your cheese fondue, or write your letter, that is entirely satisfactory
to me. If you set my work on the mantel, or hang it from a peg
on the wall, never to use the object in its functional sense,
just to admire its beauty, then I'm just as pleased. Wide public
acceptance is further confirmation of what I already know. It
is gratifying to see the evidence of this confirmation, when I
see others appreciating my work, now in their possession.
Over the years, I've confirmed a widely-held
theory: the more one learns about a subject, the more one realizes
there is to learn. And the more I turn, the more I realize I haven't
yet turned. (There's a poem in there, somewhere.) The paucity
of turned wood products in craft shops in the U.S. (the British
are far ahead of us in this area) is no indication of the number
of excellent American wood turners there are. Many of them are
doing such phenomenally delicate work, it tests my imagination,
let alone my potential skill to match it. There is a huge market
in this country for lathe artwork. In fact, we are merely on the
threshold of this burgeoning form of art. Thankfully, wood-turning
is a very enjoyable past time to me. So I always look forward
to every sliver of time I can invest in my workshop. Perhaps my
turnings will impact the market to some minute degree. In fact,
several venues have displayed my work, so I suppose you could
say my work has evolved from hobby to craft to art. If a customer
especially cherishes something I've created enough to buy it neither
one of us is particularly influenced by the market. We've each
simply satisfied a need: to create, or to own, a treasure of unique
value.
-John Styer
