The thing about luck

I usually start these things with a story.  Something that I think relates to my point or makes a point that I want to make.  For this there are too many stories.  I could tell the one about the young woman who got her long hair caught in the drill in college.  There was blood, and crying in pain, and crying from humiliation, and a really messed up haircut.  That was the first one I remember.  I could tell the one about the guy tapping the chisel towards his stomach because it was easier than re-clamping the work.  I’m pretty sure you know how that worked out.  It also involved blood. There’s the one about the girl and the wood chipper.  That involved some serious pain and months of having her finger sewn into her armpit.  She was a musician.  She needed her fingers.  There are stories of digging through dust to find finger bits, stories of broken bones, stories of deep cuts, and stories of projectiles imbedded deep in human tissue.  Those are the stories where the consequences were immediate and violent and everyone I know who makes things, works with their hands, will say “uh, yeah, ..saw that coming.”  

I use a band saw.  Fairly quiet and no flying dust particles.

They all see that coming and still rely on luck when it comes to long term safety.  Like the guy in the shop down the complex from mine who was cutting, welding and grinding with no eye protection, hearing protection or respirator to protect his lungs.   Not that eye protection is about long term safety.  I don’t have a personal story about someone who has lost an eye, probably because I mostly work alone.  And I’m pretty sure that you can’t have your eye sewn into your armpit to save your sight.  Also, squinting doesn’t count.  I do have a couple of incredibly sad stories of guys dying young of lung cancer or ending up with emphysema.  Either way they were unable to work.  I also have a lot of stories of older guys who can’t hear.  It’s not that I don’t want to look them in the eye and enunciate when I talk to them.  It’s just that it’s not convenient at all times.  

Fiber cut off wheel.  Contains silica and aluminum

Cut off saw - These suckers are noisy and dirty

I don’t really think it’s laziness that makes people not don proper safety equipment, although that may play into it.  It actually mystifies me.  I do get that some of it can be a little uncomfortable at times.  I work in Vegas.  My shop gets so hot in the summer that my thermometer can’t register the temperature.  I still wear an apron, gloves, safety glasses or goggles (this depends on what I am doing), ear protection and a respirator when I’m working.  Oh yeah, and boots.  I sweat a lot.  

Maybe it’s some form of machismo.  I don’t know what the unisex word for that is.  I find that black booger blacksmithing thing disturbing.  Really?  If your boogers are black at the end of the day, so are your lungs.  My first blacksmithing workshop, the instructor (I won’t say who he is because he’s well known) said that he liked to forge his work as close to finished as he could because he didn’t want to eat grinder dust.  Huh?  What difference did it make?  He stood over a coal forge sucking in soot.  Grinder dust was the least of his problems.  Also he was deaf.  He did, to his credit, use safety glasses.  That was it though. 

Not flattering but they work

The rubber keeps some dust out.

So stylish

Recently there have been a couple news stories about cancer.  One was that it’s a crap shoot.  The other was that behavior plays a large part in its development.  So why take the chance?  The thing about relying on luck is that good luck needs to happen every time.  Bad luck only has to happen once.  Those seem like crappy odds. 

 

Apron doesn't have to be leather to protect.

I use different equipment for different processes.  While working, I always wear an apron and boots and proper clothing.  I don’t wear jewelry.  That’s pretty common.  I have pretty short hair now, but when it was long I always tied it back. 

I like a tight fitting glove.  Get the right size.

I always wear a glove on my left hand.  That is because I am right handed.  It means my left hand is in danger.  If I need one, I have right hand gloves.  

I use a kevlar glove to weld. 

I wear ear muffs because I don’t like things in my ears, but ear plugs are fine too. 

  

So many ways to save your hearing and worth it.

Wear these all the time and it will be like never having worn them at all.

I wear safety glasses for some operations and goggles for others.  Even though I work alone, I always protect my eyes. 

Standard goggles - I hate them. 

I find these too heavy and the rubber seal makes them fog.

I use goggles similar to these.  No fog.  Try SafetyGlassesUSA.com

 

Although I know some people will use dust masks, I use a respirator.  As a scientist once told me, the visible particles are a problem, but the stuff you can’t see can be worse.  That’s the stuff that gets by a dust mask.  

I think these are a waste of time and money.

This is what I use.  3M Bodyman Respirator.  It fits under my hood and works for grinding and buffing.  Get the correct size and filter.  You can get them online or at a body shop supply.  Worth the money.

This is the Miller welding respirator.  I haven't tried it. 

I know I will die.  We all will.  I just don’t want to be a pathetic shell of my former pathetic shell before then.  To me at least, it’s worth the money and the effort to protect myself short and long term.

Now back to work

j

You know...You really are an asp.

A while ago, I was a member of an art collective.  I was asked to join though I don't consider myself and artist in the contemporary sense.  I am more an artist in the there were guilds and apprenticeships and decades of training leading to work for royalty and the church sense.  Like Michelangelo.  The stone carver.  Or maybe like Lorenzo Ghiberti.  Only less bronze....and other stuff.  The thing is, most artisans didn't sign their work so I can't give you an exact example. 

Anyway, once a year the collective, which turned into a center to enhance somebody's resume, had a juried members show.  I was a member.  I paid my dues.  I entered the shows.  My piece was usually chosen to be included in the show.  I have a theory about why this was, but that is another story.  Sometimes my stuff, or work in the vernacular, doesn't strike the amateur art critic as art. 

I had a show in a government rotunda once, and during the opening reception some guy asked my parents what made my stuff art.  Naturally they called  me over so he could ask me directly.  I told him it wasn't.  Yeah.  Now that I think about it, that was graceless. 

Really though, the things I make don't belong under Plexiglas shields.  They should be used and touched and held and.....used mostly.

Okay, so back to the juried show at the art collective which no longer wanted me once it became a center.  Again it was at the opening reception...I overheard a guy tell his companion that the only reason I made the type of things I make is that I am not capable of figurative work.  -------------------------------------------  I can see now that I should avoid opening receptions.  

The next juried member show I entered this.

I can comment on the human condition as well as the next guy.  I can't actually sell it, however, because it has no use except maybe as a reminder that no matter what you do there is always someone who thinks it isn't a conscious choice.  That you do what you do because you can't do what you really want to do.  Actually, sometimes this is true. 

My model.  Isn't she beautiful?

This time I made a conscious choice to do something figurative.  I actually think it made the choice. I just did what the metal asked.  Yeah I know .... whooo whooo

When I first started out trying to smith, I didn't think pipe could be forged in basically the same way as solid bar.  I had a buddy, who is a fine smith, and he encouraged me to try it.  ( He's still my good buddy.  I knew you were worried. )  It made me incredibly happy to find out that you could move tubing in the same way that you moved solid bar.  This revelation created new possibilities.  Larger diameter with less weight.  It also created a solution in  this case.  I don't know if you know this but, just like clothing fashion, home fashion has fads.  The result is leftover materials.  I have a pile of 1/2" pipe ends.  Less than 6' long.   

I was holding a 30 some inch length and trying to figure out what I could do with it when I decided to go all figurative.  I would make a snake.  Really, I think it wanted to be a snake.   

Got its head in a vice

I started by fullering the neck to make the head.  I drew out the taper up to the jaw and then I shaped the head.   

You really don't want to touch the snake

Then I let it sit there for several weeks while I did other stuff.  Believe me when I say, half formed snakes are annoying.  In that time, though, I realized that a snake would be as useless as a chunk of pipe.  It would become a cane. 

 

Needs a little more cleanup

Carving the eyes and jaw came next.  I used a chisel to rough the form and then I went back in and dressed it with a die grinder. ( Sorry all you purists.  What can I say. )  Once the head was where I wanted it, I formed the handle and drew the tapered tail. 

Snake head cane handle

 I cleaned it up and waxed it.  It's a simple but useful thing.  I kind of like the way it turned out.

34" snake cane

Now back to work

j

The artistic soul of a railroad spike

Have you ever known one of those people who has a luminous artistic soul.   You can see it under the soul crushing upbringing and layers of equally soul crushing life choices.  Each encounter makes you wish there were a way to free that inner force.  Perform an existential transformation.  With people that isn't possible.  The artistic soul is trapped.  Even a Disney marathon can't free it.  This is not to say that one can never break free of these constraints, it just takes self awareness and courage, and maybe a soupcon of confidence.  Not something that comes from without.  So the sad crushed artistic soul ends up searching desperately for an external salve for that internal yearning, and we look away...

 

...because there are things that we can transform.  Railroad spikes for instance.  Yeah, I know.  You wondered where I was going with that.  Listen, I try to give a little insight into the human condition with my tips and techniques.  Heavy on the human condition.  Light on tips and techniques.

Anyway, railroad spikes have an artistic soul.  This is in spite of the crushing they have endured at the hands (wheels) of trains.  At this point I must remind you that all railroad spikes no matter where you find them are the property of the rail companies.  So don't go running out to gather them like asparagus in the spring just so you can free their inner beauty.  That my friend is a crime.  Also, no pennies on the tracks.  THAT IS NOT FUNNY.

Can you see the inner beauty?

 

I had some spikes that came from a railroad on Mars I'm pretty sure.  Because Union Pacific doesn't own those.  They were given to me by a spiky haired Martian.  His name was Buck.  Anyway, they were begging me to free them.  So I did.

Martian spikes from Buck

There are, I suppose, a couple of things that you should know about railroad spikes.  First they are a very low carbon high carbon steel.  They are tool steel generally.  Particularly if they have a HC stamp, but you can do a spark test and tell if they are high carbon.   The other thing is that they all belong to the railroad companies.

  

The reason the carbon content matters is that the higher the carbon content to a point, the longer the edge will last when properly heat treated.  Lower carbon tool steel won't hold an edge for very long, but railroad spikes are so darn romantic that nobody cares that they actually make crappy knives.  Until you move in together and find out how dull they can be.  Also they never clean up after themselves.  What is that?

Mid process

Bringing out the beauty of a spike is fun.  It is one of those pleasures that is hard to articulate. You need raw power to hammer out the blade and if you let your hammer sing, the blade takes on a life of its own.    It forms itself.  It reveals its luminous artistic soul.  The handle hints at its desires as well.  The spike will guide you and reward you for your effort.  It naturally finds its form.  Truthfully, it is an easy blade to polish as well, because it is just barely tool steel.  With most blades, heat treating is somewhat complicated and, if you do it in a forge, fraught.  Railroad spikes are relatively easy to temper and don't need a lot of annealing.   

I wonder about the pictures I take sometimes.

Fun and satisfying.  

What more could you want.  

Ya know, except for maybe longevity.

A slightly more prettier picture.

Back to work

j