Musings on Life in General

"I Meant to Do That."

2010-01-18T11:02:00.000-08:00

The keen observer will notice the form of the Fugu Blowfish hiding in this piece.

In Part 1 of this discussion I expressed some opinions about an artist's obligation NOT to offer an apology for his/her work. In Part 2, I'd like to suggest several reasons that some find it tempting to do so.

The first reason is that many artists want to control the discussion about their work. They believe that their conscious "intentions" should bracket the discussion about its "meaning." "No," they might say, "I never intended to make those connections. I did not mean it in that way, and the critic is wrong in his assessment. Here's what I was trying to do . . . " The problem here is that only the result can be held up to scrutiny, and an explanation by the artist of his/her intention is only special pleading. You may have intended to create a film that explores the intricacies of human nature, but what you did create is trite and vulgar. Or, maybe you intended only to put blocks of color on canvas, but what you did is affect a drastic shift in the way people perceive abstract painting.

Is this a good idea?

In brief, the artist does not and can not control the way his/her work is perceived by an audience, by a critic, or by history itself. It's fantastic for the artist to be a part of the discussion, but he must approach it with humility and the acknowledgment that many valid readings of his work exist. He must always be open to learning about his own work from its many viewers.

The second reason I think artists or artisans stand on their intentions is that they're not sufficiently competent in their discipline, or they're simply unwilling to admit that they've made something mediocre. This is what I call the "oh-I-meant-to-do-that" syndrome. Symptoms include describing anything lumpy or lacking purpose as "organic." The patient may also apply the moniker "Danish" to anything he can't quite get symmetrical. It's understandable, and we all do it to some extent, but it is a far better thing to acknowledge imperfections in one's work than to try and justify them as "intentional." In the end, it matters not at all if you "meant to do that." It matters only what is done. Was it successful?

The final reason artists choose to interpret their own work is that they don't trust their audience to recognize its inherent brilliance. "Do you see the way I've matched this line up with that line? Did you notice notice the way the bowl slopes in conjunction with the shank? Can you detect all the subtleties I've managed with this piece?" While this may be the most "helpful" form of interpretation for some who can't always "see,"--and I don't necessarily dispute that--it can also be crude and even disrespectful. Yes, you are more likely to generate greater interest in a piece if you bill it as "profound," but that's simply a form of self-aggrandizement. If you genuinely create something that's profound, chances are you'll not need to "explain" it to your audience. They'll "get it," and they'll appreciate being trusted to get it.

This pipe is astonishingly comfortable in the hand, especially the right hand.

I realize some might consider this discussion a bit overwrought for something as simple as a pipe. That is, I admit, a fair criticism. After all, it's just a block of wood with two holes in it. It's also a functional object--something we've not even touched on--and is irrelevant if it can't perform the task for which it was created. What I'd like to do, though, is table that discussion, taking it as a given that the pipes under discussion are well engineered, crafted from excellent materials, and will deliver a very satisfactory smoke. Granting that, we're left with a discussion of aesthetic merit which I would like to argue breaks down into two basic questions: Is it "pretty," and is it "successful?"

Wow . . . that's weird.

These are both difficult questions to answer, but I think broad consensus might be reached more readily on the former than the latter. After all, "pretty" things are often quite safe. They are usually inoffensive and are rarely challenging. Generally speaking, they have a broad appeal and cater to an established and popular aesthetic. For most artists, 90+% of the work will fall into this category--or it least that is the goal. I would liken such work to a well composed landscape painting. People like them, the work puts little strain on the artist, and they pay the bills.

An interesting angle.

The remaining 10% of the work, however, falls into a different category. Such work seeks to explore and to push boundaries, not to end up as wall decor. It requires more both from the creator and the observer since it rarely draws upon, or appeals to an established aesthetic tradition within the medium. In other words, it may be unfavorably received, or even reviled. Such a piece may, in the fullness of time, be judged to represent a new form of beauty . . . or it may be plain ugly, but this is largely beside the point. One hopes only that such a piece is successful. By that I mean that it moves the conversation forward, keeps it going, helps to splinter a monolithic aesthetic, or spawns refinement of an idea. In the end, such pieces become just another part of the artist's larger body of work, and it is by this body of work that an artist is judged.

The following piece is one I found exceptionally challenging, and still do. It may be "pretty," though I don't find it to be. It may be "ugly," which, I suppose, is still okay by me. My real hope, though, is that it was successful. It's been called "hideous," a "bad acid trip," a "paradigm shift," and an "epiphany." I call it Haptic Yako-Gai. I hope you enjoy and will participate in the discussion.

What does it all mean? (Part 1)

2010-01-13T08:34:00.000-08:00

What is this?

I'm not often willing to comment on my own work or offer anything in the way of commentary. It is the task of the artist to create--paint, sing, write, sculpt, what have you--not to ascribe "meaning." This, in the end, must be left to an interpretive community, and ultimately to history. This is one reason that I stubbornly refuse to offer "descriptions" of my work, giving instead some basic dimensions and identifying the various materials that were used. So called "descriptions" always devolve into attempts to create meaning, e.g. "this piece draws upon traditional Japanese elements of X, taking into account the work of Y, and paying homage to the historically significant Z movement." While these descriptions do serve a purpose--namely to sell pipes--I think they're also destructive to the work.

The notion that an artist--any artist--is an authority on his/her own work is largely a 19th Century construction owing much to the theory of "authorial intent," and the idea that "meaning" is present in a work and must be extracted. However, the more recent aesthetic and interpretive trend asserts that the "reader" brings his/her own meaning to the "text" based on a given perspective--life experiences, cultural milieu, etc. In short, this approach--often called "reader response theory"-- takes seriously the ability of a viewer to see profound things within an artist's creation, rather than dictating to the viewer what they should be seeing. There are, to be sure, more and less "informed" viewers, but each comes to the table with a unique and valid interpretive perspective. When an artist--or the purveyor of his/her work--attempts to speak authoritatively about its "meaning," the interpretive process comes to a screeching halt and for most, its "meaning" becomes fixed.

The "Makoto?"

As an example, I once made a cavalier that I called the Makoto. For me, it was an homage to painter Makoto Fujimura. Several years later, I posted a photo of it to a web gallery. Upon seeing it, one of my collectors simply commented "Berimbau form." After a bit of googling, I found out that the berimbau is a musical instrument used in Capoeira, an Afro-Brazilian discipline combining martial arts, acrobatics, music and dance. Up unto that point, I had never heard the word. However, what I thought to be the "Makoto," was indeed a berimbau in disguise. Was it my intent to mimic the form found in the berimbau . . . ? Not at all--at least not consciously. Was the viewer wrong though in his interpretation of this piece . . . ? Absolutely not! The similarities are staggering, and in the end, the work is the work. I don't get to say what something is, or what it means, or where it came from. That task belongs to others.

The Berimbau

For Part 2, I will be discussing a piece I did several months ago, and asking some questions about its artistic merits. This piece has been called variously "odd," "brilliant," "hideous," and my favorite, "the result of a bad acid trip." Stay tuned.

Playing Catch Up

2010-01-06T08:54:00.000-08:00

I've really had my nose to the grindstone these past several months--finishing up commissions, making Christmas presents, caring for sick family members, hosting various pipemakers and aspiring pipemakers, attending to my honey-do list, interviews and photo shoots for P & T, the list goes on. With all that, I've not had much of an opportunity to post to my blog or even my twitter feed. My plan is to spend January updating my website, posting regularly to my blog, and twittering about my ongoing projects in the shop. In the mean time, here's a little update on what I've been doing for the past couple months. Here is a sampling of pieces completed in the latter months of 2009. I hope you enjoy. If you'd like to get regular updates but haven't signed up yet, please feel free to e-mail me. Thanks for a great 2009! Hope you all enjoy the photos.

Todd

This is a little nosewarmer blowfish with boxwood cap and a very thin sliver of mammoth ivory just because. When I was working with Lars one time, I asked him why he had capped a shank face with ivory when it would never be seen. He responded by saying simply, "This is just a way to say 'Lars was here also.'" I've heard it said that one definition of quality is that even the things you can't see are done well.

This is a very special Elephant's foot. Blocks that will give you both the proper grain orientation and a significantly long shank are one in a million. Pipemaking is always a collaborative effort with the raw materials one uses to create.

This is a piece I created while hosting pipemaker Charles Cole. He wanted to see the techniques required to create this effect. This is a beautiful piece of spalted maple, and it must be said that such a stem/shank treatment is necessarily an homage to my good friend, Jody Davis.

Simply put, this is, in my opinion, the best blowfish, and perhaps the best pipe, I've ever made. I shaped this during my interview with P & T magazine about a month ago. The ebonite rod required for the stem was about 3" in diameter!

These are the three smooth Christmas pipes for 2009. The stems are antique bakelite in Jade and Crimson.

This is a magnum Samurai Volcano, the last piece of 2009. I struggled to decide whether to blast this or keep it smooth. The growth rings on this pipe are so prominent that it would have been unreal if blasted. That said, obscuring grain like this would have been criminal.

An Ode to Bakelite

2009-09-09T08:47:00.000-07:00

Bakelite radio from the 1940's

I've always tried to be discerning about the materials I am willing to work with. I have turned down commissions where lucite stems were requested, and I tend to eschew the ornate--adornments, multiple stem flourishes, and pipe "jewelry" of any sort. I really prefer for line, shape, and proportion to do most of the talking, but recently I have become completely smitten by a "new" material . . . bakelite.

A beautiful translucent bakelite watch circa 1930

In actuality, though, bakelite is not new at all. It was invented in 1907 by a Belgian immigrant to the US named Leo Bakeland. In 1927, Bakeland's patent on the chemical composition of the material expired, opening the door to other manufacturers as well as myriad uses. In the 20's and 30's bakelite was used in the manufacture of records, cameras, telephone receivers, steering wheels and shift knobs, spectacles (that's what they called glasses way back when ), and any number of other products. Throughout the 40's, 50's and 60's it fed the American consumerist boom, employed in items such as poker chips, radios, children's toys, travel razors, electric irons, billiard balls, and especially jewelry. Because of its strength and beauty--it could easily be colored to suit any preference--bakelite began to replace steel and wood as the product of choice in numerous arenas. It was dubbed the "material of a thousand uses."

Bakelite bangles from the 40's. This shows the marvelous array of colors in which bakelite was produced.

Bakelite is now highly collectible with some mid-century radios fetching upwards of $10,000 USD. Despite its ubiquity throughout a fair portion of the 20th century, bakelite has become quite rare, and highly collectible. For my purposes--namely pipe stems and decorative rings--it is even more so. Sourcing antique bakelite rod can be very difficult. When you can find it, it is often cracked, occasionally inauthentic, and always obscenely expensive. It is also very difficult to work with. It gums up and dulls tools quicker than anything I've ever seen, and can be very difficult to bend. The color is unpredictable--the outside of the rod may be brown and the inside lilac--so you can't always know what you've got until you cut into it.

Despite all these drawbacks, however, I really love the stuff. Nothing else is as creamy and smooth when finished. It plays with light brilliantly, even the opaque material going slightly translucent at the edges. It also meets all of my criteria for inclusion on a high grade pipe--it is rare, expensive, requires great skill to work with, and has no equal amongst cheaper commercially available materials such as lucite. I've always been a sucker for things vintage, and bakelite is no exception. Look for much more of this beautiful material coming from my workshop.

Lovely hexagonal toffee bakelite stem on what I've dubbed the Machinist's Dublin

Blasted Matador with jade hemisphere saddle

An array of colors from ivory to deep green

Crimson and gold bakelite on this Deco-Fish

Playing with light, this seaweed bakelite stem goes translucent at its thinnest points.

Inspiration

2009-07-08T06:30:00.000-07:00

On the Mediterranean in Arma di Taggia, Italy

Inspiration can come from anywhere--nature, music, literature, art. For those who create, the world is a fascinating and inspiring place, fraught with new possibilities and new potential.

A view of the Tuscan countryside off the piazza at our villa, Rufena

The main house on the grounds at Rufena

As most of you know, I recently traveled to Italy for a party that my briar cutter Mimmo was throwing for his father Fillipo. It was great fun and I'll post photos and a rundown of things to my blog sometime later in the week. Before traveling to Taggia, though, we spent a week in Tuscany at a private villa owned by a friend. It's a 15th Century villa situated in the Chianti region and sits amidst acres and acres of pristine vineyards. Tiny villages dot the hillsides, and it is a region of rugged and pristine beauty like few places I've ever seen. The vistas from Rufena--as our villa has been called for at least a century--were simply remarkable. The air is perfumed by the sweet smell of lavender honeysuckle and rose bushes that look to be at last a hundred years old. It should come as no surprise then, that I was absolutely inspired . . . by one of the toilets!

Yes, it's true, the bathrooms had just been redone and one in particular incorporated very modern design elements into an otherwise classically Tuscan style. The bidet, specifically, had beautiful lines and I decided then and there to recreate it as a pipe. Is it a good idea to make known the humble sources of my inspiration for this piece? I don't rightly know, but I can only say I am very pleased with the way it turned out.

This piece is SOLD for $595USD

Evolution of a Calabash or Why High-Grade Pipes are Expensive

2009-04-20T07:51:00.001-07:00

Choosing a block

Laying out the pipe in the block by plotting the bowl diameter.

Ready to mount in the 2-jaw chuck.

Before turning the top of the bowl on the lathe, a ring needs to be made that will be inserted into the top of the bowl. The ring will serve as a "mortise" for the bowl insert.

The ring has been turned, polished, and cut off.

The briar portion of the bowl insert must now be turned.

Flipped around in the lathe, the tobacco chamber is now bored. I prefer to use a boring bit on the tool post rather than an S & D or spade bit in the tailstock. It creates a cleaner cut and I can control the wall thickness more easily by turning the outer profile of the bowl in accordance with the profile the chamber will have.

Here you see that the top of the bowl has been cut, a shoulder cut to receive the ring. The depth has to be precise so that the top remains flush.

Once the top of the bowl has been turned and the ring fit, everything else is done completely by hand. Here I'm beginning to shape the pipe on the 36 grit wheel.

The bottom profile is the first to emerge.

More material has been removed and the pipe is beginning to take shape.

The symmetry of the pipe must constantly be checked.

The pipe now has its final rough shape and is ready to be drilled.

Here I've already drilled the mortise and draft hole by hand. I will drill one small hole through the bowl where the expansion chamber will eventually be. This hole must intersect the draft hole precisely so that the expansion chamber can be routed out later.

At this point, the holes are connected, but the expansion chamber must be routed out by hand making sure to keep the wall thickness even and allow enough room for the bowl insert to slide in without touching the chamber at any point.

Here the expansion chamber has been completely routed out and is ready to receive the bowl insert.

Now the bowl insert must have a dome. For this piece, I've chosen Zebrawood.

The blank for the dome is roughed out on the shaping wheel so that it can be held in the lathe's 3-jaw chuck.

With the blank in the lathe, I can now turn the inset for the dome to receive the briar bowl. Note that it must have a small inset shoulder so that the collar on the bowl insert is inset rather than laying on the face of the dome's underside. Again, the measurements must be within a couple thousandths so that the bowl insert contacts the face of both steps.

Here's a close-up of the inset shoulder.

Now the briar insert can be dry fit into the Zebrawood.

At this point, a mandrel must be turned for the Zebrawood blank. It cannot be held in the chuck for turning. Items such as this mandrel are throw-away's. They are essentially one-off tools that have to be made during the creation process. Perhaps this will end up as a tool handle somewhere down the road, but it has no function with respect to the pipe itself.

Here the Zebrawood is mounted on the mandrel and can now be turned to shape, sanded, stabilized, sanded some more, and polished.

The 13/16" chamber diameter must be matched exactly and will be created with a plunge-cut from the tool post.

Here the dome has been turned to shape and the plunge cut is being made. If it is even a millimeter too large, the process has to start over again or the bowl insert will have a "step" when the two are joined.

The finished Zebrawood dome.

Here, the briar bowl insert, and Zebrawood dome are dry-fit into the Calabash stummel.

A close up of the three elements.

Now the stem must be cut. No "golden ratios" or exact measurements are used to determine the length of the stem. The best tool here is an experienced eye.

Here, the dome on the stem is turned, and the rod stock is drilled for its delrin tenon. It will also get a tapered draft hole at this point.

Here the blank is fitted to the stummel.

The stem has now been rough shaped on the 36 grit wheel.

Another shot.

Now the stem must be filed, sanded, and polished.

Here the fit is being tested.

Now the stummel is almost ready to be blasted. I never use tape to mask the top for the simple reason that an edge can pull up during the blasting process. This can ruin the finish of the entire piece. Instead, I turn a "plug" to insert into the expansion chamber and mask the top during the blasting process.

This is the "donut" that will fit down over the plug and protect the top of the pipe during the blasting process.

The finished plug--another "throw away."

Here's the pipe wearing its funny hat and with a delrin plug in the mortise. The shank will be refaced after the pipe has been blasted.

Before blasting, the pipe is taken down to 320 grit on the wheel.

Now its shank is polished and masked for stamping. Ready to blast!

Here the pipe has been blasted for depth.

Look at those rings!

Now it's time to cut the Zebrawood shank ring.

The ring also has to be sanded, stabilized, sanded again, and polished while on the lathe.

Here's a shot of the pipe with everything dry fit.

Here the pipe has been blasted for detail. Notice the way the rings stand out in sharp relief.

Now the stem is bent and the pipe takes its final shape.

The elements of the bowl will be fit together, adhered, and then finished.

Here the pipe has received its understain.

Note that the stem inserted into the pipe is just a handle.

Now the pipe receives its "overstain," a coat of black.

Another close up.

The top of the bowl is smooth and will be finished in high contrast.

After the black has been sanded off.

Now the lighter stain can go over top and the top can be polished and waxed.

The masking is removed and the pipe can now be stamped.

Here she is in all her glory.

Ring-grain anyone?

And another . . .

And one more for good measure.

And THAT is why high-grade pipes are expensive!

The Ultimate Cigar Mouthpiece

2009-04-02T07:30:00.000-07:00

About a year ago, Steve Morrisette showed me a new product he was offering. When I saw it, I thought it was a very stubby large diameter hand-cut stem for a pipe he was making. The intricacy of the pattern reminded me of something you might see from a tremendously skillful bowl turner; various types of exotic hardwood laminated together and turned seamlessly into a single beautiful object. This object, as it turns out, was the Ultimate Cigar Mouthpiece.

Since that time, I have seen a broad array of these UCM's as Steve calls them. He has even begun offering them in a new material called Chalazite, a beautiful, complex quilted sort of material that comes as close to mimicking natural stone as anything I've ever seen. It is simply beautiful. Not only are these beautiful, but they also preserve the integrity of the cigar much further into the stick. I consistently get another inch or two (depending on the size) out of my cigars by using the UCM. Steve tells me that he is taking orders, but has already managed to build quite a cache of them. I promise, though, it will be worth the wait! For more info, E-mail Steve (morrisettefoto@cox.net) or contact him through his website which will likely be going up later today.

UCM in Amber Chalazite

Tech-mology . . . Is it good or is it wack?

2009-03-30T12:42:00.000-07:00

This is one of my favorite Ali G segments, so I thought I'd post it in its entirety. You might be wondering what this has to do with pipes or pipemaking. I thought this would be a humorous way to put the word out on some impending technological advancements I'll be employing to stay better connected with my customers and to disseminate more information about what's going on in the shop. Keep an eye out, both at the site, and here on my blog for details. And to all you Homo sapiens out there . . . "Re-spec!"

Todd

Three Pipe Problem

2009-03-27T21:09:00.001-07:00

I've recently been working on a number of blowfish in the style of my Incubus shape. This is a shape I first conceived of sometime in 2005 and have made half a dozen them since. I think it pulls in many of the distinctive elements of my work while also paying homage to both my Danish and Japanese influences. I will likely put together a set of these for Chicago but, in the mean time, I'm just enjoying doing some variations on a theme. One of the things I find troubling about this shape, however, is that it exists as something of a complete composition even without the stem. That's all fine and good, except that every pipe has to have a stem . . . well at least if you want to smoke it. The problem is that most pipemakers I know really dislike cutting stems--including me--and it can produce something of a backlog.

The original Incubus Blowfish circa 2005

Right now, I've got three stems to cut before moving on to any more shaping or finishing. This is just another example of how pipe making is one part creativity and two parts discipline. The stems for these pieces will be quite fancy, but there is something about cutting stems that feels more like work than an act of pure creation. When you see the finished pipe in your mind's eye, the really interesting bit is concluded when the shape comes off the shaping wheel. From there, you're faced with sanding, filing, more sanding, a bit more filing, and, oh yeah, more sanding. I'm not complaining, it's a relaxing and contemplative process, but truth be told, I'd prefer to be shaping than cutting stems. So I suppose the only way to solve this "three pipe problem" is to cut three stems. So Monday morning, I shall set to work filing, and sanding, and scraping, and polishing, until I have solved my three pipe problem, and I have three lovely Incubi to show for my efforts.

Daaaamn, I need a haircut!

2009-03-18T21:00:00.000-07:00

Because we had a professional photographer with us the entire time, our entire trip to Reno and then Oregon was documented in great detail. Along with being a very talented up-and-coming pipemaker, Steve Morrisette is an unbelievable photographer. All of these shots are his . . . unless he's in them. In that case someone is doing the "teenage girls at Spring break" move where everyone clusters together while somebody holds the camera out with one arm and tries to get the shot in focus. It's probably Jeff as he has a penchant for such things. Do enjoy the photos.

Here we are relaxing in the room the night before the show. The East Tower rooms were really fantastic--just renovated. The West Tower rooms have teal or pink velvet bedspreads . . . no really.

This is actually the view out our hotel room window. Not bad.

In this shot, I'm just tightening the thumb screws on collector Mitch Michaelson. He wound up buying the pipe only after I offered to throw in the extra layer of undercoating for free.

Jeff and I approach pipemaking very similarly and have great respect for one another's work. He might even be the second best pipemaker in the US . . .

Brad in his signature eight panel cap and me in my recently acquired "mop." Brad actually has these custom made by a milliner in London. Mine is made in celebration of the fact that my days of straight razor shaves and custom tailored suits are in the past.

A snowy roller-coaster.

Mount Shasta

I try to keep things pretty sober, but the other guys are constantly engaging in some sort of tomfoolery. I'm not exactly sure what the hell we're doing here, but I'm confident it was someone else's idea.

In case space aliens ever decide to visit southern Oregon the owners of this lama farm have sent them these well wishes. The astute observer will also pick up on the subtle message of patriotism they're trying to send.

After about six hours of driving, we finally arrived at casa-Pohlmann.

Here, Jeff and I have set to work rearranging some of Brad's equipment for better efficiency. Please notice the floral china teapot in the foreground. We may be a coarse and rowdy bunch, but we're not about to have our tea from anything less than real porcelain.

In this shot, I've just told Brad he's no longer my first-best-friend, but has moved down the list to my second-best-friend. Clearly, he's incredulous.

One of the most important aspects of pipemaking is first creating the tools to do so with precision and efficiency.

Putting the final touches on our collective blowfish. After shaping, the piece will be marked and drilled.

In the South, beer and guns go together like biscuits and gravy. In southern Oregon, I guess they go together like petruli and power crystals.

Working on my contribution to a blowfish set that Jeff and I are putting together.

Brad smoking a Cuban while shaping a blowfish.

Jeff planning his attack on a little lathe-turned billiard.

Brad popped a vintage tin of Dunhill Mixture #10, a wonderful full English that has been out of production for a couple of decades. One of the great things about being friends with old folks like Brad and Steve is that you get to smoke tobacco older than you.

Damn . . . I need a haircut.

Carver's Colloquium

2009-03-16T05:33:00.000-07:00

Last weekend's Reno Pipe Show was, in my opinion, a resounding success. It brought out a number of top American carvers, some prominent (mostly west coast) collectors, and brought to light a truly first-rate venue for what I hope will be our next big annual pipe show. This first show was small and the organizers at Pipe Makers Emporium still seemed to be getting their sea legs, but it was a very well organized event that showed tremendous potential. There is talk of combining this show and Marty Pulvers' Las Vegas show next year. All I can say for those who missed it--and that's most of you-- is don't miss it next year.

It was a pleasure meeting new carver Charles Cole at the show.

In this picture, I'm drawing a cutaway of some spoon bits.

Now the primary reason I attended the Reno show was to enjoy the company of my good friends and fellow pipemakers, Jeff Gracik, Steve Morrisette, and Brad Pohlmann. Brad rolled out the red carpet for us at his ranch in southern Oregon, and we all gladly accepted. We left Sparks on Sunday morning and embarked on a beautiful journey north to casa Pohlmann. The scenic highlight of this trip was beautiful snow capped mount Shasta, captured in all its resplendent glory by Steve, who among other things is a professional photographer. I'll post some photos here when I receive them. No rush, Steve!

Upon our arrival we were greeted warmly by a menagerie of creatures ranging from horses to hens, Corgy's, a colossal canine the size of my own "best friend," and the most beautiful and delicate creature of all, Brad's daughter Brittney. I've been following Brittney in pictures since she was a wee lass, and seeing her for the first time as an accomplished and confident young woman was really a treat.

From here, we moved to the shop where the first order of business was some reorganization. We applied some Lean Systems implementation to Brad's already spacious and well-equipped shop to improve the flow of work and maximize productivity. The result was that all four of us could be working productively at the same time, in the same space, without a great deal of overlap.

The four of us in repose (From left to right, Jeff, Brad, Todd, and Steve)

We decided to focus our attention on two shapes, the billiard and the blowfish. The former is, at turns, both the simplest and most difficult shape to execute, and a requisite for any papemaker wishing to claim the title. The latter has become the new "benchmark" for a carver who wants to show mastery of shape creativity, etc. Unfortunately, it's also the most often butchered shape there is. It was for this reason that we set our sights on the two aforementioned shapes. The four of us are all at various points along the learning curve, and it was a great privilege to instruct and to learn from one another. Jeff and I, who work similarly, were able to impart a number of time-saving techniques to Brad and Steve, while all of us were able to learn from Brad's masterful employment of precision tooling. Steve, who is an up-and-comer in the world of high grade pipemaking, brought a fresh approach to the process that we "hardened veterans" always benefit from.

Offering Brad a shaping tutorial on the blowfish.

The few days that we spent toiling away in the shop were productive ones. We turned out a number of pieces, both individually and collaboratively. Jeff and I managed to complete 90% of a blowfish set which will be available in the coming week. I free-handed a long shanked lovat primarily to demonstrate the process, while Jeff shaped a wispy little featherweight billiard on the lathe.

Our collective three day output.

The highlight of our productive efforts, however, is this smooth blowfish which was created collaboratively. I did most of the shaping with Steve, while Brad and Jeff worked on the engineering--the alignment, drilling, countersink, etc. We each took our turn with the stem, and the final polishing was done, if I remember correctly, by Steve. The pipe turned out beautifully and bears all four of our stamps. It is going to be available for purchase later this week, and once photographed properly, it can be viewed on each of our sites.

The collective blowfish

All in all, this was a tremendous few days. It reminded me why I love doing this so much and offered a rare opportunity to share something so often done in solitude.

A New Breed of Fish

2009-03-04T20:00:00.000-08:00

I've recently been corresponding with a well known collector about doing a couple of blowfish that specifically reflect my "style." The blowfish is a shape I'm pretty comfortable with. I've probably made well over a hundred of them, and have developed a specific set of lines, contours and ratios that I try to incorporate in each piece.

There is something of a controversy over the name "blowfish." For Lars, the moniker refers to a bent Scoop with teardrop shank and an ivory or boxwood ring. What is now more typically called the "blowfish," Lars refers to simply as the "cross-grain," but I digress. Essentially, my own blowfish is a melding of Lars' crossgrain and the "fugu" blowfish I learned to make at the feet of Hiroyuki Tokutomi.

In this case, however, my intention is to move outside the parameters of those norms I typically allow to bracket my work, and create pieces which specifically reflect my own ideas about it. The problem is that so-called "original" iterations of this shape are often hideous flaccid-shanked monstrosities with more "fins" than a radiator, or worse yet, wagon wheels on a stick. I'm hoping to avoid both while still managing to breathe new life into the famed fish. In my opinion, I've done that with the piece below, but you know what they say; opinions are like . . . everybody's got one.

Scarlett Johansson vs. the Klingon

2009-03-02T11:52:00.000-08:00

I've been engaged in or following several recent discussions on pipe aesthetics, design principles, pricing, and the "obligations" of an aspiring carver. It may be worth mentioning that this post could be offensive to some. It is not intended as such, but if your sensibilities are delicate, or if you are typically engaged in acts of self aggrandizement, you may wish to hit the "back" button and pretend this entry does not exist.

To aspiring carvers, let me say this. Aesthetics, especially in the realm of crafted objects, is not purely subjective and "beauty" is not strictly "in the eye of the beholder." We are all wired in a particular way to "see" certain things--things like symmetry, balance, continuity, etc. I'm not suggesting, for instance, that a smooth pipe is more beautiful than a blasted one, or even that a Chonowitsch is necessarily more beautiful than a Stanwell. What I am suggesting is that a pipe can be, more or less, objectively ugly, ill formed, or poorly designed. I know. I have handled many such pipes and made some over the years as well.

To use an exaggerated example, let's take someone who is very collectively viewed as beautiful, Scarlett Johansson, and contrast her with a Star Trek klingon:

Scarlett Johansson

Klingon

Now my guess is that only a few would find the Klingon more attractive than Miss Johansson--or even attractive at all, for that matter. The only real point of this admittedly extreme example is that we are generally wired to recognize beauty in the same things. That does not mean that everyone will always agree--otherwise aesthetics would be objective rather than collective, and clearly they are not. I've recently made this argument on a web forum that I post to. Below I've summarized my response to the suggestions that A) "beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and B) if someone buys a pipe that means it must have been well made.

_______________________________________

"Yes, there is a subjective element to design, but there is also an objective element that nobody seems willing to talk about. Since the "golden ratio" has been brought up, I will use that as an example, though Scarlett Johansson may work just as well.

Many of the objects in nature that are almost unanimously regarded as beautiful employ this ratio. The word "employ" isn't exactly right since there is no intentionality with a flower, it just is, and it is beautiful. The translation is that our brains are hard wired to regard certain things as beautiful for reasons having to do with everything from biology to socialization. "Tastes" change, but there are constants--like the way that one line relates to another, or the repetition of certain curves, or the constant gradient increase/decrease in thickness or diameter along an arc.

Now unless your trained to see (and speak) that way, you don't see something and say "the diameter of that flower's filament decreases regularly and gradually along an implied arc and therefore I find it pleasing." Instead, your brain puts this together and basically just informs you that the flower is pretty.

I would argue that it is little different with a pipe. You see it, and you know instantly that it is beautiful. In most cases, this is because the lines move in harmony together, the arcs are regular, the design is cohesive, everything "works." Your brain processes all that data and just sends the signal "beautiful" to your conscious mind. Yes, people can respond differently to the same stimuli, but let's remember Scarlett and the Klingon.

The other point I want to respond to is that "the market" has something to say about "success" in design. The market is a factor, but not an especially reliable one. The reason is that there are so many other factors playing into a decision to purchase something that it can't be boiled down to "these pipes sell because they are beautiful and well formed."

All you've got to do is look on eBay at the bidding wars that occasionally take place over some truly heinous creations. When this happens--and especially when it's a new/newer carver--I think the wrong message is actually sent. One thing I know to be true is that the ugliest, most ill formed pipes I have ever made have sold. It's bad, I know, but the market cannot always be relied upon either to reward excellent design, or to punish poor design. Those of us who make pipes for a living, who have to have a trained eye, and who depend on that eye to help us bring excellent pipes to market, have pretty consistent opinions on which carvers have really got "chops" and which carvers have just managed to find some particular sub-segment of a niche market to sell to. No one talks about it publicly, but if you get in a room with five professional pipemakers, they will quickly distinguish between makers who know how to carve pipes, and makers who have simply found some way to sell pipes. Generally speaking, I consider it a more legitimate indicator of design success to be included amongst the former. If marketability were always an indicator of excellence in one's craft, we wouldn't have to endure so many bad movies and so much terrible music. I'm not even sure Starbucks would exist! But I digress. Suffice it to say, "someone bought it" is NOT a suitable answer to the questions 'was it beautifully made? Was it an excellent design? Was it well executed?'"

____________________________________

I realize this may not be the most popular opinion, but I think it's necessary information for any aspiring professional pipe carver. Too often, I think a new carver is given a false sense of his abilities by a few early sales. Collectors jump to be the first on the Carver X bandwagon and end up damaging the carver in the process. If a carver is not allowed to develop somewhat organically without a would-be "taste maker" pushing his wares to all their collecting buddies, the carver will usually A) burn out fast and bright, or B) never fully develop to the level he aspires to.

Early in my pipemaking career and after some early "successes"--by which I mean sales--I sold a pipe to Toren Smith, a very acquisitive and important collector at the time. When he received the pipe, he simply told me it was not up to standard, especially for the $300+ price tag. He wouldn't say more in an e-mail, preferring to critique the pipe in person when we saw one another at an upcoming pipe show. When we did, Toren systematically and very matter-of-factly obliterated this pipe as the ill-formed, improperly engineered, lump that it was. This is, perhaps, the most important thing that ever happened to me as an aspiring pipemaker--complete unadulterated failure. So I picked up the pieces of my shattered pride, went back home and set to work at bringing my pipes to the point I thought they were already at. The following year, this finicky uber-critic proceeded to buy about a dozen of my pipes. That first failure and rejection hurt, but without it I would likely have been satisfied with the mediocrity I had achieved.

A New Schule

2009-02-20T09:10:00.000-08:00

I will start by saying that I credit my own teachers--especially Tom Eltang--for taking the time to help me develop my skills some ten or so years ago. This is not a process that took place over the course of an afternoon or weekend, but rather several years. Because of Tom's generosity, I feel and have felt a sense of obligation to share my own expertise with other aspiring carvers. Over the years, I've had the pleasure of working with and helping to supplement the skill sets of some very talented carvers, including Jeff Gracik, Brad Pohlmann, Adam Davidson, and Steve Morisette. These are guys who desperately wanted to learn, and to create. All of them had aspirations of becoming professional carvers--actually moving from hobbyists to working artists, and I would affirm that this is fundamentally different than simply wanting to make a few nice looking pipes each year.

Two rusticated Cutties. This is the first shape Tom ever taught me to make.

Love Geiger, a Swedish pipemaker who himself made his way from talented hobbyist to full-time professional recently said this about the journey.

" I believe that if you are serious about making pipes and really learning you will seek the live advice of a professional, by one on one interaction or spending the cash to visit them..

In this time we don't have the luxury of real apprenticeship, but just visiting a maker you look up to for a day or a few hours will grant so much more and give you a feeling what it takes and is like making pipes for a living.

So many have romantic dreams of "making it" and living off selling their smokable art but more have failed than succeeded in this, because it isn’t easy even with natural talent ect.
It requires discipline, luck, good connections and living on a tight budget for years for most of us. And even then there are no guarantees.

The sooner one gets a feeling of how it really is like " living with pipes" behind the glamour and $1000+ pipes they can set their goal on what level they would like to achieve and what they want to get out of it..Frustration and poverty is no fun... having a good hobby can be much more rewarding for most..

I know of very few if any professionals who have not in some way at some point visited other more experienced makers to learn.. I've done so a few times and intend to do so again as for me it is so inspiring and a kick in the butt to get productive.

Personally it took me 3 years of fooling around in the shop and wasting money on the "wrong" tools and methods before I finally did and even if it might cost you a plane ticket in the long run money could be saved.. "

I think there's great wisdom in what Love has to say here. Being a real live working artist is not easy. Those who imagine otherwise are simply delusional. It is a great blessing to make a living doing something that you love, but it requires sacrifice, often financial sacrifice, and far more dedication than most ever imagine. It also requires great skill, a very keen eye, and an understanding--innate or developed--of fundamental design principles. If you want to make pipes successfully you're going to have to develop these skills. This is not something that happens overnight, and it is not something that can happen simply by poking around on internet bulletin boards.

New pipemakers are "made" by older pipemakers, not by self-important collectors, not by eBay, and not by themselves. In the Presbyterian church, an individual with a call to ministry is said to be "under the care" of his/her presbytery. This is a process that ensures an individual is provided with the necessary care, encouragement, wisdom, and example to succeed. I would advocate a similar model for aspiring pipemakers, and encourage other established pipemakers to engage in the process as tutors.

Pipemaking is a dying art. In the past decade we have lost Sixten Ivarsson, Bo Nordh, and Jorn Micke. Poul Rasmussen has been gone for many years now. More recently Peter Hedegaard has died. Much of what is known and passed on about pipemaking lies in the hands and heads of masters who have been taught by masters. The only way for that knowledge to continue is to train new masters, and to that I am resolutely committed.

Pure Joy

2009-02-11T15:52:00.000-08:00

Eleanor Katherine Johnson

Born January 27, 2009

7lbs. 2 0z.

20 1/4" long.

Renewing America

2009-01-20T13:15:00.000-08:00

Today is, by all accounts, an historic day. Within a single generation of the Civil Rights struggle, and only three generations removed from the shameful convention of slavery and oppression, we installed today a "black" man as the President of the United States, in many ways unraveling the threads from that cloak of racism draped over so much of of America's history. Today, for the first time in a very long time, I am proud to be an American. For those of us who cast our votes for Obama, and supported his campaign both with our time and our resources, this is the culmination of our efforts and the realization of our hopes. Certainly there are those less inclined toward President Obama's views and policies, and to them I would suggest that this is a time for celebration, not of anyone's particular politics, but of our potential as a nation to move beyond race and realize the dream of another great American prophets wherein each man is judged by the content of his character. My prayer for our new president is that he would be a man of strong character promoting such policies as would bring about greater equity and justice, that would support life in all its forms, that would enjoin us to be better stewards of our planet, better neighbors, that would affirm the dignity of every person, ban torture, and advocate for the de-escalation and eventual banishment of nuclear weapons from the Earth.

Only time will tell if Mr. Obama, now President Obama, will lead us down that path toward a more perfect union, but today is not so much about that. Today is about what we--"we the people"--have done in nominating a man who, only a generation ago could not walk into a public restroom, as our 44th president. That is an historic event, and I have chosen to mark it in my own little way, with a very special pipe to commemorate the day. Few probably know this, but President Obama's father was a pipe smoker, so clearly the man comes from good stock.

Barack Obama's father puffing on a nameless bulldog.

This piece, not unlike President Obama, is both "black" and "white." It is a somewhat more contemporary take on an otherwise very classical shape. The blast is deep and well defined if somewhat unpredictable. It does not entirely conform--it is not exactly a cross grain nor exactly a ring grain--but has the best elements of both. Overall, this is a very handsome and well-formed piece. It will look great with a suit, but will also be right at home being smoked on the back deck. Finally, while this piece is very symmetrical, following the line along the shank and stem, it does perhaps list just slightly to the left.

This pipe is SOLD.

Thirty

2009-01-15T12:14:00.000-08:00

I turn 30 today. Aside from being, perhaps, a bit more pensive, I don't feel any different. I've heard tales from friends about weeping and gnashing of teeth, breakdowns, realizations of mortality, and the like. For me, 30 just seems to be a part of life. In a lot of ways I feel like I'm finally old enough to be doing some of the things I've been at for a while now, making pipes, having children, teaching. A very good friend of mine who regularly meets with high level political figures--members of the Obama administration for instance--remarked that, at 30, he now feels old enough to take himself as seriously as others in his profession always have.

I suppose I've had a single profound moment in the last couple of weeks. Sitting at my work table, leaning back in repose after having finished a particularly complex pipe, I looked down at my hands and noticed that they seem a bit weathered, somewhat rough. I have my dad's hands with long slender fingers and pronounced knuckles, a ten inch hand span from thumb to pinkie. When I was a boy I remember how his hands swallowed mine, and how they always felt so tender despite being calloused. They often had grease under the nails, or cuts from some minor mishap with a tool. They're now spotted from the sun, and his knuckles even more pronounced from age. He's still got the simple gold wedding band on his left ring finger--the exact same band I chose when I was married seven years ago. With those hands he spanked me somewhat less often, and hugged me far more often than I probably deserved. With those same hands he taught me how to use my own, to create with them what I can see in my mind's eye.

So the other day, I looked down at those hands and thought about the story that they tell--the faint dimpled scar from my wrist surgery, the indention in my ring finger from a wedding band I never remove, the fingernails kept impossibly short with almost religious fervor. In my thirty years, these hands have made hundreds of pipes, held grab-bars on subways from New York to Pragu, cut two umbilical cords, built hundred-thousand-dollar cars, cooked Thanksgiving dinner for fifty, shaped furniture for my wife and children, dragged down a number of, now, professional athletes, picked everything from strawberries to tobacco, plunged $100K+ cars into sharp turns, made the sign of the cross innumerable times, received an Ivy League degree, joyfully passed food and friendship to those less fortunate, built houses and barns, held ancient papyrus manuscripts, bandaged scraped knees, cut thousands of feet of steel, touched the Rosetta Stone, sewn everything from baby blankets to streetrod interiors, changed a million diapers, swallowed the hands of my own two little boys, and held the same beautiful girl for some thirteen years. I told that same beautiful girl today that I simply don't feel the need to have a midlife crisis. I've lead a full life at 30, and could not be more thankful for the things and the people, and the places that God has allowed these hands to touch. So I think I'll forestall any "midlife" shenanigans until I'm at least 60.

"Bo Nordh Briar"

2009-01-07T11:53:00.000-08:00

Erica Arborea, or "white heath" is the scientific name for what we all commonly refer to as briar. Having become close friends with Domenico Romeo (Mimmo), the man behind Romeo Briar I have become something of a student of this noble plant.

I've gone into the mountains to harvest the burl, cut it at the saw--perhaps the most frightening power tool currently in existence on planet Earth--and watched the entire process take place from tree to finished pipe. Mimmo and I have even worked together on the creation of some new cuts that lend themselves to particular shapes. I guess I say all of that to establish some credibility before making a brief rant on a current trend I've observed.

Recently a number of finished pipes by makers other than Bo, have been advertised as having been created from "BO NORDH BRIAR!" Now I don't begrudge anyone their marketing ploys, but occasionally, I think tactics need to be identified as just that, marketing ploys. By that I mean simply that there is nothing particularly special or different about the late master's briar to distinguish a pipe having been made from it as special. Having been to Bo's shop, having seen and held the famed briar myself, I can tell you that it is just briar. It comes from several different mills, and was collected over quite a number of years, not unlike the briar in any accomplished pipemaker's shop.

If the idea, however, is that Bo Nordh was an icon in the community and therefore something owned by the master himself has sentimental value--or perhaps for some even spiritual value--that is quite a different thing. That would make the briar no different really than a pair of Bo's socks, or one of his handkerchiefs which may function as a nice talisman, but it won't affect how a pipe smokes. This is simply another way of perpetuating the mythos of briar.

Now this is not to say all briar is created equal and that a $60 block is no different than a $6 block. It is very different, and much depends on the cutter, his knowledge of the wood, and his ability to see inside it based on factors such as color, growth ring pattern, visible inclusions in the burl's skin, and ultimately his selectivity. So to sum things up, it is possible to buy crap-briar, decent briar, good briar, and exceptional briar. I'm sure all of Bo's was exceptional . . . but it was not magic.

How long, O LORD

2009-01-06T07:32:00.000-08:00

The passing of one year into another rarely hits me with great effect. This year, however, has been a bit more profound. In brief, 2008 has been brutal for many of those I hold dear. In the past 12 months, I've seen few births and many deaths, financial ruin, miscarriage, mental breakdowns, physical ailments, cancer, infidelity, sorrow dashed hopes, injustice, strife, enmity--a catalogue of afflictions within my community that seems almost biblical. When asked to toast the year I came up with only this: To 2008; May it pass without memory and die like a man with no heir to carry forward his name.

The prophet Habakkuk once asked

How long, O LORD, will I call for help,

And You will not hear?

I cry out to You, "Violence!"

Yet You do not save.

Why do You make me see iniquity,

And cause me to look on wickedness?

Yes, destruction and violence are before me;

Strife exists and contention arises.

Therefore the law is ignored

And justice is never upheld.

For the wicked surround the righteous;

Therefore justice comes out perverted.

The Creator's standard response to such a lament tends to be something like "Can man fathom the ways of God?"--an explanation of suffering and injustice which I, like many others, find wholly inadequate. The authors and compilers of my favorite piece of holy writ, 4 Ezra (2 Esdras) felt the same.

Written around 100 C.E., after the destruction of their holy Temple, and several decades of brutal Roman oppression, 4 Ezra is typically read as consolation for Israel's people. The usual reading suggests that God's people are to take comfort in the fact that their oppressors will be stamped out and wiped from the earth, that the righteous shall be vindicated and sorrow will cease, but I read it differently.

4 Ezra is a "sendup" of similar such texts that are meant to console in this way. Basically, throughout the text, Ezra, the protagonist visionary, has a series of conversations with the angel Uriel. Ezra wants to know why God has allowed the Jewish people to be laid waste and enslaved. Uriel gives him a series of Yoda-like responses, typified by the recurring phrase "do you think you can comprehend the way of the Most High," but Ezra's not having it.

When the Angel Uriel replies to Ezra's questions with a koan about trees making war against the waves, and the sea rising up against the forrest, Ezra basically says, "I didn't ask you about trees and waves. Give me an answer to my question!"

Chapter 4
[23] For I did not wish to inquire about the ways above, but about those things which we daily experience: why Israel has been given over to the Gentiles as a reproach; why the people whom you loved has been given over to godless tribes, and the law of our fathers has been made of no effect and the written covenants no longer exist;
[24] and why we pass from the world like locusts, and our life is like a mist, and we are not worthy to obtain mercy.
[25] But what will he (God) do for his name, by which we are called? It is about these things that I have asked."

I admire Ezra's courage and forthrightness, and the same questions that once plagued the Hebrew people, plague many of us now.

"Where were you when I laid the foundation's of the world," God says.

"No, God! Where were you when a drunk driver took my wife and my daughter from me? Where were you when money intended for sick children was gobbled up by an evil man full of greed and lust? Where were you when my husband left me for someone else, when my mind failed me, when a baby died inside my womb? Where were you when a bomb landed on my house, when cancer was growing in my body?"

But to leave it here would not suffice, because the sum of our days is not only sorrow and lament, but also joy, also hope. Barren wombs are filled again with life, infirmities are healed, love for a self-indulgent former spouse is replaced by the unselfish love of a new one. Houses are rebuilt, fortunes are remade, and the memory of those who have left this world carry us on into the next.

So we ask again, and this time, with a quieter voice, God replies, "My child, I am making all things new." And despite the many sorrows I've shared with those I love over the course of this past year, I can testify to that fact. I'll end this little piece of theodicy by providing a link to one of my favorite releases from 2008, Thad Cockerel's EP To Be Loved. Aside from its pure and simple beauty, it has also been a great comfort to me this past year. Thad writes and sings "The troubles of this world will wither up and die. That river of tears cried by the lonely some day will be dry." And it will . . .

You can listen to and download To Be Loved here.

http://www.myspace.com/thadcockrell

Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

2008-12-30T14:51:00.000-08:00

There is a great deal of debate between so called "smokers" and "collectors" about what a pipe's true purpose is. The former designate it as a humble tool, something that is intended to combust tobacco, nothing more. The latter generally prefer that, as well as functioning efficiently as a tool, the pipe also look beautiful and have a certain je ne sais quoi, if you will. For some collectors, the fact that a pipe has the ability to perform a task, to operate as a tool by burning tobacco, is purely secondary or perhaps even inconsequential.

This, I would argue, is the point at which art and craft merge. Were the maker to take any less care in engineering the piece efficiently as a tool, the piece would be significantly diminished and would move from being the highest expression of its form to a mere object, a thing. If, for instance, a pipe did not have a draft hole, it would, in many ways, cease to be a "pipe." This is why, in any given medium, it is important to operate within certain parameters. With the bounds of the expression limited, the artist/craftsman must call upon increasingly greater skill and creativity in order to articulate something extraordinary. Necessity, as they say, is the mother of invention.

One needs only to think of Sixten's skillful use of bamboo during the war. Briar was not being exported from italy, there was a limited amount, and blocks were cut in half to stretch the supply. Since pipes need shanks--though one can point to exceptions for this--Sixten engineered a beautiful, elegant, and ultimately successful expression of "the pipe," using bamboo instead of briar for its shank. By moving outside the general principles of pipe aesthetics yet staying within the confines of what properly constitutes a pipe, Sixten elevated the expression of form within the medium, "pipe."

For those of us that hope our work will be judged to have done likewise, the boundaries of expression are not a static force, but a malleable set of principles whose governance we submit to willingly. In the end, the artist works collaboratively with such boundaries in order to elevate the craft.

For my own part, I care little if a pipe is smoked or simply admired as a functional object. Over the years, I have created multi-thousand-dollar pipes that I knew would never see a flame, and others that, to my delight are smoked on a very regular basis. To my mind, a pipe's "true purpose" is not necessarily fulfilled when it is smoked, but when it is enjoyed.

Zeh Piiiipes!

2008-12-30T11:35:00.000-08:00

Many of you have recently asked "Now that you're back making pipes . . . where are the pipes!" The answer to that is that I've been catching up on some orders, working on some new techniques, and not putting a whole lot into the open market right now. For those of you who'd like to see some photos of recent work--including several available pieces--here ya' go. If you'd like to be added to the mailing list, or have questions about the available pieces, please drop me a line and let me know. Soon, I'll add pieces to the newly redesigned Todd-M-Johnson website, where there will be space for many more photos of each piece. Please note that pieces are marked "Available" below and not above their corresponding photos. Stay tuned for more.

Swoop-tailed Blowfish

SOLD

Christmas Calabash (Phalanx Grade)

Conoid Blowfish with floating saddle stem (Phalanx Grade)

Long-Shanked Egg

SOLD

Shigeru Acorn

SOLD

Matador

Blasted Origami with hippo tooth

Blasted Blowfish

Blasted Peewit

Blasted Scoop with Ivory (1.2 oz.)

Samurai Volcano

Blasted Dublin with black and white Ebony (1.0 oz.)

Blasted Blowfish with Cumberland stem (.9 oz.)

Smooth Blowfish (Hoplite)

Straightgrain Freehand (Hoplite)

Good to be a Pipemaker

2008-12-19T09:05:00.000-08:00

For the last couple of months, I've been working my way back into a regular "shop-routine." It's been some time since I was able to string together more than about two consecutive half-days in here. Thankfully, I'm now able to wake up on the third story, walk down to the second story to have breakfast with my wife and kids, and then commute to work on foot, down the steps to the first story where my shop is located. This is a hell of a lot better than fighting traffic across town to get to my office where I was responsible for 17 people and all of their problems. My time as a big-shot executive taught me a great deal. It taught me that we're all capable of accomplishing far more than we think, that dealing justly with others does not guarantee just treatment for oneself, that I'm more present as a husband and a father when my mind is not racing to institute new marketing strategies, and that I would prefer to limit my time in custom tailored suits to several hours each Sunday.

With this transition back into pipe making, the pace of life is slowing down. What's ironic is that I couldn't see just how frenetic it had become until I was viewing it in retrospect. Now I split wood each morning instead of fielding calls and e-mails on my Blackberry. Instead of stopping at Starbucks--Lord, do they make bad coffee--and ordering a medium dark roast in a giant cup so that it wouldn't slosh out and spill in my fancy car, I sit and enjoy an entire pot of French-press before ever picking up a block. I always knew that I would come back to pipemaking. I just didn't realize what a huge part of my life it was. More so, I didn't realize what a part of our family life it was. Both of my boys, Cooper (4) and William (2) spend the better part of their day pretending either to be Firemen or pipemakers. They visit me in the shop, stoke the fire, put on my respirator and sweep up wood shavings.

In brief, I'm able to keep far better company these days. I love to listen to them running around upstairs, Mom chasing after them, all of it ending in a huge pile of thuds and laughter just above me in the living room. Nowadays, I'm always home for lunch, I never spend time stuck in traffic, and I can ignore Tennessee's laws about a smoke-free workplace. To quote my friend Tom Eltang, "It's good to be a pipemaker."