Good Reads: Never Have Your Dog Stuffed

A few weeks ago a coworker at my "day job" foisted a couple of books on me. She used the old line "You'd really like these," and I ended up with them, obligated to read and, of course, report that I liked them. I love reading; books are my favorite method for escaping my own life (which, despite my own better judgment, I still seem to be trying to do). Yet, I am always wary of books given to me by others. Like the kid at the lunch table who gives away his dessert without bargaining for it, I have to wonder what is wrong with it. It's clearly not your prize treasure because you are willing to risk handing it to me. There's also this freaky thing: I feel like I am peering into your skull when I read what you read.

Hesitations aside, I picked up Never Have Your Dog Stuffed the biography of Alan Alda (M*A*S*H star "Hawkeye") today and have gotten about halfway through. He's funny, quirky, intelligent and I think we share a similar disregard for other peoples' rules. So far it sounds like he'd do just about anything to follow his dream of being an actor. That's something I admire. The biggest difference between us seems to be that, at the age of twenty something, he still had that feeling of invincibility that only toddlers and lunatics seem to be able to muster. He never grew out of it, I suppose, and I doubt I ever had it. This whole "making it on your own as an artist" thing scares the crap out of me!

I am engrossed in figuring out how he managed to stay so insanely confident of success. I have been told before that learning about other artists is helpful to my own success, but it never really occurred to me to REALLY try until I met this HUGE ego of Mr. Alda's in his book. I suppose I'll let you know how the dissection of his words go. In the meantime, I am curious; what keeps the fear monster at bay for you when you want or need to accomplish a daunting task? I'd love to hear how other people operate.

Nee-ner-nee-ner!

DON’T BLEED ON THE WOOD!



Carved Lintel for Community Center Project

Some years ago, following my urge to cut carve and gouge, I became one of a group of apprentices participating in a Community Center Carving Project.    The group project was led by George Norris, a celebrated artist, sculptor and carver.   I longed to learn carving from a master and our task was to carve intricate details in yellow cedar posts which would serve as broad wooden lintels for doorways placed throughout the Community Center.  Before we were allowed to work on the lintels we were required to do a series of carving exercises on a block of wood. Once we learned and completed the exercises of carved wood patterns and George felt we were capable, we could then work on the yellow cedar posts.  George shared many insights with the group, from his rich career of carving, among which was an important lesson:  Don’t bleed on the wood as it penetrates the grain.  Unfortunately there is only one way to remove blood stains from wood and that is by removing the blood stained area, hence the wood itself. 

Blood Stained Number 7 Carving Tool

I learned this important lesson by experience while blood spurted wildly from a hand wound, caused by my ineptness with a lethal weapon aka “the number seven carving tool”.  I mention that it was a number seven so that anyone who is aware of carving tools can appreciate how hazardous this tool can be in the hands of a beginner. 

 

Anyone who can’t imagine the damage that it can cause may want to check out my scar, a rather large one, to validate this.

My Carving Exercise Block

As you might imagine I yelped a little when I stabbed my own hand, drawing the attention of the master carver who quickly came to my side to observe, not my wound, but the yellow cedar post where I had unknowingly leaked some blood. 

 

While I staunched the flow of blood as best I could, George quickly drew up a plan to remove the bloodied wood and in haste created an altered carving design to accommodate the removal of the bloodstain. 

 

There was no denying that my bloody wound came second to the importance of the lintel being carved. 

 

Artists and artisans often recall with fondness the words of wisdom from a mentor and for me the words I remember most fondly as my first words of professional advice were - DON’T BLEED ON THE WOOD!

Author:  Trish (BlackCrowCurios)

Link to George Norris Artist: http://app.vancouver.ca/PublicArt_net/ArtistDetails.aspx?ArtistID=86&ArtworkType=ALL&Neighbourhood=ALL&Ownership=ALL&Program=ALL

 

What words of wisdom do you recall from a mentor?

Explanation of a Funny Word: Scrimshaw

Sometimes life takes you places that you would rather have not been. Like knife shows. But sometimes, at said knife shows, you discover something really cool. Like scrimshaw. (Then you feel a little squirm of guilt for having whined about going, even if you only whined to yourself.) Anyway, I got hooked on the stuff and only later found out that 80% of the planet has no idea what scrimshaw is. I get a lot of questions about it, so I thought it might be nice to give a little history and context to the jewelry I make.

This is traditional scrimshaw: 

Photo credit: The John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum

 It's a very old art form, not much used anymore, but kept alive in little pockets. The basic technique involves you, a piece of animal tooth or bone, a pointy object, and a LOT of spare time. So, scrimshaw was a perfect pass-time for bored sailors. It was practiced by Inuit and other Native cultures, but the most elaborately drawn (that I've seen) were often from sailors on long voyages. Whalers had literally tons of bones lying around and months or years of boredom on a boat. So they doodled with their knives and rubbed soot from lamps or grease into the tiny detailed drawings to create very fine black and cream colored designs. Many of the illustrations were from books, if books were available. If you are at all familiar with old intaglio prints, you'll notice a similarity in the illustration style and the use of lines and dots to create light and dark areas.

Teeth, and the long curved bones in the head were some of the most prized parts
to scrimshaw because of their generous size and shape.

Portraits of ladies were popular, (Perhaps it was like having company?) as were ships like the one above. Nautical imagery was most prevalent. Sailors carved tools and personal items from the bones and then decorated them with scrimshaw. From the sailors, scrimshaw spread inland, to household decorations, ladies toiletries, and men's weapons and powder horns, and to other shores as well.

As for the origin of scrimshaw, I've read many accounts of the skill developing among the whalers of New England whose voyages could last as long as 4 years. I've also heard that sailors such as these learned the techniques from the native peoples, such as the Inuits, during long winters. These two links below, especially the first, give a fuller account of the origins and some of the unanswered questions:

1. http://www.hopscrimshaw.com/about/scrimhistory.htm
2. http://explorenorth.com/library/yafeatures/bl-scrimshaw.htm

Today, "scrimshanders" have evolved the technique and medium further. They often illustrate exotic animals and have added vibrant colors to the traditional black, thanks to great pigments and paints. Abstract or "tribal" patterns have become popular, and just about anything is fair game for subject matter. Illustration styles have strayed from the traditional in several places (including my own). I've also heard of scrimshaw being worked into surfaces such as fine micarta and plastics/resins as well as traditional ivories.

In case you're wondering where I fit in: My scrimshaw is done in a much simplified line-drawing style using colored pencils and sealing waxes. I love botanical motifs and use mainly wooly mammoth and walrus ivories as surfaces for scrimshaw. [These are entirely legal, you know. Please don't think I'm doing something naughty. Despite the art's bloody history, today's scrimshanders are very careful about our materials' histories.] I have tried cow bone, pig bone, and deer antler and bone as well, with varying degrees of success. The long, flat ends of cow's ribs are surprisingly useful. The porosity and hardness of a substance is a large factor in how clearly an image works out. Denser pieces that are not too soft are better for precise drawings.

I'll leave you with a fun fact. While no one knows the exact origin of the word "scrimshaw," it appears to have been from either Dutch or English and the general meaning was "to waste time." Originally, anything that a sailor did on his off-duty hours was called scrimshaw. Most of your free time as a sailor aboard a whaling ship probably involved whale bone in some way, however. Maybe you made tools, cane handles, and other items that could be sold when you eventually got back to port. Maybe you put on puppet shows. Whatever you did, you were all scrimshanders.

 That's all from me for a while. I hope that if you have any questions, you ask them!

-Rachel C