Knifemaking: mistakes, tedium, pizza ovens, and the Cynewulf

December 9, 2015December 16, 2015 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

“I’m not exactly sure what we’re doing here, so we’re going to figure this out by denial and error”

Frederick Pritchett, Jr.

I spent two years working in the warehouse of an auction company. They specialize in used restaurant equipment. All aspects, from tables and chair, mixers, slicers, refrigeration, the whole lot. I kind of fell into this job and ended up managing the inventory and auctions. But before that there was a lot of grease, dirt, rust, and burnt pizza…

A couple years ago I was in a tough place and I needed money. A good friend of mine said I could come work for his auction company. One of the first things they put me on was cleaning three commercial smokers. They had spent three months festering in a hot warehouse and smelled of what I believe a sauna full of garbage trucks eating month old Vietnamese food would resemble.

It was here that I met Fred. As I stood there with three stinking smokers, pondering my life’s decisions, the service tech came by and told me the best way to get those clean was to mix some bleach and ammonia together in a spray bottle and shake it till it got hot (“But don’t hold on to it for too long or it’s liable to explode”). Then I was to saturate the interior, let it sit in the sun, and then hit it with the pressure washer that got up to two hundred degrees. All while not breathing in the fumes.

I did all of these things and sure enough they got clean. I hated myself a little bit.

The main thing I learned working here was that there are many ways to get things done. Some ways are less insane than others, but then sometimes life calls for the insane. Sometimes the insanity is all relative.

I also learned that in any sort of business one has to adapt to what makes money. If that doesn’t happen then you’re dead.

One of the owners is second generation Italian and as it would follow many of the company’s customers were Italian. They liked to support one of their own. For awhile there were a lot of Italian restaurants opening up and these gentleman required pizza ovens. Pizza ovens are heavy, expensive, and take up a lot of space. Pizza stones for a double deck oven will set you back at least $600 and if not properly seasoned will crack or break. It was decided that we would rebuild used ovens.

Here is where the adaptation of making a profit and the insane got together for a tumultuous marriage. At first. After awhile things settled in. Fred was at the helm of this operation and we all moved bravely forward.

The first step was obtaining a used pizza oven. We travelled far and wide. One time Fred and I did a marathon drive to a closed restaurant in Florida, extracted a 3,000lb set of Baker’s Pride ovens, threw them on a trailer, and drove back. Fred is really good at moving heavy things and makes it look effortless: I’m pretty sure his ancestors built Stonehenge using nothing but Druid redneck ingenuity and several barrels of barley wine.

We would then strip it down to nothing. Exterior paint was taken off and everything was sanded. Everything. For a solid month we cleaned out every Home Depot within a 20 mile radius of most of their abrasives. Figuring out how to get the exterior paint off was tricky at first. Stripping the paint off the first oven we did was a bitch. First we tried a blowtorch. A pretty big one. It didn’t work that well and made everyone smell of burnt pizza. Then we tried every sort of angle grinder attachment known to the universe. There was no quick way to do it. All of the inner structural pieces had to be sanded as well. Somebody would have to put on a paper suit and climb into the behemoth and sandblast it.

In the process of anything worth doing you encounter tedium at some point. When tedium mixes with not knowing exactly what you are doing, self-doubt can settle in. It becomes hard to focus and in this lapse of focus mistakes happen. This is where many people either give up or figure it out. We couldn’t give up because then nobody got paid. Fred kept us all on task, for better or worse.

It is also in this tedium that you can find out a lot about yourself. How you operate and what lies at the bottom of that self-doubt. If you can be with that long enough you can start to blossom. The things that used to hurt you start to help you. I found myself making these really kick-ass playlists and began to appreciate the nuance of Barry Manilow. When I got home completely covered in shit I would take a viking shower and cook myself something special. All of the other side jobs I had became a pleasure. I would see myself as a warrior, bravely defending the honor of the Oven of Pizza, and all of those who came before her.

I would go in and stare these things down everyday. Sometimes it was overwhelming, sometimes time flew by. Days of sanding, painting, polishing, going to the metal shop to have a piece refabricated, or having a special tap set ordered. It was an adventure. I’m glad Fred was in charge because I would have told the Italians to figure something else out.

Another area of tedium was polishing. I spent many hours with a Scotch brite pad and 000 steel wool trying to make these things shine. This was about the time Mr. Al joined us and as fate would reveal he is actually the Stainless Steel Whisperer….

After Fred put new burners and controls in they would be ready for delivery. It was a sprawling process. At the time I stopped working there, the process was down to a week and a half to two weeks, start to finish. They ship them all over the country now.

This is the lesson of the Cynewulf. Life can be a sprawling, tedious process. It can be hard to stick with something and not being able to see where it is taking you can make it harder. Instead of seeing yourself as the warrior you start to see yourself as the oppressed. Momentum can turn to stagnation and focus can lapse. You begin to question your life decisions and maybe sometimes you hate yourself a little bit.

I find myself in these places more often than I’d like. And what I’ve found is that it’s not necessarily a bad thing.

This blade took me on a journey. I had to start over after I had spent quite a bit of time on it and I got really frustrated. The name Cynewulf means “Royal Wolf”, which relates to the regal bearing and balance of this blade but also to the ability to not get stuck in one’s mistakes or complacent with one’s successes. It’s quite large at 8 inches and 13 inches overall. It was really tricky to heat treat in my little forge. I hammered it through some 2×4’s just to make sure she was ready for the world.

1095 spring steel

A rough grind
Ready for the forge

Phosphoric acid etch…

The Cynewulf: 1095 spring steel with an acid etch, Cherry handle, and brass hardware.

The Cynewulf, with her fallen sister…

I gave this to my chef friend to try out and he ended up buying it on the condition that I customize it to his specifications, which I did. You can already see the patina starting to reveal itself from the potatoes he sliced…

Work through the tedium and pay attention your mistakes. Even the kingliest and queenliest people make them and there are many possibilities in them. There may be some pizza in it at the end…

Knifemaking: the courage to be and the Ace

December 7, 2015December 7, 2015 / ballardmidyette / 1 Comment

“If you love something, you know what the best in the world actually looks like.”

James Altucher

This blade was a commission for a six-year old boy who lives on a farm. His parents are close friends of mine. They have several acres of property in Montpelier, which is about 40 minutes outside the city.

I go out there as often as I can, usually just to get away from the city. They have goats, chickens, ducks, pigs, and other animals. I keep turning down offers to hunt. I’m not much for guns or shooting things but I have made knives for them to skin and clean with, and I will always eat whatever they brought back, provided it’s already dead.

I’ve known this little boy since he was about three. He loves to play and is curious about almost everything. He asks questions that I don’t really have the answers to but I always answer him as best I am able. He is open and fearless and kind. He loves his family and everyone close to him is a dear friend. He sees the best in everyone and wants to help as much as he can. I have to remember to watch my mouth when I spend time with him.

As an adult I see this as profound and courageous and often inspiring. This what I would call the Courage to Be. But as a little boy he is only doing what he knows how to do. He just loves and in those moments I can feel that whatever he has going on is pretty much the best thing ever. As a former little boy, I know this feeling well.

I was out there recently for dinner and he showed me where he had lost a tooth. I asked him if the tooth fairy had visited him and he lost it and screamed “THERE IS NO TOOTH FAIRY” and ran out of the room. Apparently, his mother explained, he had found out the tooth fairy does not exist. She said he threw her two dollars at her and demanded his tooth back.

His little world was shaken and he wasn’t afraid to let the big people know how he felt. Sometimes I wish I could get away with demanding my tooth back…

I was out there the other day and his father needed a hand installing a new washer and dryer. I had this little boy help me while his father did chores. He kept asking me when we were going to play and make things. I couldn’t lie to him. I told him I had to help his dad and I might not have time for play. He wasn’t very fond of my games- break the water line with the channel locks, hold the door while I cart out the old dryer, hand me a screwdriver. I thought we were having fun. I like hanging out with this little being, even when there is much to do.

And then this little boy had a meltdown. Tears and everything. “All you do is work,” he says. “Maybe you work and save some time for play and then maybe you won’t be so tired,” he says.

I asked him if he would like a hug, and he said yes. I didn’t tell him I had come out there to have his mother help me with my resume. I didn’t tell him that his parents work hard and sacrifice so he can play and learn and Be. What I did do was put him on my shoulders and tell him to hold on tight. He said he wasn’t scared.

This is the lesson of the Ace. To find the Courage to Be, even when the grown-up world has dimmed your shine and made it painful to love without condition. To know what the best in the world looks and feels like, even when you have trouble paying your bills, or sorrow makes you weary, or there are many moments when there isn’t enough of anything. To know that while you are not going to get your tooth back, you don’t have to like it or settle for anything less than you believe you deserve.

I had traded a skinning knife and a small paring knife for some supplies from his parents. This little boy found them and said he wanted one. His parents found a two-foot machete in his play fort. The little boy said it was for “keeping bad guys away.” I have seen no bad guys in the vicinity so it must be working. They asked me if I could make a small knife with a blunted edge for him to carry and learn with. I then asked the little boy what kind of knife he would like. I received a drawing and a strict set of parameters, the last of which required that it be a sword. Right little man, I’ll get right on that…

This is what I came up with. A blade for a smaller hand. He’s an inch across at his widest point. This is the smallest blade I’ve ever made.

full flat grind…

…hardened and tempered…

testing for handle fit…

The grip is a piece of Mahogany floorboard

The Ace: O1 tool steel with a satin finish, Mahogany handle and brass hardware.

I made a small leather sheath for him to carry it with. The blade is blunted and I ground the tip down per his parents request. He’ll grow into it and I’ll build him another one when he’s ready.

Take note of the little ones. Try to find your Courage to Be.

Knifemaking: braving the storm and St. Elmo’s Fire

November 24, 2015February 10, 2016 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

“I have seen many storms in my life. Most storms have caught me by surprise, so I had to learn very quickly to look further and understand that I am not capable of controlling the weather, to exercise the art of patience and to respect the fury of nature.”

Paulo Coelho

St. Erasmus, or St. Elmo, is known as the patron saint of sailors. The namesake of this blade refers to a meteorological phenomenon that results from an electrically charged atmosphere that occurs during thunderstorms. It manifests itself as a series of blue sparks, with the mast of the ship acting as a conductor. During storms at sea, sailors would often observe St. Elmo’s Fire. It has always been symbolized as a sign of the Divine, and sailors knew that they were looked after when it appeared.

I made this blade with idea of it being a seaworthy vessel- something that has braved many storms and still has its spirit intact. Sometimes we brave so many storms that we forget how to enjoy the calm. Instead of having a life of calm punctuated by storms, it becomes a life of storms punctuated by calm.

The important thing to realize is that beneath the churning waves and far beneath the thunder, lightning and winds is an entire body of calm. And that there was calm before the storm and there will be calm after.

This isn’t to say that storms aren’t dangerous but they do come with their lessons. I’ve spent a good amount of life in a state of anxiety anticipating storms. Some of us have been conditioned to live in constant turbulence, lest we not be prepared for the foul weather. Over time, we stop differentiating between the calm and the turbulent seas and create a maelstrom where there is none because we haven’t ever known what that calm feels like. Shifting this type of thinking takes time and a good deal of work. To be perpetually worried of the storms robs you from fully enjoying the moment and the beautiful things that occupy the vast majority of time between. Ultimately you can’t control the Nature but you can control yourself.

This the lesson of St. Elmo’s Fire. To allow the storms to pass and to have faith that you will find safe passage through the rough waters. To feel your own calm in the midst of chaos. Oftentimes you can find out what you are really made of within that chaos.

This blade was a commission for a very old friend who did a lovely photoshoot for me. We’ve often talked about storms and how to get through them.

I did a series of kitchen knife designs and this one was sort of a wild card. Functionally she is a German style chef’s knife. The clip in the blade gives her some forward momentum. The drop in the handle rests comfortably in the heel of the hand, and also follows the natural line of the forearm through the wrist. The finger choil provides a comfortable resting place for the lower three fingers if a traditional chef’s grip is preferred.

The blade is 7.25″ long. Blades these long are a continual challenge for me to grind. If ground too thin they will warp and possibly crack during heat treat. On blades this large there is grinding before and after hardening and tempering.

I love working with Mesquite. It has a fiery bouquet.
St. Elmo’s Fire: 1095 spring steel with a phosphoric acid etch, Texas Mesquite handle and brass hardware.

There was some turkey involved on this past Thursday

Trust that the storm will pass.

Be sure to check out Lauren Serpa and her beautiful work.

Knifemaking: power in the small things and the Petit Poucet

November 5, 2015December 9, 2015 / ballardmidyette / 1 Comment

“It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important.”

― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes

When I was twenty-one I took a summer job in a cabinet shop. I was in between semesters of school and had made some pretty significant life changes, at least for a twenty-one year old. I had transferred colleges and I decided I wanted a summer job where I would learn something useful.

This particular cabinet shop did custom work. Everything was built to order. The owner was a friend of my family’s. On my first day I was introduced to everyone in the shop. It was noisy in there, with all the fans and sawdust collection systems, and everyone heard my name as “Bernard” instead of “Ballard”.

I didn’t find this out until later, after everyone had been addressing me as Bernie for at least two weeks. I was just happy to not be called college boy.

I was hired to sweep floors, which I did for approximately one hour on my first day. After that hour I was handed a reciprocating saw and told to cut up a stack of pallets. When they found I still had all of my fingers, they gave me other things to do not involving sweeping the floor. From then on I did whatever was asked of me, still happier to be called Bernie than college boy.

I built drawers for desks to go in lawyers’ offices. I would be on a crew of four guys to build an army of receptionist desks for a medical complex. I built a mile of L-bracket to mount cabinets in an insurance building. When you work in a shop with over a million dollars worth of tools and machinery there isn’t a whole lot that you can’t build. The owner liked to make money and I can count the number of times he subcontracted jobs out on one hand.

This was one of the best summers of my life. I didn’t hang out with anybody. I didn’t go on any dates. I got to work at 7:30a and left at 4:45p. When I got home I would practice my horn for four hours in my parents’ basement and then go to sleep. Then I would get up and do it all over again.

I found myself spending full days on a panel saw, a massive contraption designed to rip and crosscut full sheets of plywood. It cut everything perfectly square. You see these at Lowes and Home Depot but this machine made those look like Tinker Toys. This particular one was made by a Nordic company that specialized in making badass cutting tools. It cost about thirty grand and when it broke down they had to pay a company service tech from Pennsylvania $600 an hour to fix it, which included drive time. Clearly we were all in the wrong business.

I was given a cut list for each job. Some of these lists would be casework for an entire building, others just one or two pieces. I cut all the cabinet pieces by hand, within a 1/64th of an inch, which by industry standards is a pretty large margin. The real tricky bit was cutting cabinet doors and drawer fronts. These cuts had to be cut short to accommodate for the laminate that would cover the side edges of the door. This was to allow the doors to fully close once the edge had been covered in laminate and for the drawer fronts to have the proper reveals once installed. When I would get to the doors and drawers on the cut list I would know to cut them between 1/16th and 1/32nd of an inch shorter than what was written, depending on the type of laminate being used.

I cut hundreds of these things without incident. Then one day I screwed up.

The boss called me over. Shit.

I had sent over four doors that I hadn’t cut short, in this instance it was 3/32nds. They had been laminated, drilled, installed with ungodly priced hinges, cleaned and finished.

“Bernie, you fucked up. Let me explain to you the depth of your fuckup.”

He proceeded to tell me that not only had I wasted my time, but I had also wasted the time of everyone involved in those doors, plus materials, wear and tear on machinery, saw blades, electricity, and by default, company time that we weren’t ever going to see again. With everything involved those doors came to about $240. A piece. He instructed me to take them and throw them in the dumpster, but to do it one at a time, and to use that time to reflect on the breadth of my folly.

Four long trips to the dumpster. I was mortified. Everyone else thought this whole ordeal was hysterical. I made sure to not overlook the doors and drawers in the future.

The summer came to an end. I went back to school with a deeper appreciation for both higher education and the people who build the things that make life possible.

There is much power in the small things and sometimes you only find this when you overlook them. Sometimes they are absolutely necessary. Sometimes they make the world a bit sweeter. Small acts of kindness to yourself and others, small acts of gratitude and compassion- these are the stuffs that can give the world its particular hue.

This is where the Petit Poucet comes in. I have been designing kitchen knives and also watching Jacques Pepin cooking videos. There was one of these that struck me where he had all these beautiful knives at his disposal, some quite large and impressive, but he prepared a gorgeous meal using only a six inch utility knife. Petit Poucet roughly translates roughly to Tom Thumb, a very small person who was able to accomplish large things. It’s important to not overlook the small things. This is the lesson of the Petit Poucet, a small but mighty kitchen blade.

I started with a bar of 1095 spring steel

After rough grinding and heat treat. Thankfully he didn’t warp.

Keeping it cool during finish grinding…

I had some Bloodwood that I found to be striking the Petit Poucet: Acid etched 1095 spring steel, Bloodwood handle, and brass hardware.

Mind the small things- the big things will turn out that much better…and you will save four trips to the dumpster.

P.S.- the man I worked for was possibly the best boss I’ve ever had, and one of the most decent men I’ve ever known. We still talk from time to time. He keeps saying he has a place for me in his business and asks me how I am with finance. If he only knew…

Knifemaking: discernment, judgement, and the Observer

November 5, 2015November 5, 2015 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

“The alchemists spent years in their laboratories, observing the fire that purified the metals. They spent so much time close to the fire that gradually they gave up the vanities of the world. They discovered that the purification of the metals had led to a purification of themselves”

Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

This blade was a commission by a gentleman as a gift to a colleague, another gentleman who is a videographer. One of the parameters was to work video camera parts into the handle.

I am not a student of film. I don’t watch many movies or documentaries and when I do I find myself getting extremely upset, sad, or angry at something I most likely have little control over or isn’t even real. There’s a balance between being informed/entertained and being consumed that I have yet to straddle. Most of the time I watch things I find to be entertaining or inspiring and even then I get excited and have trouble concentrating or going to sleep. The world can be a an overwhelming place and mediums such as music, art, and film have the ability to amplify it immensely. About ten years ago I saw Chick Corea perform and it was so badass I couldn’t go to sleep.

Going back to observing the fire that purified the metals: in observation you can be purified or you can be consumed- that is the nature of the flame. Depending on how something is presented it isn’t difficult to find oneself consumed. Sometimes that is the intent and is part of what gives life it’s lustre.

I was sent a bit of the gentleman’s work. It was a brief snapshot of a community based non-profit and it was beautiful. It was a simple observation of this organization’s past, where they are now, and where they want to be in the future. From that place of observation a clear and wide view was provided. Space was left for the audience to decide for themselves what this organization was all about. That is discernment. It is about separation- the good from the bad, the bitter from the sweet, the wicked from the just, the right from the wrong. Because rarely is something completely one thing or the other.

When it becomes one thing or the other, we find ourselves in the realm of judgement. Judgement is more about polarization- that things are either one way or the other. This is where condemnation or condonation occurs. Be mindful when you hear polarizing statements like this:

“If you are not part of the solution, then you are part of the problem”

“You are either with us or against us”

“The friend of my enemy is my friend”

Judgement can be tricky because rarely is it solely about the situation or instance that is being judged. It is often a reflection of something in us that we don’t like, or might be causing us pain, or shines a light on a place of shame. When I find myself casting judgement, I find it coming from one of these places. Sometimes it’s difficult to find one’s way back to discernment from that realm.

I saw a profound maxim on the Facebook the other day: “Judge not, for thou hast fucked up in the past as well.”

There it is. I fucked up in the past and I haven’t dealt with it so I will cast judgement on those in similar situations because it makes me feel better about the shit I haven’t dealt with.

Not proper observation at all. You miss out on the nuanced bits of wonder that makes life sweet and also bitter.

This is the lesson of the Observer. To see that things are rarely one thing or the other. To look past yourself and your projections and to take things for their core value. There is something cleansing in that. It’s a bumpy journey, but a journey worth taking.

…….

For this blade I drew out several designs for the client to look at. He selected this one, a drop point design and a very effective out-of-doors use knife. It’s a departure from my normal “let the grinder design the blade” technique.

Profiled…

The runner up designs:

Centerline guide:

After heat treat I take the plunges to the spine…

The handle was going to be an extension of the recipient’s passion. After a bit of thought on how to work video equipment into the handle, I took a trip to the local pro audio store.
Gaffer’s tape. Used across the board by almost everyone in arts/entertainment production and operations, be them prince or pauper.

It’s a woven fabric tape. It leaves no residue when pulled up.
The process of sandwiching layers of resin between tape begins…

…and it just didn’t work. The resin wouldn’t set up for some reason. It was either due to the adhesive on the tape, the inability for the layers to breathe, the high humidity and low temps, or a combination of all three. I went at it three times and went through nearly a quart of resin. I pouted for a bit, and found myself in a funk of judgement.

Once I got past that and explored a bit more, I found Duvetyne. It’s a light-blocking cotton material used in the motion picture industry. It’s also used in the fine arts world. Sometimes stage side drops are made out of them as well. I wanted to keep to the idea of a blade that is an extension of this particular gentleman’s passion.

By this point I was too preoccupied to take pictures. This resin is an exothermic polymer and needs a bit of heat in the beginning. It’s been a bit humid this October and my work area has no climate control so I put it under a heat lamp. I had to babysit the setup for a bit because I had accidentally set the previous batch on fire by having it too close to the lamp….

The Observer. I left the handle unfinished- it’s the backstage area. She is O1 tool steel, homebrewed Duvetyne micarta, and steel hardware.

This was incredibly challenging and humbling but worth all the bumps and snags. Look a little deeper: there are profound lessons to be seen.

Sheath coming (very) soon

Knifemaking: presence, vulnerability, and the Forester

September 21, 2015September 21, 2015 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

“Take the time to know
How alone you are in this world
Just to find
Death is on your mind
As you stand still, you realize where you are
In her world
Aged and bright
My moon after the tide”

Craft Spells- Komorebi

(you can read about the initial inspiration for the Forester here)

I love the forest. I’m fortunate to live in a larger city that is in close proximity to the woods. I have good friends who live on farms in rural wooded areas. I occasionally house-sit for one of my good friends who lives out in the sticks and I will tell you that as a city person there isn’t anything much better than being able to wake up to a place like this:

I think what makes the forest such a special place these days is that it gently brings you into the moment. Not all at once, and not all of the time. Sometimes I go into the woods and all I can think about is how I am going to get my health insurance paid or why I didn’t wash my dishes before I came. Both of these are valid concerns and also a prime example of not being with yourself, or being present- how am I supposed to experience the here and now when I am consumed with shit that will be dealt with later? It’s a thing: once you start noticing that you aren’t being present with yourself you can start to work on it.

When the presence does happen it’s quite wonderful. It’s as if you can see what you are doing and where you are going without any judgement. I try to capture those moments. There’s a vulnerability in the forest because you are so open. Everything is. And it’s empowering and humbling. There is no posturing and no bravado. You can feel your place in things and it feels so safe. At least for me. These are the places where you can really feel your being: There’s a word in Japanese called komorebi. Literally translated it means “sunshine filtering through the trees”. This page explains komorebi a bit better than my understanding of the depth of it permits me. What I do know is that it conveys a sense of wonder at something that would be there whether we are present to observe it or not. It just is. I dig that.

The seasons of the woods: summer…
And autumn when the leaves fall:And winter:And spring:

This is where the Forester comes in. Something that that looks like it just stepped out of the woods, without pretension or affectation. Something to help you be present with yourself and to find the power and connectedness in being vulnerable.

I found a green cutting board that I thought would be interesting to work with. I liked the idea of being able to take something green with me when I couldn’t get to the woods.

…and I hated it. I though it was ugly and it wouldn’t sand up or polish the way I wanted it to. So I cut it off and put an oak handle on instead.

She is made with O1 tool steel, white Oak handle scales, and brass hardware. She was bought by one of my good friend’s father, who is a bit of a Forester himself.

May wherever you are be where you are supposed to be. This is the lesson of the Forester.

Knifemaking: honor, integrity, and the Hound

September 13, 2015September 13, 2015 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

“Both sides of my family were landless sharecroppers and mountain people from as far back as I can remember…What did I receive from this lineage? Things I believe to be very valuable: a good raw intellect and a good tough body…A sense of honor that results in a touchiness common to our people…When the only thing you own is your sense of personal honor, you tend to protect it at all costs.“

Eric L. Haney, Inside Delta Force

This blade was initially a commission from another very dear friend of mine. He asked for a knife that was based in a sort of old-world honor. A sort of honor that is maybe not seen so much today, at least not on the surface of things. Something that may get lost in performance reports and email threads. Something that isn’t tied to how much money you do or do not make, what deity you do or do not pray to, what color your skin may or may not be, and completely independent of whatever gender with which you happen to identify. A sort of goodness that comes from having a place in this world, of knowing deep within your being that you deserve to be here and that no one can take that away from you. He asked that it be called the Hound and I got to work.

There are times in my life when I have felt empty and hollow, like something was missing. I tried filling this with all sorts of things- material things, a busy schedule, pharmaceuticals, and overindulgences of food and drink. What was actually missing at those times was a personal bearing. In more difficult times I had traded my honor for things that were fleeting, for a sense of security, and for a feeling of belonging. When you have something to ground yourself in and can carry yourself in esteem, the aforementioned things will find their way to you, though at times it may feel like you are a thousand miles away from any of them. No one gives this feeling to you. Some people have this from an early age, others have to find it, and still others go through hell and many trials by fire to figure out what it is for them. Some people have been beaten down so far that they aren’t aware that it even exists- but still it can be theirs.

When you act and speak from this place it brings an integrity and truth to the things you do. A resonance that permeates everything- like an orchestra, where a balance of intonation, volume, harmony, and depth of emotion makes a gorgeous sonic mass. There may be chaos all around you but within you everything moves in synch, just like the bows of a symphony orchestra.

I “finished” this blade some months ago and was never quite happy with it. I’ve since made a blade of the same bearing for my friend, the Hound Mark II (here is a picture). I didn’t find the initial bevel work on this knife to be satisfactory and I didn’t come to this conclusion till after I had hardened the steel. One has to be careful grinding on hardened steel: if it gets too hot the steel loses it’s temper. So with a cup of ice water I took the bevel to where I was happy with it.

It’s important to not give away our honor, as it can be the thing that gets us through when there may not be anything else. As it follows, I added a sturdy grip on the Hound. I wanted it to melt into the hand and hold fast for times when holding anything may be challenging.

Profiled, ground, and sanded After hardening…
During tempering…    Roughing in contours…Cherrywood for balance….
Mostly sanded… The Hound

The Hound was made from O1 tool steel with a Cherrywood handle and brass rivets. Hold to your honor.

If you find you would like to purchase one of my blades or have me craft one for you, email me or check out my Etsy store. It may end up on this blog…

Knifemaking: gentleness, boundaries, and the Maiden

September 10, 2015September 10, 2015 / ballardmidyette / 2 Comments

“I was only fifteen years old and full of fire
I was a half a pound of bacon and an egg on the side
She got all the good looks, and I got all the war
She was everything I asked for, and a little more”

Francis Dunnery, Give Up and Let it Go (The Gulley Flats Boys)

This blade was a commission from a very good friend of mine. I’ve known him and his wife for quite a few years, worked for his company, and spent much time with his family. He lives in Maidens, Virginia, so coming up with an idea for this blade sort of took care of itself.

The inspiration for the Maiden comes from most all of the women I am close to. Elegant, beautiful, strong, full of love, and most definitely not having any of your shit. Or put another way, immaculately clothed but with a sword hidden beneath beneath their cloak. Or sun dress. Or whatever houndstooth scarf or coat is in season. You get the idea.

No man is an island. Sometimes it’s really healthy to have someone to tell you “hey, see that stupid thing you’re about to do? Maybe think twice about that- you don’t need to impress anyone.” Or,

“Hey, it’s time to stand on your own feet. No, I’m not going to carry you through this. Don’t worry, you’ve got this.” Or even,

“Whether you fail or succeed, I love you.”

These are strong statements but they are held by a gentleness that we don’t often give ourselves, or at least I don’t. I’ve been known to on occasion, when left to my own devices, done that stupid thing to impress someone insignificant and not stood on my own feet and felt like love was conditional on whether I failed or succeeded. Because whether we like it or not, at some point or another we all have moments of neediness and insecurity, self-doubt and self-sabotage, and the story-hour from hell where we ruminate on our screw-ups. As social creatures it’s important to hear these things from others close to us. This doesn’t necessarily mean there are dependency issues at play. It means that we are human. And whether we are aware of it or not, we are often giving the same support to those who help support us.

To me, these statements also represent strong boundaries- saying what is felt without expectation or condition. Without (or in spite of) fear of a negative reaction. Spoken not to coerce or manipulate an outcome but to help us to be ourselves.

That is the lesson of the Maiden- an elegant tool that is close in good times and the rougher times, beautifully dressed with no fucks to give. I’ll drink to that….

I designed four of these lovely ladies and had my friend pick which on he liked best. These three didn’t quite make the cut and that’s ok. I went with a drop point blade- the right balance of tip strength, belly, and piercing ability. Good for farm work.

finish sanding

The Maiden: 1095 spring steel with an acid etch, Curly Maple handle, and brass hardware.

I also made her a sheath. Wet formed for a snug fit.

I actually made two of these- in case I screwed up the finish on the Curly Maple. This is the first one, with a satin finish.

Knifemaking: not taking things personally and the Persuader

September 5, 2015September 5, 2015 / ballardmidyette / 1 Comment

“A true warrior can only serve others, not himself…When you become a mercenary, you’re just a bully with a gun.”

Evan Wright, Generation Kill

In the last semester or so of college I got a job building stages for a small production company. When I say small, it was one gentleman who kept everything in his garage and had a box truck older than I was with no air conditioning. Everything was rough and tumble. Most of the jobs were second-rate: fashion shows at dilapidated event halls, seedy parties, Cinco de Mayo celebrations, weddings out in the boondocks, and community events in some of the rougher parts of town (for these I was told to carry a ‘stunt wallet’- a cheap velcro wallet with nothing but my ID and 5 or 6 bucks in it, in case we got mugged) The biggest job he had was once a year at a county fair. We would build a large stage, maybe 60ft by 30ft. Then we set up 40ft by 20ft event tent on top of it. The headlining act was an Elvis impersonator from North Carolina and for a county fair he could really draw the crowds.

These particular tents are a bit tricky. They require at least four fit people to set up. They are the sort of contraptions where there is a one right way to set it up and a thousand stupid ways to set it up. There’s no in between. There are several dozen aluminum poles ranging from 8 to 20ft. They connect to form the frame through a series of elbow joints secured in place with cotter pins. After you put the frame together, you ‘skin’ it with a weather treated canvas. It’s all heavy as shit.

Invariably when you are putting the frame together some of the cotter pins won’t go in because the rivet holes in the poles won’t line up with elbow joints, usually due to uneven ground. This was to be expected. On these occasions we would bring out the Persuader.

The Persuader was an aptly-named baby sledge hammer for helping those cotter pins to go through the holes. We weren’t trying to beat anything into submission or make anything do something it wasn’t meant to do. There was no intimidation, no malice, nothing like that. Sometimes things don’t quite go together as they were designed and in those instances they might need a bit of persuasion…of the forceful variety.

I find this when I get to the end of a project where there is something I’ve built and it’s almost finished but something isn’t quite going together as I had planned. Do I start over? Do I give up? What usually happens is I percolate a cranky funk and try to wish it into submission. Alas, wishing does not make it so….

This is where the lesson of the Persuader comes in. The idea of helping something to do what it does. Of taking action, manifesting intention, of letting go of the idea that things have to be perfect. Sometimes I find myself so wrapped up in a project that when something doesn’t work I take it personally. When that happens the project becomes about me instead of the idea I am trying to honor and serve. When the cotter pins of Life won’t go through the rivet holes for which they were designed…give them a tap with the Persuader. Not out of anger or frustration, but love taps.

It is from this place that I designed the Persuader blade. Something you can pull out when you know where you want to end up but have challenges in your way. When frustrations and doubts may close your heart. When the goddamn cotter pin won’t go through the stupid rivet hole and the Elvis impersonator won’t have his tent and the sun melts his pomade and he can’t sing….right, deep breaths…everything is there, it just needs a little persuasion.

This blade started with a bar of 1095 spring steel. I wanted something utilitarian, yet elegant. For maximum blade strength and cutting ability I ground a sabre grind on the cutting edge. For extra cutting utility I made a chisel grind on the top of the blade.

Sabre grinds are difficult to do well. I used my cheap little Chinese belt grinder as much as I could and then I evened it out on my filing jig.

After heat treat and tempering….After lots of cleaning up and finishing work…

Some ornamental filework..,

brass spacers and Sapele Mahogany
Chisel grind up front…

When it gets tough, go ahead and get frustrated and take it personally. When you’re through with that, grab the Persuader.

…now to clean all of this up…

Knifemaking: embracing your journey and the Spark

September 2, 2015September 2, 2015 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

“Watch my back and light my way
Watch over all of those born St. Christopher’s Day”

James Taylor- “My Traveling Star”

St. Christopher is known to be the patron saint of travelers. There isn’t a whole lot outside of speculation on who he really was. “The Passion of St. Christopher”, found in a manuscript called the Nowell Codex (most famous for containing Beowulf) speaks of how he is put to death while trying to convert the heathen king Dagnus to Christianity. This may be based on the 6th century Greek legend of Offerus, who helped travelers cross a river with strong currents. The name “Christopher” is of Greek origin and means Christ-bearer.

In 1969 there was a bit of reform to the Roman Calendar and St. Christopher’s Day didn’t make the cut. The lack of unsubstantiated origins of St. Christopher, though not explicitly stated as the reason for the removal, didn’t help his cause. On top of that he is not a formally canonized saint. My Catholic friends may have something different to say and that’s cool. I’m just an observer.

None of this detracts from the spiritual impact, or that we are looked after and cared for in our travels.

(I read quite a few journals, articles, and blogs. I put links to the most significant ones at the end of this)

“Saint Christopher”- Titian Vicilli

I have a chef friend, a very gentle man and kind man. Under that cloak is a no-bullshit attitude that originates from growing up in Brooklyn in the late 1960’s. He always told me that when travels are tough you should always pat yourself on the back and keep moving. Sometimes the currents will pull you off your center and you need help.

I started this little knife quite a few months ago. I was in a place where I felt my fire had gone out. Travels were tough. I wasn’t sure where I was going and I didn’t like where I had been.

Even though at that particular moment I couldn’t maintain a roaring fire of my being, I could at least carry a candle, a small flame, till I could get my fire going again. So I made one. Something to give me a bit of light, warmth, and comfort. Something to watch over me when I was having a tough time watching over myself. The blank for this knife sat on my bench for a long time. I finished it a couple days ago. My fire is stronger. I like where I’m going and I’m not ashamed of where I’ve been.

The lesson here is to not forget where you came from and to not lose sight of where you are going. Remember the brutal parts especially because those are the most sacred.