Knifemaking: armor, mobility, and the Archer II

December 29, 2015December 29, 2015 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

“ARMOR, n. The kind of clothing worn by a man whose tailor is a blacksmith.”

― Ambrose Bierce, The Unabridged Devil’s Dictionary

(you can read about the crafting of the original Archer here)

We all put on armor everyday. Some of us put on more than others. Sometimes it physically manifests. Hard hats, steel toes, wingtips, neckties. Some ladies refer to their makeup as war paint, another type of armor. Other times it’s more subtle and subdued- the way we carry ourselves, our use of vernacular in particular situations, and the image of ourselves that we present to the world. All these are things we do to protect ourselves.

A few years ago I had a temp job working construction over the summer. The company I worked for had a contract to build all of the temporary structures for the Boy Scout National Jamboree. I spent almost four months driving to a military base in the middle of nowhere. I use the term base loosely. It was really just a giant campground guarded by military police, and all of the campers carried semiautomatic weapons. In four months I used a flushable toilet maybe three times. The cast of characters I worked with were a colorful lot.

My boss was a Brazilian Jui Jitsu master. He got to work before everyone else and ran five miles on base. Some people have coffee before they start work. Our mornings with him consisted of tapping out of sleeper holds, arm bars, half nelsons, and doling out mollywhops of a variety I’ve yet to experience again.

One of the other gentleman did a ten stretch for first degree murder, which nobody found out till the work contract was almost up. The base knew he had a twenty year-old felony and vetted him for a base pass. I’m not exactly sure what this means, but military bases generally don’t mess around. He did good work and kept to himself. He was married to a florist and had a house in the country.

Then there was the gentleman who had just gotten out of jail for beating the the hell out of a guy with a tire iron. He was drunk and thought the guy was stealing his car. He was there trying to pay off the lawsuit and lawyer’s fees.

Another gentleman I worked with had severe anger management issues and was there because he was dating the company owner’s daughter. He had a degree in English and was trying to get into law school.

There was Jose from El Salvador who had four children and was still madly in love with his wife. He taught me filthy things to say in Spanish.

There were two football players on break from a small conservative college. They said they were there earning beer money.

Then there was me. My car had died and I needed to buy a new one.

I spent four months with these guys, riding around in the back of a decommissioned deuce-and-a-half, building things, and hearing stories that I’m still not sure if I believe or not. In these sorts of work environments a decent amount of posturing and exaggeration is to be expected from almost everyone. Despite their checkered backgrounds, these guys were not terrible to work with. Nothing felt unsafe except for the blistering heat, the bird-size mosquitos and the morning mollywhops to which I became adept at parrying.

Just to be safe I would put on some armor everyday- a bit of bravado, a bit of flash, a bit of the grandiose. My nicknames reflected that. The Viking. Sledgehammer. Red Devil. I was lifting a lot of weights and I was not a small man. It helped enforce some social boundaries. At the end of the day I could usually take it off, or so I thought.

The type of armor a lot of these guys wore- they couldn’t take it off. This was how they lived and you could feel that they had worn this armor for a very long time, so much so that it became a part of their being. There were scuffles, gruff talking, machismo. Everything was laced with an extra scoop of testosterone.

When you wear heavy armor you are shielded from many things that can hurt you. The drawback is that you shield yourself from the things that help you as well. You block out grief but you also block out the serenity that in time comes with it. You block out pain but you are also blocking the healing that follows. You can become a shell of yourself. The armor becomes limiting. You can’t move and you become horribly stuck.

What happens when you do decide to take the armor off? When you aren’t hiding behind any sort of bravado or grandiosity or gestures or facades? There comes a point where it becomes more painful to live with the armor on than off. You take the armor off and let the world in. All of it. The world becomes overwhelming. You’ve put on a different set of armor, something that allows you to breathe and move and serves you in a much deeper capacity.

This is the lesson of the Archer. To lightly armor yourself so that you are protected, yet you can still hit your marks with a deadly precision. You can move farther and faster and feel much more deeply. You become more aware and but find that you require a different sort of care for yourself and this may feel foreign. You feel pain more acutely but the healing becomes more available to you. The things you put out into the world feel more genuine.

For this blade I wanted something long, sharp, and elegant. I designed her for the kitchen. She is ground thin and a bit more fragile- at one point I dropped her on the concrete floor and the tip blunted a bit. After a bit of grinding she was alright.

The Archer, Mark II: 1095 spring steel, Sapele handle, brass hardware

Take your time and adjust to this new armor as the world opens up to something beyond posturing and mollywhops. This is the deeper lesson of the Archer.

Knifemaking: magic, noticing, and the Conjurer

December 25, 2015January 19, 2016 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”

― W.B. Yeats

With most things in the world, there are many behind-the-scenes forces that help things to happen. Take a blossoming flower. Beautiful, fragrant, and simple. But behind all of that is a team of unseen helpers going about their existences- honeybee’s to pollinate, an ecosystem of soil for roots to take hold, and a concoction of nutrients within that for nourishment. There is rain, meteorological patterns to govern the rain, and atmospheric conditions to govern those. The beautiful blossoming flower couldn’t do what it does without these things, but that doesn’t make it any less magical, or detract from it’s wonder.

Life is a microcosm of this. For everything in our lives, magical or otherwise, there is a team going about busy existences to make those things happen. It’s important to notice these things.

A few years ago I started getting calls to work big shows. Rock concerts, comedians, people of Youtube fame: acts big enough to fill coliseums and large concert halls. My job title in these instances is Production Runner, a gofer, someone who knows where to find things and can make problems go away. I’m the guy who gets someone coffee, or picks up prescription strength fungicide for professional wrestlers, or buys lumber for stage carpenters. I’ve worked for a huge number of these acts. Sarah Bareilles is very sweet, Taylor Swift’s bodyguards are terrifying, and Bill Cosby told me I was a connoisseur of elongated bullshit.

These performers are like the flower. Most of them are who they are because they do something special that resonates with people, something fragrant and colorful and moving- magical even. But like the flower there is also an army of forces working very hard so that these performers can do what they do. There are truck and bus drivers, lighting designers, electricians, sound technicians, board operators, music directors and musicians and a slew of pencil-pushers and smooth-talkers to bring the flowers to the masses. There is even magic in what all of these forces are.

One of the first shows I worked was on the set of a two day DVD filming at a local concert hall. It was for a well known ventriloquist and was to be shown on a national TV network. It was exciting. After it was all over there was a director who needed a ride to DC to visit his brother before he flew back to Los Angeles. Being ever the cash opportunist I offered to assist.

In the I-95 traffic we had deep conversations of politics, sex, and music. He was telling me about a production he was watching from backstage in LA. It was a Stevie Wonder performance being filmed live for television and there was a performance of “My Cherie Amor. He had heard this song hundreds of times before but this performance of “My Cherie Amor” moved him to tears. He couldn’t explain it. Why was that one time so moving and special?

I told him that it was probably because he hadn’t really stopped to listen before, or maybe not in a very long time. There wasn’t anything else to do at that moment and he was able to hear a legend do what made him famous, to hear this beautiful man conjure deep things through his very simple gift.

This is the lesson of the Conjurer. To see the magic in the simple things. To conjure your own magic through the simple things you do in your life, because that is where the magic really lives. The flipside is to notice that the magic is there. It’s what puts the color in this world.

She is made from a bar of 1095 spring steel
Rough grinding

Ready for hardening

Hardened and scaly

Tempered

Brass for the liners

The Conjurer: 1095 spring steel, Mora handles, and brass liners and hardware

When the director gentleman and I got to DC he gave me his card. I went home and googled him. This man was responsible for many magical musical productions and television shows and his name was shown prominently on each of them. Turns out he is quite the celebrity in that world and for good reason. If I hadn’t taken the time to notice I could have missed a special experience and the simple but beautiful conjuring that this man did. He helped me to see my own conjuring and magic. This is the deeper lesson of the Conjurer.

Knifemaking: creating space and the Pas de Deux

December 10, 2015January 2, 2016 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

“You want to make two knives that become one. Or perhaps one knife that becomes two.”

Igor Antonov

Over the years I’ve quite a bit of production work for the ballet company in town. Building things, running a shuttle, being part of a crew that makes something special happen. My most favorite part of the work I’ve done is a program called Lecture Demonstrations. This is a fancy name for kiddie shows; in-school performances, where the company puts on performances for the children. The company manager would line up shows at elementary schools and take care of all the administrative details. I would show up to the ballet, load up sound equipment, props, costumes, and half a dozen dancers into a minivan and go to an elementary school, chat with school administrators, set up the sound system, wire up the lead ballerina, start the show, and punch the mic and music cues. After the show everything would get torn down, packed up, and loaded into the minivan along with myself and the dancers. Then we went to the next one.

The performance was an adaptation of “Coppelia”, made easily digestible for second graders, complete with talky bits and a question and answer. The kids enjoyed it.

I feel most people who have seen any sort of ballet video or performance have seen the lady in the tutu dancing with the man in tights. This is called pas de deux- French for “step of two”. Man and lady dancing together. Very simple on the surface.

Over the course of a month and a half we did two of these a day, four days a week, plus rehearsals. After watching about 60 of these shows, I found that I really looked forward to the two sections of pas de deux in the program. I loved the balance of the masculine and the feminine. I loved the interdependence of the dance- they are both separate entities. The beauty comes when the feminine surrenders to the masculine. The masculine leaves a certain space for her to shine, for her to be what she is. In doing what she does, the feminine leaves space for the masculine to be what he is. Trust permeates throughout. They both have their own identity but together they do things that individually they could not.

I had an idea for a knife. There is a wonderful Ukrainian gentleman on the artistic staff who would come to these performances and give notes and critiques to the dancers on how the performance could be better. He also gave me critiques on the the technical side of things. After one of these critiques I told him what I do and how to work the pas de deux into it. “Ah,” he says, “You want to make two knives that become one. Or perhaps one knife that becomes two.” I had to think about that for a couple of months.

To flow seamlessly between separate and together- this is the lesson of the Pas de Deux. To leave space for things to be what they are while maintaining one’s own identity. It is in this space that intimacy exists and blossoms. To be so secure in oneself that submission requires small effort. Sometimes we hold on to things so tightly that there isn’t any space for the things we need. Sometimes there is a great amount of space and everything may seem to sprawl and lose form. Always, at the end of it all, everything ends up where it is supposed to be.

I chose to make one knife that became two.

First the feminine…
Rough grind Hardened

Purple Heartwood

Here is where I had to take the handle off and put a new one on. I couldn’t quite get that little tail to bond to the tail of the tang. In the next picture you see the new handle with two little brass rivets.

Now the masculine…

Hardened

Tempered

Tulipwood for him

Now the stinky part…

The Pas de Deux, a kitchen pair: 1095 spring steel

The feminine is Purple Heartwood with brass hardware

The masculine is Tulipwood with brass hardware

Embrace the space. You and your partner, in whatever form they may take, will both shine.

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: 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: the Lioness, revisited

September 18, 2015September 19, 2015 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

“The stuff we make don’t go bad”

“The ugly dog barks the longest”

Tray Eppes: potter, musician, fully present citizen of the Universe

(you can find the initial crafting of the Lioness here)

So a number of years ago one of my best friends asked me if I wanted to play a gig with him and his godfather. It was a Christmas parade in a small town about two hours away. We were both in music school and played near any gig we could get. Neither of had cars at the time and a big ass Dodge truck piloted by a gentleman with a large beard pulled up. This was Tray. On the way we stopped at a jazz club, had a few cold ones, and heard some badass tunes. We got to Tray’s farm at around 2am and he showed me his guitar rig (at full blast). I went to sleep to the sound of coyotes howling. I got up and Tray’s wife had made us smoked venison with Hollandaise sauce on a lightly toasted English muffin. We drove to town and played brass band versions of Christmas songs and it was a blast.

We played those parades for the next couple of years. We spent a New Years out there. As I recall we drank gin and sat in the outdoor hot tub in front of a fire the size of Rhode Island. I make sure to keep in touch with Tray and his wife.

A couple months ago I was standing in the middle of a field working security for a country music concert, alone with my thoughts due to the fact that most of the audience was in the beer tent and there wasn’t much securing to do. In those moments I often find myself thinking about places I’d rather be and in this case I would have rather been, well, almost anywhere else. I decided I would call Tray and see how he made a living making the things he makes: killer pottery.

He told me about selling pottery to the Amish. The Amish don’t have any possessions that are purely decorative. If there are pictures on the wall, it is most likely a Bible verse written in a modest calligraphy. Likewise, nothing is frivolously decorated. This particular group, Tray was telling me, used white dishes. Tray also told me that white pottery is a bit more labor intensive than his normal work and the Amish are the only ones who ask for it. So he can make a large batch of it and have it on hand and not have to fool with it for awhile. He was explaining to the Amish man he can make it and sell it years later.

“Ahh”, said the Amish man. “Not like spoilt cow’s milk.”

This was when he told me the stuff we make doesn’t spoil. You can go back and rework things that you aren’t happy with. I’ve had a few proverbial ugly dogs barking at me and recently I’ve been reworking those. And it’s not limited to just pottery, or knives, or music…just because you were one way yesterday doesn’t mean that’s how you have to be today.

Tray also ordered a knife and a sheath. I made him this:

For the Lioness I found the blade to be too thick. I went and ground down the bevel, which in turn improved the balance of the blade. I wasn’t happy with the finish so I took care of that as well. All of this came from a gentle place. Nothing is going to spoil.

O1 tool steel, Cherrywood handle, and brass hardware

The nice thing about refinishing a wooden handle (or wooden anything) is that the grain is so much more prominent due to the permeation of the finishing oil. The grain pops much more grandly than it did the first time around. I see it as a little gift for going back and trying to make it better.

I also smoothed and polished up the tang.

Tray and a much younger me

Check out Tray’s site at here and drop him a line

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.