Knifemaking: courage in being gentle, and the Tennessee Gentlemen

February 18, 2022March 17, 2022 / ballardmidyette / 1 Comment

“Play that restless melody for me again
The one I’ve been so afraid of,
My sweet friend.
Maybe the little refrain will whisper inside the rain again
Play the one with all the changes.”

Al Jarreau- “Something That You Said“

Sometime in the beginning of the pandemic I started talking like Hulk Hogan. Just before everything got shut down I had been making combat daggers for spec ops guys. They had gotten in touch with me asking for “something that you can ram through somebody’s skull.” They all had a particular way of talking to me. The first time I talked to any of them they always addressed me as ‘sir’, and every interaction thereafter was ‘brother’. I really dug that. Even though they were paying me for a service, it made me feel like we were all on the same team and working together.

‘I APPRECIATE YOU, BROTHER!!!’

I found that to be immensely encouraging as I noticed it slipping into my vernacular. The irony of all this happening while I was building them tools of combat to rain down pain is not lost on me.

As Covid started shutting everything down and civil unrest led to riots, I found most of my means of livelihood shut down. Everything was a mess and I was broke trying to pay medical bills. The State Unemployment system was, and is still, a joke. With the murder of George Floyd, and everyone already agitated from lockdown, there was lots aggression and anger. Some of that aggression and anger manifested as marches through the streets, and some escalated to shopping centers being burned down. States of emergency were declared, riot police were dispatched, curfews were instilled, teargas was launched. Most all of this was happening less than a block from where I live, and occasionally it crossed over to the front yard of my building. There were nights where I was afraid someone was going to set my car on fire, which was how close this all was. My Buddhist vegetarian yoga teacher (who didn’t eat meat because it was unkind to animals) told me she was thinking about getting a gun and this did not seem unreasonable to me.

Everyone has the potential to fall prey to their baser of inclinations and move through life as a wrecking ball, especially when a private ambulance company is overdrawing your bank account because your livelihood is shut down like a high school keg party. It was my goal to not do that. During quiet moments at that time, I would check in with myself just to see what was hanging around. I found myself to be full primal rage, an ocean of grief, a profound sense of loss, and a hair-trigger response to any perceived threat. At such a reactive time as it was not too long ago, I found that it took a tremendous amount of courage to be kind and gentle.

During one such quiet moment I asked myself if we could break every interaction down to the very simplest parts of humanity and connection, and just not worry too much about the rest. Maybe we could find a way to let go of the weight of fear and uncertainty, and surrender to the simple joy of quietly going about one’s day. As a result of stripping everything down to the simplest parts of connection during a time of extreme duress, I found myself thinking of the Spec Ops guys for whom I was making daggers. I thought particularly of how in the course of our business I always felt seen and heard, and that my time and talents were respected and honored.

The crux of the Hulk Hogan technique is that it allows the people you interact with to also feel seen and heard. For me it was something that replaced a feeling of despair and hopelessness with a sense of community and belonging. It kept me safe and connected and prevented me from being a wrecking ball, which was what I felt like most of the time. In practice it started every morning with the gentleman selling me my coffee at the market down the street.

“IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU, BROTHER!”

He got some encouragement and I got some coffee. Everybody feels better and has a bit more confidence for their day in a world that is on fire.

As I prepared for my days of shit work to keep myself from being sued by private medical companies, I did my best create disarming moments, as much for myself as the people I interacted with every day, starting with a cup of coffee. There is great power in gentleness, and after all the anger and violence I had experienced, I wanted to see what that practice looked like. Turns out it’s a bit like starting a chainsaw- a gentle but purposeful tug on the pulley cable gives you enough power to take a tree down. Pull too hard and you break the thing.

Ladies I talked to were always “Ma’am”, and anyone I believe to be identifying beyond the binary was always “Cousin”.

In focusing on my interactions with others, I found my crankiness and shit attitudes were curbed. They didn’t go away and I still found myself frustrated at the world, but those moments were much smaller and less consuming. It was much more than an affectation- I had absolutely fuck all going on and this was where I could direct my focus. After such a traumatizing time, this was a way that I could come back to myself and remember who I am and what I do.

Any sort of practice, when diligently observed and worked on, operates on a continuum. It meets you were you are and expands into everything. I was having a drink on my girlfriend’s porch one night when my girlfriend pointed out her neighbor struggling to get a washing machine off his pickup truck. Without thinking I got up and went over.

“BROTHER DO YOU NEED A HAND?!?”

…….

This two knife set was build for a good friend of mine in Tennessee. He got in touch needing something better for his kitchen. During hunting season he and his wife process a lot of deer. After field dressing, a good set of kitchen knives are good second-line tools.

When we spoke over the phone, he had said that while he had needed a set of knives, he had also wanted to throw me some business and help me to practice my craft. As a craftsman himself, he understood. He did to me what I had been doing to everybody else for the past two years, and this build was a lovely experience and testament to the courage of being gentle. I’ve detailed that experience below.

A critical mistake was made here. Rivet holes should always be drilled after the slot is cut and fitted. Lesson learned.

Rough grinding on the Boning knife after hardening.

….and everything did not line up. I broke two drill bits trying to get everything lined up before epoxy cured. Epoxy cured and I have to rip everything apart and figure out what everything wasn’t lined up. This was the third attempt and everything finally went together.

For the Chef we have reclaimed Cherry, recovered from an old mantlepiece.

Knifemaking: softening and connection; and the Gun Dog

November 11, 2020December 10, 2020 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

“How we fall into grace. You can’t work or earn your way into it. You just fall. It lies below, it lies beyond. It comes to you, unbidden.”
― Rick Bass, Colter: The True Story of the Best Dog I Ever Had

I wouldn’t have ever really considered myself a dog person, not really. There is an appreciation and respect for all animals, both wild and domesticated, and whatever creature I meet I try to let them know that I see them- a deep namaste and acknowledgement of being. But as far “being a dog person”… I’m just not sure I have whatever that is.

A couple of years ago my girlfriend said she was thinking about getting a dog. I told her don’t do it. My only reasoning was that we were all very busy doing interesting and challenging work, her kids were getting older and doing more things, and everyone was tired all the time. I figured it would probably be best if we held onto every ounce of emotional energy that we could.

In spite of my reasons, which themselves came from a lovingly practical and pragmatic place, she did not listen to me. This lady is one of the most unfailingly capable people I know, a wonderful mother, with the uncanny ability to make everything around her better than it was before, even on her worst days. It was no surprise when she brought home a several-month-old rescue puppy. This dog was a lemon drop beagle mix with the biggest ears I’d ever seen. She seemed to be equal parts fruit bat, luck dragon, and polar bear.

The local animal league had told my girlfriend that this dog and her sister had been found abandoned in a barn. The puppy’s sister had some sort of severe muscular dysplasia and had found a home. My girlfriend’s puppy had a little bit of this, but much less so. She moved around fine but a closer look showed her front half didn’t quite work together with her back half.

When I met her she was still adjusting to her new home. She was terrified of doorways and dinner plates. She didn’t want to leave whatever room she was in and when she did she scuttled through like something was going to get her. If you were to put down a plate of puppy chow in front of her she would back away as if it were going to bite her. In spite of all of this she was a deeply loving and affectionate dog which was amazing considering the shit sandwich of a beginning she had been given. At that moment, shortly after meeting this dog, I felt something soften toward this wonky little barn dog that was part fruit bat, luck dragon, and polar bear; this sweet little creature that I told my girlfriend not to get.

Over the next few years I would tell this dog that I was sorry I told her mom not to get her. She had grown into a rather stunning animal, and her front half worked together much better with her back half. Doorways weren’t too much of a problem though her old nemesis the dinner plate still gave her pause. I found myself very attached to her and, though she was very much a lady dog and a product of my girlfriend’s deep nurture, I would find her to be the loving presence that I didn’t know I needed. The dog just loved everybody.

A couple of years ago I had a table saw accident that left me needing reconstructive hand surgery. It was incredibly stressful and emotionally grueling. All of my work and projects and everything I was so busy with would come grinding to a halt for the next few months. My girlfriend moved me into her house for a week and took time off work- thankfully the kids were away at summer camp. My girlfriend’s dog never really left my side. I remember the dog licking my gimpy hand every so often and then pressing in to me and going to sleep, which prompted me go to sleep. I don’t remember much of that week, except my girlfriend smiling and her really sweet dog. It sounds really silly, and perhaps it was the massive amount of post-op hyrdromorphone I was prescribed, but I figured I should probably take the example of the dog that I told my girlfriend not to get and find a way to dig in a little deeper with her and the kids.

Connection can be a struggle and there’s no manual on the right way to go about it. Sometimes it takes a sweet dog after a traumatic event to help you see what you should be doing. Part fruit bat, part luck dragon, part polar bear (everybody is good and healthy, including my hand and the dog I told my girlfriend not to get). If a responsible adult in your life tells you they want a dog, you should tell them to go right ahead.

This knife was commissioned for a retired gentlemen who trains English Setters for hunting. Hunting Dogs, or Gun Dogs as they are called have been around for centuries. Particularly, the training of Setters can be traced back to Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leicester in the 1500’s. It was commissioned by a loving daughter, and has “Pop Pop” etched on the flat of the blade from his grandchildren.

Removing material in the handle make for a more balanced blade.

Everything profiled out. Being that it is made from thinner stock, it will go in the forge as is to prevent warping during hardening.

The blade needs to come to critical temperature, which is around 1500F. By the colors you can see that it is almost there.

After the quench. There wasn’t warpage but I still clamp it in the vise at the areas where it would typically bend. When it comes out of the oil it is around 300-400F, and during this time any major warps can be corrected before it cools.

The bevels have been ground in and machine finished to 120 grit.

This has been hand sanded up to 600 grit, finishing with vertical pulls. This will get etched in acid to provide a scaffold for the patina to build, and also give it a more rustic look.

Electro-chemical etching using nail polish, some salted vinegar and a nine volt battery with some alligator clips. This allows me to essentially burn text onto the steel.

A pair of Carthartt work dungarees, probably about 10 years old.

Instructions for Care:

Your knife is made of high carbon steel, which means it will take a keen edge, hold it a good while, and will be easy to sharpen. It has been etched in acid and shipped to you coated in food safe mineral oil. It will stain and patina and tell the stories of the places you’ve been. Be sure to keep your knife clean and oiled when not in use. Should you find any unpleasant surface oxidization you can remove it easily with a lightly oiled bit of 0000 steel wool, or a coarse rag with a bit vinegar on it. She is built to be used, so don’t be shy about getting her dirty.

You can read more about Gun Dogs here, as well as find more resources on this very old tradition

Knifemaking: when things break down and the Skin Yer Dinner

June 1, 2016June 7, 2016 / ballardmidyette / Leave a comment

“The place to improve the world is first in one’s own heart and head and hands and then work outward from there”

Robert M. Persig- Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

One of the major lessons of life is that things are going to break down. It doesn’t matter how well the schedule of maintenance is managed, no matter how well oiled and lubricated all the moving parts are, or how diligently things are inspected.

At some point or another things just aren’t going to work the way that they are supposed to and sometimes it takes more than just ourselves to get them repaired.

As I’ve gotten older I’m a little more mindful of this. Sort of. It’s been a bit of a process actually. I do my best to not let my things go to shit. Some of those things are easier for me to do than others but it’s definitely better than it has been in the past. Part of this tendency to let things go to shit comes from living in a consumer society. Things aren’t necessarily built to be repaired. They are meant to be consumed and thrown away. If it breaks, buy something newer and shinier and better. Fixing things takes time and often it is very appealing to go and buy a new one rather than repair what you have as best you are able. This notion goes for more than just our material possessions.

Sometimes I find myself having to repair things that I have let completely go to shit. Sometimes it’s in my professional life, sometimes it’s in my relationships, sometimes it’s my truck. It’s important to not beat yourself up (or anybody else) when something goes to shit, which it inevitably will.

My truck. I like to drive mid to late ’90s Japanese midsize SUVs because they perform really well, are built on truck chassis, and are relatively easy to fix and find parts for. Sometimes it’s a little stressful because I don’t always know what I am doing and turns into an exercise in not over-thinking. It’s also an exercise in observing how you operate when things aren’t working as they should. I did a brake job the other month. I’ve never done my own brakes before but the idea of saving a couple hundred dollars sounded good. The passenger side wheel took me two and a half hours- during which time I removed the entire brake caliper by mistake, and accidentally drained all of the brake fluid. The driver side wheel took me 45 minutes. After several attempts to bleed my brake lines of the air inside on my own, I had to take my truck to my mechanic who talks to me like I am ten years old (‘Son, why the hell did you disconnect the brake line?’).

In taking on these sorts of projects, I go through the entire spectrum of human emotion and always become more intimate with myself. It’s important to trust yourself, and to let go of the fear that you will screw something up more than it already is. To take that intention of helping something to do what it does and to manifest that into whatever you are working on.

The intimacy thing- it goes for more than knowing just yourself. Sometimes I have help on these projects. Sometimes I help those close to me on their things. It’s good to have someone who can pick up on something you may have missed, who can help you laugh, and help ease your anxieties. In these situations a lot of the masks come off and you can really get to know someone without pretense or pontification because there is a common goal. It’s reassuring knowing that when something goes wrong you can help yourself, or help somebody else, or be helped. The deeper lesson is that things will always break down, ourselves included, but they don’t have to stay that way.

This blade was a commission for a fourteen year-old boy, the son of a really wonderful friend of mine who is an HVAC technician, someone who in his professional life brings the broken and neglected into good working order. The other week my girlfriend and I were working on her HVAC system which had gone out. We put a new fan motor in and were a bit hesitant on the wiring. I called my friend, who came over and wired up the motor and rewired the thermostat on pretty short notice. His son was with him and asked me for a knife… and also asked that it be called the Skin Yer Dinner…

I started with a piece of 1095 spring steel…