Knifemaking: soldiering on and the Rio Bravo

“Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes into us at midnight very clean. It’s perfect when it arrives and it puts itself in our hands. It hopes we’ve learned something from yesterday.”

― John Wayne

soldier on: phrasal verb with soldier. to continue doing something although it is difficult

  • Cambridge Advanced Learner’s Dictionary and Thesaurus

This blade was a commission for the father of a gentleman who is a professional videographer.   I came to know this gentleman after building a knife for him.  He called and asked if I could make a blade for a very special person- his father.

When I first met with the client, we talked for about an hour.  He showed me a short film he had made about his father, his father’s deep love of football, and how it brought the two of them closer as adults.  The film was quite stunning.  The NFL thought so too- it won their family tickets to the Super Bowl.

In the film, he told his father’s story of how he lost a chance to play for the Baltimore Colts, losing out to Johnny Unitas.  What followed was a strained relationship where the client really didn’t get a chance to know his father.  The film documented how football brought bonding and healing.  He asked if I could make a blade with an element of the game that his father loves.

I felt quite a bit of anxiety in making this blade.  I had to design it and give it a life for somebody’s loved one whom I had never met before.  It took a very long time because I really wanted to make the right statement.  The recipient of this blade is a man’s man, stoic, and has taken his licks.  He has a bit of cowboy in him- John Wayne was mentioned during our talk.  I named it the Rio Bravo after the John Wayne film.  Wayne was 51 when he starred in the film but still kicks a lot of ass.

I write this from a man’s perspective.  As a man I have a hard time dealing with difficult emotions and I think most men would agree that it is a bitch coming to terms with them.  They don’t go away, they just sit and fester if not dealt with.  In dealing with them we often fall apart, have meltdowns, withdraw, avoid, and sometimes leave a path of destruction.  You want to succeed, to have a purpose, to leave your mark on the world, and make things right.  When that doesn’t happen you can find yourself questioning your self-worth.  I don’t have children but when there are little ones looking up to you and watching you I imagine it adds that much more pressure.

The lesson of the Rio Bravo is that no matter what you soldier on.  The only way out is through.  You show up, you do the work, you laugh, you cry, and you take the bitter with the sweet.   I crafted this blade for a man who has done all of that and serves as an inspiration of what soldiering on earns you.

The beautiful part of this commission has been seeing how inspiring the healing can be.  A son did this for a father where there was pain on both ends.  The client showed me, a stranger, this incredibly vulnerable and moving film.  It’s hard to imagine the courage it took to make that film and to put an intimate story out into the world.

I loved working with this client.  There were multiple conversations about designs and materials.  He is an artist and we can talk about concrete things in abstract and obtuse ways.  At the end of it he always told me to do what I thought and that he trusted me.   This is where I started:

 

 

Some jimping for grip, and a nod to the laces of a football. 

Rough Grind

Hardened…

….and tempered

I wanted something with the feel of a football…

I cut it into strips and glued it together….

…and it failed miserably.  Still, I really wanted to work the leather in.  That’s the spirit of football even though it isn’t pigskin.  I was also really into the idea of having a part of something that once walked the earth be a part of this blade.  I wanted this to be a very masculine blade, with a southwestern theme.  For me it doesn’t get much more manly than the combination of Texas Mesquite, leather, and steel.  I put in some thin tin spacers for a bit of sparkle.
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I have a cousin in Texas who is a woodturner with a sawmill.  He handpicks cutoffs with the most gorgeous figures and sends them to me.  When I’m using his wood for a handle it’s like Christmas morning- think of opening your favorite Christmas present, only you get to do it for two and a half hours.  Thank you Bill Cockrell.  You are a very good man.

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The Rio Bravo: etched 1095 spring steel, Texas Mesquite handle, leather and tin spacers, with steel hardware.  
    I carved in some laces:
   

Soldier on, cowboy.  You never know what tomorrow may bring.

Knifemaking: presence, vulnerability, and the Forester

“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:

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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…
IMG_1849 And autumn when the leaves fall:IMG_1591And winter:IMG_1615And spring: IMG_1788

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.

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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.

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