this image to represent my focus for the ITE, I didn’t realize that part of the ITE for me would be about mending brokenness and learning again to value the self that broke.
The atmosphere in the shop is very playful. Everyone is engaged in a fresh way.
Sean’s work is as unpredictable as ever. This morning he had cut beads into the exterior of the osage orange piece on the lathe.
Later, this is how the piece had developed: Sean colored the interior bright scarlet. Then he cut the beads nearly apart on the bandsaw and inserted ebony wedges to open up and bend the form. Stay tuned: this piece is still evolving.
This is how far he has come on the first piece he started, the oak ring sculpture. Here, he is holding in position three of the carved pieces. A fourth is not shown.
Siegfried has turned some deep bowls of box elder in addition to the wave forms he continues work on.
I don’t know, but judging from their shapes, I suspect that these bowls may be intended for a collaboration with Jean-François.
Peter helped Siegfried out by cutting a stack of poplar for Siegfried to turn into waves.
Jean-François turned another form for a new cement vessel. He has textured the interior (for the exterior of the cement bowl) with an Arbortech.
He also continues with his oak bowl series. Here, he is parting off the second bowl.
Peter manages to get some of his own work done despite spending most of his days helping everyone else. Here is his first wall piece, made from used concrete forms. The oak frame was colored using Jean-François’s vinegar-and-steel-wool technique.
While Peter was busy helping others, Jane tried on a few of his honey-locust-and-cable pieces for size. I’m not sure Peter has realized that his work is wearable.
Peter also pitched in to try to repair a dripping air-conditioning unit.
Then we talked him into doing another master class in cement casting. He added cable segments and glitter (are you paying attention, Hilary?) to this sample.
Jane used a piece of chainsawn honey locust to cast another sample. Siegfried added a wave/whale’s tail.
I tried my hand at forming a freehand bowl over a pile of shavings.
After removing the first sample from the form, Peter used water and a wire brush to expose the cable before the cement had finished setting.
On the left, you can see the cast chainsawn texture from the second sample. I will burn out the shavings from my sample after the cement has set overnight. I didn’t achieve much of a bowl shape, but it did give me a feel for the process for a more serious attempt.
Jean-François’s third vessel will be a hollow form. To cast the interior, he turned a form from a two-inch block of Styrofoam.
He then suspended the form from a stick using double-stick tape . . .
and mixed and poured the cement. This mix is gray, in between the white and black of the first two bowls. Tomorrow, he will use acetone or lacquer thinner to dissolve the Styrofoam form, leaving a void in its place.
Yesterday and today were big days for Jean-François. Here is what I found on Jean-François’s workbench this morning.
He has had the idea for cement bowls in his mind for five years now. Beginning yesterday, he is seeing his vision fulfilled.
He proceeded to make a second bowl after a trip to Home Depot for some black cement color. He used the same mold as for the first one, but he altered it by turning and carving some decoration into the forms for this bowl. You can see the horizontal grooves in the outer form, which will become beads on the cement bowl. You can also see some carved facets on the inner form. The inner form is suspended and held in place by screws in the top crosspiece of wood. Oil has been applied to the wood surfaces to aid in releasing the set cement.
Peter helped him with the whole process. Here, Peter is tapping the outer form to release bubbles from the cement. This doesn’t get rid of all of them, but it reduces their number and perhaps their size.
Then it was a matter of waiting. Finally, after six or so hours, Jean-François and Peter began trying to release the bowl from the mold. Tapping didn’t work, though it had for the first bowl. The texturing of the wood for this second bowl made the release more difficult. Jean-François ended up turning the assemblage (this was easy to do, because the outer form was still mounted on a faceplate), first cutting away most of the inner form, then carefully chiseling the remainder loose. Finally, the remaining form came loose and lifted out.
You can see the grain impressions left by the wood, as well as bubbles that didn’t get released. In the background is the inner form that was removed.
Jean-François also thinned the outer form on the lathe. He and Peter then split what was left of the outer form and peeled it from the cement.
Jean-François will give what remains of the forms to Sean to use.
The pair of bowls. Jean-François will make a third cement bowl tomorrow.
What Jean-François worked on while he waited for the cement to set was this oak bowl and another, to go with the red-and-black one from yesterday. He painted the second one with white acrylic and burned it to blacken the ridges.
When Peter wasn’t working with Jean-François yesterday and today, he was working on wall pieces using blocks of the wood he is using in his bench—which is not cherry but honey locust, everyone agrees—and cable he brought with him from home.
This is an experiment by Peter and Jean-François from yesterday. They formed cement over a pile of chainsaw shavings and then burned the shavings out with a torch. I love the texture and the idea of a freeform cement bowl.
Working in his own corner, Sean did more carving on the components for his oak sculpture.
He also worked on turning a deep bowl of osage orange.
Siegfried continued making wave forms for a collaborative piece.
As for me, after watching the cement pouring by Jean-François and Peter, and servicing the electric chainsaw with Jane and help from Sean, I started a vessel from an unknown wood with a large split down the side. Tomorrow, Jean-François is going to teach me some texturing techniques with the Arbortech, which I plan to use on this new piece. I also did more carving on the lip of the pear hollow vessel.
It was a fairly quiet day at the shop after our big day yesterday.
Jean-François turned another oak bowl with some interesting coloring: a base of red dye augmented with acrylic and other elements, and black over that with vinegar, then wax.
He also started turning bowls of ailanthus that he will use to cast a cement bowl. I can’t wait to see how this goes.
Sean continued work on his Cryptomeria bowl. After painting and dying the textured exterior, he further hollowed and carved the interior, then sanded it.
Siegfried worked on a large project on which he would like all of us to collaborate, involving turned wave forms combined into a larger wave. Here, he plays with some of the forms before planning his next move.
He later consulted with Peter about the project.
Peter went about making a frame for a wall piece using some of his used concrete forms. In the course of using the table saw, he found the shop’s push stick inadequate, so he made his own in the style of his alma mater, RIT (Rochester Institute of Technology).
I got off to a slow start, because I was sore from hauling logs. I warmed up by helping Jane inventory lumber, then finished the pear bowl I started yesterday. I hadn’t intended to leave the bark on, but it didn’t come off during turning as I expected, and I like it, so for now it stays. I’ll see what happens as the bowl dries before doing the carving I had planned. (I also included the pith near the foot and am waiting to see if it cracks open during drying.)
The photo above illustrates the magic of masking tape. I have the bowl reversed on a domed block with a foam pad in between. I used the tailstock to position the bowl and kept it in place to turn as much of the foot as possible. But to remove the interior of the foot, I had to move the tailstock. The masking tape miraculously holds if you tape the piece well and make only light cuts. If you try this at home, be prepared to react quickly if anything starts to move. And don’t blame me if you choose to take the risk and you get a catch.
A play day! Gus, Jane, Jean-François, Siegfried, and I took Peter to the wood dump, and we loaded up again. I confess I went overboard, but, hey, someone will use the wood, right?
Here is Gus, master chainsaw artist, at work.
Peter proved himself pretty adept with a chainsaw himself. Here, he is cutting a large cherry log for a bench he wants to make while he’s here. He also taught Jane and me how to use the chainsaw safely.
We cut so much we had to stop to sharpen. Gus showed us all how to sharpen the chain properly with a round file.
Peter, our resident furniture maker, cut a cube from a log segment and stacked the remainder of the log on the cube. Voilà! His first ITE chair. It won’t make the exhibition, however, since it came apart when he tossed what was left of the log on the pile.
Communicating across languages is no problem for Jean-François and Jane. In fact, the English language skills of both Jean-François and Siegfried have improved significantly since the beginning. Meanwhile, none of the rest of us has improved in the least our French or German. Peter has been trying out his high school (or was it junior high?) French. Jean-François laughs.
Back at the shop, Peter, Jean-François, and I experimented with quick-setting cement that Peter brought with him. The possibilities are interesting.
Peter couldn’t wait for the cement to dry before taking apart the form. Jean-François thought perhaps he should wait.
Jean-François (whom Peter had earlier accused of stealing his pencil) awarded Peter a pencil for a good demonstration of his use of cement, then took it back when Peter’s first sample came apart because Peter had removed it from the form before it had set. Peter later earned the pencil back with a successful second sample. Now, he has two pencils: his own and the one from Jean-François.
Peter roughed out the shape for his bench in the shop with an electric chainsaw. The log is finally light enough for him to be able to stand it up by himself.
Now he is using a power planer to further shape the wood.
Turning actually went on in the shop today too. Sean has turned a bowl of Cryptomeria on three or four centers and is texturing each face differently.
I started a new pear bowl, and Jean-François turned another oak bowl.
Yesterday evening, Broad Street (a.k.a. Avenue of the Arts) closed just a few blocks up from us for a small jazz festival with Branford Marsalis, part of Philadelphia’s celebration of the Fourth of July. I strolled up and swayed to the music for a bit, but was so exhausted from hauling logs that I couldn’t stay. Home to blog for me!
We finally connected with Peter on Sunday. He had difficulty getting into the dorm when he arrived Saturday evening, but all has been resolved now, and he is settling into the shop as well.
Sunday evening after a fairly quiet day in the shop, we all headed out to Collegeville, PA, to visit Greg and Regina Rhoa. There, we were treated to a feast for the eyes as well as the lips. They have proportionally less wood art than in other collections we have seen, because they have so much art of other media (glass, ceramics, metal, mixed media, paintings, prints), and some of their wood art is furniture. It is all beautifully displayed, with pieces of whatever media complementing each other wonderfully. My photos fail to capture the whole ambiance (my lens wasn’t wide enough), so I have elected to focus instead on some of the largest groupings of wood in their home. Remember as you look at the photos below: you may think you are looking at all wood, but the pieces you see may in fact be ceramic or glass. I very much enjoyed the mix of media.
After savoring their collection, they treated us to a delicious home-cooked Puerto Rican dinner. Greg, apparently, is a gourmet chef, and Regina, a gourmet baker. Notice the Mark Sfirri pieces on the table.
This is Anderson Hall, the building on Broad Street that houses the University of the Arts Wood Department (among others). The wood shop is on the fourth floor.
I digress, but this is the more interesting (architecturally speaking) building next door: the (former) Chambers-Wylie Memorial Presbyterian Church, which now houses the Broad Street Ministry.
The old Chambers-Wylie sign.
Back to the UArts building. When you get off the elevator at the fourth floor, this is what you see. And, yes, the lights are often off, since not many other people are working in the building over the summer.
The front room of the wood shop houses most of the woodworking equipment and our wood piles.
The second room of the shop is where we’ve spread out the boxes of stuff we got from the Wood Turning Center. These contain tools and supplies left over from past ITEs. The cupboards at the end of the room house all manner of hand tools: carving chisels, hand saws, hammers, mallets, screwdrivers, planes, etc.
Here’s where you enter the Magic Kingdom. My work station is the first one you see, straight ahead.
We have four lathes back here: three Oneways and a Stubby. We each have at least one workbench, a few lamps, and a lockable cupboard.
Jean-François works across from me, so I’m most familiar with what he’s up to throughout the day.
Behind him is Siegfried’s area.
Sean’s corner is behind me and across from Siegfried.
We have piled the turning tools and lathe accessories from the Wood Turning Center on one workbench between Siegfried and Sean so that they are easily accessible.
Behind Siegfried is a shared carving station.
The turning room as seen from the corner behind Siegfried. The area in the far background is storing unused workbenches. We will clear space there for Peter, who showed up at the shop this morning.
This is the Pine Street view of Furness Hall, our dormitory.
The Pine Street entrance to the Furness Hall complex. We can park here to unload. The window to the right of the entrance is the security guards’ office.
Through that entrance is a courtyard. Our rooms are across the courtyard, through this entrance, past vending machines, and up the elevator. Out of the picture to the right is Hamilton Hall.
This is what greets us after we get of the elevator and open the door to the third-floor hallway.
Behind us when we turn the corner is another mural.
Looking back down the hallway toward the elevator. Jean-François’s door is on the left closest to the mural, the second door is to the community room, and the foreground door is to a room still empty, perhaps for Elisabeth Agro, our scholar.
My living area. To the left is a refrigerator and a desk, where I pile bags. The kitchen area is to the right, along with entrances to the bedrooms. I’ve just finished a puzzle on this table, which is also where I eat and read the weekly newspapers. The rooms are very tall, so the light from the overhead lamp is very dim and the rooms are fairly dark at night (I brightened this photo considerably).
My kitchen area. I try not to use the oven, as the air-conditioning unit is only in the bedroom. We have a microwave oven and pots and pans in the community room down the hall. At the far right is the corridor to the bedroom I don’t use. The door next to the fire extinguisher is to the bathroom. As you can see, I keep my tripod next to the cupboard where I occasionally photograph vessels.
My bathroom and the hallway to the bedroom I use, along which is a doorless closet containing a bureau. Below is the closet itself.
Here is where I spend many hours working on photographs and writing the blog. I can get only the faintest of wifi signals in my room, so I can’t do much online from my desk, but I can size photos and draft text. And listen to music while I work. I ripped some 180 hours of music from my CD collection before I left, and I’m glad to have it. And I bless every day the past ITEr who left this cushion behind. This wooden chair was pretty uncomfortable before I found the pillow among the ITE stuff.
My bureau and the desk I use as a nightstand. This is definitely dorm living: I spent fifteen minutes cleaning the gummy residue off of this desk before I could set anything down on it.
My bed. I stole a mattress from the other bedroom so that I could double up. The two mattresses together are just soft enough to sleep comfortably. The top mattress is so stained and torn that I did not want to sleep on it even as the bottom of two mattresses, so I left it up top to pile my laundry and laptop bag on.
The window air-conditioning unit. I have used it surprisingly little, but there have been a few days when being without it would have been really uncomfortable. I have no doubt I will be using it a lot more in July.
My living area as seen from the bedroom door. The cables hanging by the door just hang there.
Leaving my luxury suite, I often take the stairs down instead of the elevator.
Going down the stairs takes me into the lovely part of the courtyard, which, as befits a university of the arts, is full of sculptures.
I love the voluptuous goddess figure lurking behind the Buddha.
There are also benches and tables in the courtyard area. I sometimes sit down here to go online, as does Jean-François. The entrance to our building is in the glare beyond the benches. The building to the right is Hamilton Hall.
Hamilton Hall is the closest place to get a strong wifi connection, so this is where you will find me and Jean-François after dinner, in various (separate) nooks and corners.
Also in Hamilton Hall, is the UArts Cantina, where from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. you can get eggs, a bagel, a sandwich, a salad, coffee, etc. This is the view I usually have, as I sit in the open area (below) at night to work on the blog and make video calls without disturbing anyone.
A previous ITEr has suggested that I share something about life in the ITE outside the workshop: “where we live, where we eat, where we walk . . . the stuff of life in the ITE.” This raises an interesting point about this year’s ITE: how focused on work we are.
Unlike what I understand to be true of past ITEs, since we actually began working, we four hardly see each other outside of the workshop. We don’t eat together; we don’t drink together; we don’t hang out together; we don’t walk around together; we don’t socialize together, except on our planned excursions. Some combination of us (but not all at once) will occasionally go to the hardware or grocery store together, especially if we need to drive there.
There is comradery and good humor in the shop when we’re working together. Most of us stop and look at what our colleagues are doing. We ask and answer questions. We share pointers. We share tools. We make jokes. We work.
Sometimes I think I talk to everyone more than anyone else, because I walk around periodically to take photos and I ask (at the least) about whatever I’m photographing. I’m not sure I would ever have a conversation with Sean if not for this function.
As far as I know, Siegfried is the only one who does anything but work. Sean comes in early, takes a long lunch, comes back, and works late. Sometimes Sean goes out to buy supplies. Jean-François comes in early but not so early, takes a long lunch, comes back, and works late. Sometimes Jean-François runs errands. I come in later (early for me, sometimes after working in my room on the computer for a couple of hours), work through lunch, and leave at 6:30 or 7 or 7:30 or 7:45 to eat and call home, and then I work on photos and the blog until 11 or 12 or 1 or later. I see Jean-François in passing when we go next door at night to go online (we don’t have wifi in our rooms). Siegfried takes the time to walk or bike around town, to eat out, to look around, to meet people. Tonight, he made himself go out despite his fatigue, and he happened upon a rock concert, where he had a good time.
Working double duty takes its toll. I’m exhausted every night, and I fear it shows in my blog posts. I feel like I don’t have the extra energy to socialize. Then again, tonight I went out for dinner and a beer with Jane and her honey (my first evening out), and I’m still up and going, though it’s now 3:15—not an unusual hour for me to be up at home, but not a time I’ve managed to see here until now.
For my part, another reason I don’t socialize with the boys is that I’m tired of planning our group’s social activities. I have ended up planning all of our visits, contacting all of our hosts, finding compatible dates, recontacting our hosts, getting directions, driving us—this is not a role I enjoy, but these are trips I want to make, so I’ve stepped up to make them happen. I have spent many hours doing so, and just the trip to D.C. alone was worth the effort, but—can you tell?—I’ve reached my limit. I wish that the Wood Turning Center would take on some of this task, but the one time I asked for help, the scheduling ended up back in my lap.
I want to turn. To turn nearly as much as I’d like, I spend what otherwise might be free time keeping up with photos and the blog. And I feel pressure to turn. I’m sure Siegfried does also. The current of Sean’s and Jean-François’s drive to produce is sweeping us all along. I feel the pressure to keep up despite what I know about my own need for balance, despite what I tell myself about taking in this experience, despite what Albert has told us about not needing to produce but needing only to experience.
There is exchange happening, for me, in the shop. In my turning, I find myself responding to what others are doing or to conversations I’ve had with them (I will try to relay some of these conversations in future posts; I’ve had a few good ones). What I see and hear sparks ideas, and I’m trying them. It’s not imitation, though I’m borrowing some techniques; it’s inspiration: I’m inhaling everything around me and letting my body translate what my blood absorbs into my own expression. According to Albert, this is a form of collaboration, and it feels like it, though I haven’t yet actively worked on any pieces with anyone else. Siegfried and Jean-François have both spoken with me separately about collaborating. Jean-François and I have a specific project in mind. Siegfried and I are still sussing out the possibilities.
Time to go to the shop, dear readers. This is how it is at the moment, here in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, at the 2007 International Turning Exchange. I’m not complaining (much!); I have tried to simply describe what is so. This may all change today. Peter Harrison, our furniture maker, arrives this afternoon to spend two weeks with us. And tomorrow evening, we take a little break to visit the Rhoas in Collegeville, PA. For now, this has been a valuable reminder that there can be life outside of the workshop here in the ITE. I just have to step outside.
I forgot to include my favorite photo from yesterday. Jane, the shop supervisor, is our official problem solver, without whom we couldn’t spend nearly as much time working. In the course of solving our problems, she has to spend a lot of time on the phone: ordering supplies and equipment, securing a phone for us in the shop, finding a place to buy a used bike—you pose the problem, she’ll figure it out.
And can I add how grateful I am to have another woman around?
Jean-François continues on with his oak bowls. He has decided that what was to be the third bowl in his latest series is too different from the first two, so he’ll keep the pair together, but make two more to go with the third bowl. (Note: Despite how they appear in these photos, the third bowl is slightly smaller—and thinner-walled—than the first two.)
Sean has installed the legs on his walnut bowl and is finishing them up. This is the underside of the piece, but you can see bleaching that seeped through from his bleaching of the bowl itself.
This is another scrap Sean pulled from the pile to turn. I suppose it can be considered another collaboration with me, since I cut the arc you see in order to remove a piece to use as a jam chuck.
I had fun working on my cherry bowl today. I recut the surface along two of the axes before I liked what I had, then I carved a little on the top using spherical cutters in the Foredom. The top surface and the bowl are smooth; the exterior is covered with gouge marks—which were surprisingly hard to create consistently. A sharp gouge just wants to cut cleanly. I had to be sure to stay off of the bevel to leave cut marks. I’m not sure how I feel about this bowl. It’s completely unlike anything I have ever made before (which is one of the opportunities of the ITE, after all), and at one point I had titled it “Ugly on Four Axes.” It has grown on me, however, and I think I may like it. These pictures don’t do it justice.
Siegfried wasn’t in the shop a lot today. I’m concerned about his continuing lack of energy. His heart rate isn’t back to normal either. What would you do in a foreign country with a condition that is no longer considered “emergent” but isn’t nearly “cured”? Could you afford to do anything about it? Can he afford not to?