Thoughts On Turning

I’ve been turning for just over a month now; enough time to develop a bit of competence, but still fresh enough to provide some initial impressions. In learning to use the lathe I am practicing what many would consider, at least in terms of commercial production, to be a dying art. Consequently, it is quite exciting to be involved in the promotion of this act of craft. Craft (an act of human production worthy of devoting time to in pursuit of perfection) plays an important role in what I do, & I often find myself contemplating the intricacies of the process. What is the quality that attracts people toward hand crafted objects? What is the essential observable difference between a handmade object & a machined product? How is value imparted on a material through interaction with human hands? These are questions I will surely be reflecting on for quite some time.

When I observe other turners (especially Shawn) I am amazed at the speed, precision & definition of their cuts. I know in time my cuts will reach a similar standard, but I am eager for that time to be now. However, turning is not a skill you can rush to be better at, you can’t speed up the time it takes your body to learn the subtleties of interacting with a piece of spinning wood. Subtlety is key to understanding this activity - the slightest change of angle between blade & wood, the smallest shift of weight, the most minute adjustments make an incredible difference in the crispness of a cut. Everyday my awareness increases & as my body begins to slowly processes & perform the necessary subtleties I realize that like most things worth learning turning requires patience & commitment.

Turning is a physical & sensuous activity. As I turn I watch each cut & the shavings coming off the edge of the blade, I hear a certain hiss when I’m cutting correctly, & I feel a smoothness, a lack of vibration, coming through the handle of my chisel. As shavings pile up the smell of the wood enters my nose & a discernible taste forms on the tip of my tongue (Sapelle, an African hardwood is spicy, while Fir is sweeter & a bit salty). At times, when I get aggressive & cut too quickly, the taste & smell are tainted by a faint burnt odor. With every cut I make I consider the position of my body, shifting weight from one foot to another in a steady rhythm - attempting, in each cut, to create smoothness. I feel I should develop a ritual around these slow intentional movements, they so strongly echo the eastern practices of yoga, tai chi, martial arts, & other forms of bodily awareness. When combined correctly this attention to the senses, to the body, to the interaction with the wood, creates cuts which leave a sheen on the surface of the piece - cuts so clean they need not be sanded.

In addition to the physical aspect of the work turning can also be compellingly mental. The sensual awareness, thoughtful movement, & attentiveness to immediate experience can lead to a very meditative state. There is a certain proper place for the mind to occupy during good turning, a place of attention yet detachment. The spinning wood becomes a mantra - hypnotically silent save for my injections.

These are early impressions. I have not yet pieced together all the parts of the exercise, & I still have plenty to learn on my way to becoming a craftsman, but already I am recognizing this as fulfilling work. Work that I can contemplate, and be challenged by & grow into.