As I entered “The Forge” I felt I was stumbling upon
someone’s secret place. A place full of their favorite things, a place where
they had hidden found treasures.
The walls were adorned with animal skins, aging metal, and ratty cloth;
it was a salvage heaven.
This place was a man’s fortress, where he knew he could go
and be vulnerable, where he would be comfortable to make mistakes and learn,
where he would be courageous in experimenting, and where he could celebrate the
creation of something he was proud of.
“The Forge” is where we found Mike in his niche. “The Forge”
is where Mike has developed his craft.
Mike is an old friend, a loved father, and a successful
businessman, but in the light of the fire burning inside the gas forger, he is
an artist. Mike is a metal craftsman; He forms his art from steel rods and old
rusting silver.
As he hammers and shapes metal, he let’s the pieces of
material guide the vision for what he’s creating.
Mike says that he doesn’t always have a distinct idea for a
piece,
He says, “I
pour a glass of scotch and I go down to ‘The Forge’ and look around.”
He likes to let his materials tell him what to do.
His shop is patina paradise, full of metal odds and ends that us by standards would have no idea what kind of use to put it to.
His shop is patina paradise, full of metal odds and ends that us by standards would have no idea what kind of use to put it to.
Mike is in love with aging steel, his eyes sparkle when he
explains the texture and color of his ideal piece of ancient material– pitted
and rough. He recycles metals into sculptures, furniture, and hardware; objects
of depth and use, objects with a story and a history.
The majority of Mike’s tools are hand crafted; as I watched
him work there was something so romantic about using a creation to create.
“The Forge” had aged nicely, the walls and dirt floor looked
worn, but loved. As I stood analyzing Mike’s process, I got caught up in the
mood of it all. The sounds of raging fire in the gas forger was organic and
attractive in combination with the clings of steel on steel, being repeatedly
hammered and formed into something new and original.
As Nathan adjusted his hasselblad camera according to light
and composition, it was like jumping back and forth from past to present…
Nathan’s craft complementing Mike’s craft. I felt oddly nostalgic, aching for
the age when film cameras and innovative black smith work wasn’t as minoritized.
Mike pulled a red-hot steel rod out of the gas forger and
quickly went to work on it. Racing against the time it took for the rod to
cool…Heating, and shaping, reheating, and reshaping; creating. As he formed and
twisted the rod, he held it up in front of him and said, “ I don’t know what
it’s going to be yet.” He squinted into the tank of fire waiting for his
utensil to be ready to rework. After texturizing the piece of steel with a meat
tenderizer, he realized he created an object that was beautiful, he said, “This
will become a piece of a something, of which I’m not sure yet.”
The excitement he received from creating a new object
empowered and fomented him, inspiring him to continue.
There’s a unique sense of appreciation and fulfillment for
such a bodily method of handiwork. Creation through a physical process provides
an irreplaceable feeling.
Mike had a poster up on the wall that he had tailored to his
liking; there he had written a handful of words on the surface of the paper
that defined his motivation and sincerity. I read, “IDEAS + ENERGY = REAL
WEALTH”
Mike works as a designer in an advertisement agency; Mike is
a huntsman, a carpenter, a fisherman, and a blacksmith; through all of these
things, Mike is an artist.
