From gluing to carving...Malinda

Yesterday, after doing a quick writing assignment, I got back to the work of creating the horses that will make up the Berkshire Carousel. There was a need to create a glued up block for a headless horse. Phil gave me the dimensions, and my experience from some previous days kicked in. It is amazing how quickly you can become somewhat skilled in these things. My first full day at the carousel, I learned the gluing technique as I put together Malinda's head and neck blocks. Perhaps I am a fast learner.

Photo by Katy Levesque

Then I got to carving on Malinda's body. All of the body parts for this horse are spelled this way, and in some cases, the traditional "e", the second letter, has been crossed out, and changed to an "a". Some other "newcomer" volunteers, who had been used to the traditional spelling of the name inquired about this. (Some of us had been in teaching before coming to the carousel, and we are very aware of names and spelling.)

There is a story behind the name, and I am finding out there is a story behind every horse. The name is actually Ma-Linda, in memory of a wonderful woman named Linda who was also a great Ma to her kids. Malinda is a large horse, and will be one of the more ornately decorated horses on the carousel.

I marvel at how carving is done. A drawing is traced onto the blocks with anatomical features such as eyes, jawbone, nose, teeth and mane. Bridle and straps are drawn, and flowers or other decorations on top of all of it. It is the carvers job to remove wood with a variety of chisels so that all of the features of the drawing are apparent. Determining the center line is critical so the anatomical parts and straps match up. The right side of the horse will be the decorated or romantic side, and also the more challenging side for the carver.

A good three dimensional eye is required as the carver determines where the deepest parts of the carving will be, usually the body skin of the horse. Material is removed gradually down to that level, leaving high the saddle, blankets, straps, flowers and other adornments. The article closest to the horses flesh or perhaps the jawbone, is the next level to carve to, and so on until the three dimensions are carved to the drawings, and the original blocks of wood are rounded into a shape that resembles the structure of a horse.

It takes the patience that I spoke of earlier. And since this is a huge volunteer effort, involving hundred of people over 6 or 7 years, lots of collaboration on the part of the master carvers. It was described as the largest volunteer permanent art project ever attempted in Massachusetts. It is good to be part of it.

First official assignment

Recently, I was asked to write a couple of articles for the Berkshire Carousel Newsletter, which will appear mostly online, especially on Facebook.

A creative young lady named Katy has been posting progress reports on the horses, mostly through pictures that she snaps as she roams through the workshop while she takes a break from painting the horses. Her latest effort is forty photos of  horses that have been completed and are ready to mount on the mechanism that will arrive soon, and several that are works in progress, still needing paint, and additional carving. From Facebook, Berkshire Carousel Horses one can get an idea of the amazing work that is going on there.

My first assignment completed was about the rounding board that is to represent the Cummington Fair, which has taken place in the town of Cummington, 20 miles east of Pittsfield, for the last 144 years. 145 is coming up in August. I will probably go there this year. The truth is I hate fairs, but every time I go to one, I have a great time. Maybe, I like them more than I will admit.
My knowledge about rounding boards is minimal, nil actually. There is an example of one hanging in the workshop. I had the opportunity to talk with the artist Terri who is painting the board.

I am in awe of what goes into a painting: the imagination, the flights of fancy, the basic structure, the color, the joy. Terri's concept of this board represents the merry-go-round with flags flying, children screaming and playing. You can imagine the screams and shouts of joy if you let yourself be part of the action. You can smell the husky animals of the exhibitions as they are paraded on the fairground. And you can enjoy the sunshine and rolling hills of the Berkshires in this nostalgic setting.

Terri gave me some literature about the merry-go-round, its history, its demise. The Fair supervisors are attempting to rescue artifacts from the dispersed carousel, and certainly are evoking memories as they obtain memorabilia. It is a daunting project.

I learned about history, art, and rounding boards from this first completed assignment. I also gained much in my appreciation of the craft that goes into creating the wonders that give pleasure to so many, through the years and even centuries.

Collaboration to make ends meet

One productive virtue that comes to mind as I work at the Berkshire Carousel is collaboration, or working together in a consulting sort of way, where workers offer an approach to a problem, and then patiently listen to or watch another come at the situation in a different way. There is thankful acceptance of the other's idea, and work goes on.

This is most noticeable when it comes to deciding the best lines to use when carving a neck, head or torso of a horse. It went sort of this way. I asked Art if  I had carved deep enough on one part of the neck of Malinda, if it was rounded sufficiently. Of course the answer is usually, "You can go much deeper, but let's attach the head, to check the alignment and depth." He pointed out the importance of the windpipe, saying "The physiognomy of this horse demands that it be accentuated." "Wow!" I thought, as he uttered that word that I hardly have heard used since I read Jane Eyre about forty years ago.(Photo below shows the neck of Malinda as Art draws an area that needs carving; my hand holds the chisel in bottom left. The sawzall in the foreground is not a tool used in carving.)

photo by Katy Levesque

After I had worked on that for  a while, going deeper, rounding, preserving one aspect, eliminating some high spots,  Art came by to check again. This time, Becky,  conscientiously working on the head of  Malinda, had noticed some lines for belts  that seemed to be out of whack with lines on the other side of the head. Art checked it out. He redrew some lines, and was about to move away. Becky, however, recognized another problem (Becky has been carving at the Carousel for about five weeks when she volunteered for this duty with her husband John, who continues to meticulously carve the dental work for Thunderbolt). "If I carve those lines, then how will it line up with the neck. It will be different." I suddenly realized that her question affected what I was doing, so I perked up. We put the head back on the neck, and checked it out.

At this moment, a carver named Sue came on the scene, and in a flash recognized not only the problem, but the solution. With a pleasant "May I?", she picked up Art's pencil and drew on the neck the connection that needed to be made. My job was simplified again as she repeated the  phrase, "Go deeper along this line, and round it" and added  "just like your own jaw bone." We separated the head and the neck. Art picked up his pencil and gently erased some lines he had drawn, and smiling said: "Perspective is important. Thanks, Sue !" Problem solved until next time.

The collaboration among the four of us was important. The mighty horse Malinda will be well fashioned, bedecked in roses as she jumps on the carousel.

Horse Dental Work

The dentist pressed a gauze pad into my cheek, and injected a dose of Novocaine  A few moments later, he was drilling out the old filling, and soon into the decay that could eventually cause a big problem. The main discomfort for me was the slight aroma of smoke caused by the drill grinding on the old filling and the decayed part of the tooth. All this was done in preparation for a new crown that will probably last the next 35 years of my life. Then he pressed in some goo to make a mold, and finally placed a temporary cap on the tooth.

In the middle of all this, I told him about the Berkshire Carousel, how a team of master carvers were able to explain to amateurs, exactly what had to be done to render a likeness of a horse, and the amateurs were able to produce high quality carousel horses with some instruction and oversight. It seems to me, that the master carvers are great teachers.

I thought then about John, who has been carving at the carousel for a little over a month. A short time before that, he was a security wonk at a pharmaceutical company. He volunteered at the Berkshire Carousel, and suddenly he is working on a horse's head, and more specifically, over the past two weeks, on the horse's mouth. He talks to one of the main carvers, prowls around the finished horses. He gazes into each mouth, attempting to figure out the intricacies of how the lips, the teeth and the tongues of the horses interrelated, so that he can do the dental work on the horse called Thunderbolt. He notices the number and size of the teeth, the position of the tongue. Will the horse have an overbite? How much of the teeth will show behind the lips?

Then with the sharp chisel and knife, he gently scrapes away small bits of basswood, eventually forming the basic structure of Thunderbolt's  "smile";  such patience and attention, with definite pride as John works steadily at his practice of "dentistry."

I asked my dentist if he could explain his procedure to another person so that that person could do the dentistry. He thought about that for a minute, and said "You wouldn't want that to happen." I think that was a no, and he is right.

Complex simplicity- Missy's Tail

As I walked into the Berkshire Carousel workshop yesterday, I spied Phil who was smiling holding an object that he described as one of the strangest things he had ever produced in his workshop. I suppose it would have produced some curious answers at a "What's this" forum.
It was a small piece that was a series of glued up 3 inch blocks, lapped together, and twisted, the rough carving as it turned out, for Missy's (the donkey on the Carousel) tail. He demonstrated how this was going to work. It was about a 3 inch square piece , that twisted out to about 18 inches long. It would be mortised into the back side of the torso, with the twist going to the right, and anchored at the other end to the donkey's thigh. It is difficult to conceive, let alone write about.
I asked about the mortise, "Would that be square as the block is currently?" He demonstrated that there were several possible ways the tail could go. "I think it will be round, so it can be adjusted easily. A square mortise would not allow any room for adjustment." And I remembered the first rule of shop class, plan ahead.
I left that to him after a while, and proceeded to work on Malinda's head. Jim gave me some perspective on how a horse's head was designed by its creator, with a jaw bone that was "D" shaped, and prominent in the carousel horses, and the face which receded a bit behind the jawbone. Respecting the line distinguishing the two gave depth and personality to the horse, not to mention realism. That's the way horses are.
As I chipped away, carving Malinda's face, a co-worker was at the table near me. I was not paying attention to his project, intent on my own efforts, realizing that the chisel was very sharp. A real face of a horse was beginning to emerge as I carved. I felt pleased with this. And then I got distracted. A twinge of pain, and blood seeped from my thumb. I had not noticed before the large box on the counter in the center of the work area  that contained a supply of band aids and other first aid equipment. Several other people who  already knew where it was, perhaps victims also of a wayward chisel, directed me to the box, and offered to help.
After I had applied the band aid, I looked around at some of the other projects. But it was the one next to me that caught my eye. That glued up twisted block that was Missy's tail had been shaped, and rounded and flattened near the end so that it really had become a serious looking tail. It was miraculous. From concept to reality, almost in a matter of hours.
In a few days, the tail will be sanded, and inserted in its proper place. Missy's tail, not as large or ornate as the horses on the carousel, but certainly distinctive in its complex simplicity.

Gluing Rusty

Last Thursday at the Berkshire Carousel I again had the opportunity to do body work with the former shop teacher, and master carver, Phil. (check out his website Custom Carving ). The master taught me a lot.

Our project was to build the blocks for the spare horse Rusty. I say spare horse because the plan is to build about forty steady steeds for the carousel;thirty-three will be the operating number, eleven rows of three, plus two chariots; and an additional seven horses that will serve as backup when others may need repair. Rusty will serve as a backup.

Phil made sure I understood the plan, and how the head, neck and tail were to be formed, the dimensions and quality of the boards to be cut. "Watch out for split boards, or knots." "If you can get a full six inches in width, it will work." And as I dutifully carried the saw from one room to another, anticipating my job, he congratulated me on one of the first rules of shop education, "You are planning ahead."

We talked about school as we worked. I confessed to him that as a guidance counselor, I always tried to work the shop teacher to accept the thirteenth or fourteenth student into a class. Often I was successful. Sometimes I was rebuffed by the argument that there was a wide range of students in the class, each of whom had access to a weapon: a variety of power tools, or  a hammer, screwdriver, saw, etc. Despite all, my relationship with the shop teacher was very good, as even then he taught me about small engines and construction techniques, a perk of working in a comprehensive high school.

A couple of weeks ago, Phil taught me about gluing and clamping, and I had to remember that as I sawed and put the parts of Rusty together. After an hour or so of clamp time, I presented Phil with four blocks of wood for him to plane. Three were fine, but the fourth was pulling apart in one corner about 1/32 of an inch. Additional clamp time did not help. I offered redo. "I think I can save it," he said.

He grabbed the glue bottle and nodded me to the back area. There he treated me to the most amazing demonstration of gluing that I had ever seen, as he put glue into the gap, and applied the nozzle of the shop vac to the side of the wood where the gap extended down;  the glue was sucked deep into the gap so that it coated the interior sides of the boards. He clamped it again; excess glue sqeezed out, and the piece was saved.

So Rusty will be on his way to the carving table this week, soon to be part of the array of backup horses. He will get his chance to shine, and with him, all the carvers and painters who are working on the Berkshire Carousel. Of course Phil and Phil, too.

Carousel- the unlikely derivation

As we gathered for lunch at the Berkshire Carousel yesterday,  Jim, one of the instructor/carvers, was asked about the derivation of carousel, and he waxed eloquent on this topic. He apparently has learned much about the every aspect of carousels, from how to build and carve the horses to the history of the carousel as we know it today.

Putting together what Jim said yesterday, and verifying spelling and facts on Wikipedia, I pass on to you what I have learned.

That soft mellow word carousel that we have come to love because we have often gone up and down and around on one derives from the Italian, a mellifluous language that can make even bad things seem appetizing. Carousel comes from the word garosello which means little battle. Knights and warriors whether Arabian, Italian, French or Spanish had to train to be accurate with their spears. A training device was invented, a huge circle with rings dangling from it, suspended somehow, was turned by slaves or work animals. The warrior on horseback would attempt to thrust his spear through the ring, as if it were the heart of the foe.

Eventually, the term carousel became linked with the musical ride at state celebrations  and weddings where knights and guards paraded their horses in formation in demonstrations of horsemanship. The Place du Carrousel in Paris was named after a choreographed horse event including colorful floats took place there in the 1600s. (  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carousel )

From about the mid- seventeenth century on the carousel became identified with the ride we love so much. It is a ride that makes us all knights, all jockeys, all guards parading in formation. Childhood dreams of riding out are accomplished. The fear of not returning is abandoned. We leave from one spot, and return. But it is not the same. We have won a victory over fear. We have gone out, conquered and returned. We have experienced the leisure of riding carefree, with a slight breeze cooling us, cheerful music surrounding us, the applause of our adoring public as we go round, and alight, a little wobbly, but safe with those who encourage and care about us.

We have been trained to win our battles with uncertainty through the carousel.

Learning Patience through the Carousel

There are many benefits from wood carving as it is done at the Berkshire Carousel, but the highest benefit that I have found is what it teaches, over and above wood carving. The word patience comes to mind.

Getting a project to go from the drawing board to reality takes an immense amount of patience. I only came into the project a few weeks ago. The project has been going on for about five years. Somebody had the idea back then, and did some things to get it going; raised some money; found space; and volunteers with the desire and time to stick to the project all these years.

As I said, I am new to the project. In a small way, I have been able to see concept move closer to a reality. Starting with a drawing of horse, transferring that onto a block of wood; the block of wood was made in the shop; a block for the head, another for the neck, and a big one for the body. The tail and legs each have their own blocks too.

The blocks are drawn upon according to the main drawing, and then a variety of workers, all volunteers, go after the parts with mallets, chisels, an sand paper. It takes days and weeks to get the horse carved. Everyone works with patience because they know the result will be wonderful when finished. there is no hurry. The process cannot be rushed." Chisel this out, leave that part," the floor manager says. "Call me when you get that much done." The floor managers treat everyone with respect, and are even tempered when dealing with the both novice and expert carvers. At the end of any given day, progress is hard to detect, but several days later, there is more form and definition in the horses. The parts are put together and made to match, exactly by persistent carving and sanding. Sometimes, a separate item, like a quiver of arrows or flowers are carved separately, and added to the body block later in the project.

After the sanding that renders a smooth surface, the horse is turned over to the painters who carefully apply five or six coats of colorful paint, paying attention to the minutest details, again with the utmost of patience.

That is what a person really learns at the carousel. The carving, sanding, painting and other skills are secondary to the patience needed to create an individual horse, and the overall project.

And then I think what if: what if  I had the opportunity to do this earlier in my career as an educator, or before I became a parent. How would that have changed me as I dealt with people in their formative years?  What if I had been part of a project like this and  learned to carve, to experience patience in action? It takes a long time to raise a child, a lot of forming and chiseling, and the work is long and strenuous. The carving experience would help us learn the patience we need as we do the task of  raising children, and probably in the task of forming ourselves.
Would we ever be finished?