The
Answer To The Question That Nobody Asks
By
John Ownby
Every knifemaker gets
asked the same five
questions at shows, often over and over by people interested in our trade.
(a) “How long have you been making knives?”
(b) “How long does it take to make a knife?”
(c) “Where did you learn how to do this?”
(d) “How many knives have you made?”
(e) “What kind of grinder do you have?”
(f) “Who makes your sheaths?”
For me, the answers are (a) since 1984; (b) depends on the knife; (c) mostly
trial and error mixed in with some good instruction along the way; (d) I lost
count a long time ago; and (e) depends upon which grinder you’re asking about;
and (f) I make my own, usually stitching them while watching The History
Channel.
But, there is one question that no one has ever asked, and it is perhaps the
most important question, because once it is asked, all the other questions
quickly become insignificant.
The question is: Why do I make
knives? Not when, or who, or how,
or how many, but “why?”
It can’t be the money, because there are far easier ways to make money.
I, like many knifemakers, have a “real” job.
I don’t do it for the money, although I’ve never complained about
making a little extra. If most
knifemakers tallied their profits and divided it by the hours they put into
their craft, the hourly rate isn’t all that great.
A few knifemakers make a good living from their craft, but the vast
majority of us don’t even try. The
reality is that there are much easier ways to make a buck.
It’s not the recognition either, although a little recognition in our own
little community of knife folks does feel good at times.
But, most of us will never have our name in lights nor will our name
become an international household word. What
fleeting fame we receive is possibly an occasional mention in a knife magazine,
or a “Hey, I know you!” from someone we meet on the street who bought one of
our knives. Nope, it’s not the recognition.
It’s also not because of any mystical mumbo-jumbo about “bringing out the
soul in a knife born in the fire of the forge or furnace.”
I’ve handled some great knives in my life, but I don’t’ think any
of them had a soul. But, most of
them did have a maker.
To me, a handmade knife is my signature in an unsigned world.
Go to your toolbox and pick up the first thing your hand touches.
If it’s like my toolbox, it’s probably a worn out screwdriver.
Look at it closely. Who made
it? No, I don’t mean the brand,
but who is the individual who made it? You
have no way of knowing, of course, and chances are neither does the
manufacturer.
More than likely it was not made by any one person, but was the product of
numerous machines controlled indirectly by numerous people.
Raw material went into the assembly line at one end, and a screwdriver
came out the other. …..just one more unsigned item in what has become an
unsigned world.
Back before the industrial revolution, real people actually made things.
Blacksmiths made all sorts of ironwork, harness makers made leather
goods, potters made pottery, silversmiths crafted their art, gunsmiths made
guns, cutlers made knives, and so on. Even
if you didn’t know the person who created the item, you knew that somewhere
and at some point in time a real person was intimately involved.
And, chances are if you looked closely, you might even find the maker’s
mark.
When I was a kid (in the late 50’s, early 60’s), there were two old men
(brothers) that had a run-down repair shop in a old rickety wooden building
across the street from my dad’s small business.
These two brothers were in their 80’s and were always tinkering in
their shop. They could make
virtually anything from a pile of junk.
The most amazing thing I ever saw them design and build was a 3-wheeled
front-wheel drive riding lawn mower. The design was ingenious, the craftsmanship flawless, and it
even had a pleasing coat of paint. It
was their creation, brought about from what most people would have considered a
pile of junk. And, if you wanted to purchase their craftsmanship, your name went
on a waiting list. It was their signature in what was rapidly becoming an
unsigned world.
The writer pouring out his thoughts on paper in the middle of the night, the
songwriter skillfully combining prose with music, the artist attempting to
capture on canvas a message that often no one else has seen, the sculptor ---
all are attempting to tell the world “I was here – and you can touch what I
have touched!”
It is often said that a piece of the artist or craftsman goes into his work, and
it is true. That piece is what I
call my “signature.” It’s a part of me, yet it becomes a part of each knife that
I craft. Whoever owns one of my
knives has a part of me.
A hundred
years from now I’ll be gone, but my signature will still be on the world.
Someone browsing in an antique store will one day pick up one of my
knives and realize that a real person made it.
Someone actually took a piece of steel, shaped it, heat treated it, added
embellishments, and thought enough of their work to place their name on it.
They will be holding my signature.
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