Light in the darkness

After Friday's massacre in Christchurch, I wanted to lose myself for a while in some wood. I started a bowl but, somewhere along the way, I began to think 'candle'.

Also, along the way, I began to see something on the news that I have never seen before - I began to see reports of masses of people standing up in public and saying, in various ways, "No!" Not just in Christchurch, nor just New Zealand, but around the world people were coming out and joining together to proclaim their "No!" Human beings don't do this they said, this is not what being human is about. To be human is to care - deeply. To be human is to love and have compassion. To be human is to weep with those who experience loss - those left grieving.

In all my years I can't recall such a worldwide outpouring of humanity - this is the light of the world. This is the light that cannot be put out, this is the light that pushes back against the darkness of hate.

It took the darkness of a massacre to reveal the light, but the light is burning; may it never flicker.

Acorn box

Turning a lidded box was the next challenge. A box is like turning two small bowls and making them fit together. Depending upon the use, the lid may be loose, snug or tight. My preferred fit is when you can lift the whole box by the lid, but a slight pull will release the lid with a satisfying 'pop'. Enter box No. 2, the "acorn box" (Box No.1 was a test piece).

Acorn box

As with all the other projects, time spent on YouTube watching the way others make a box is invaluable. It's no substitute for doing it yourself, but understanding the process before you begin saves making many simple mistakes. Anyway, what was a 100mm piece of beech firewood, has become a 80mm diameter by 170mm tall, acorn box. (The acorn used as a model is inside.)

Acorn box and acorn

I'm finding that there is something deeply satisfying about taking a piece of would-be firewood and working it into something that looks and feels good. Beech has an inner beauty that only comes to light when you start removing the bark, shaping it and putting a gloss on the new surface. It's like creating a random collision between the natural flow of the wood-grain and the deliberate shape of the object. At the end of the day, you might have something that looks good, but you know that your part has simply been to uncover what was there while trying hard not to spoil it.

Bowl No.3

Picture to the contrary, bowl No.3 is not yet finished. I turned this one while the wood was still wet, which was nice turning, but the bowl is now in the process of drying and reshaping its self. It's lost over 10% of its weight in the three days since it came off the lathe and, when it is done, it'll be out with the sandpaper again to finish it off. I think that the final shape will be more rugby ball than football, but I do like the Black Beech figuring with the dark heartwood.

Bowl No.3

What would have been Bowl No.4, died. It was going to be a small winged bowl but a catch, during hollowing, had it escape the chuck and break one of its wings in a crash landing. Perhaps a winged bowl was just a tad ambitious for No.4. or perhaps I just need to be more careful!