sculpture in wood

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Signs of thezodiac. W o od sculpture in the studio.


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J O H N R O O DSculptureIN W O O D

The University ofM innesota Press,M inneapolis


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Copyright 1950 by theU N I V E R S I T Y O FMINNESOTAAll rights reserved. Nopart of this bookm ay be reproduced in any form with-out the written permission of the pub-lisher. Permission is hereby granted toreviewers to quote brief passages in a

review to be printed in a magazineor newspaper.

PRI N TED B Y TH E N O R TH C EN TRAL PUB LI SH I N G C O M P A N Y , ST. PAU L

L O N D O N GEOFFREY CUMBERLEGE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS


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This book is forD .B .A. R.


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A ck now ledgments

M Y S I N C E R E G R A T I T U D E to those who, by discussion, suggestions, technicalassistance, have had a par t in the making of this book. A few of them are:my wife, Dorothy, who has given invaluable assistance; Paul and CarolKendall , Frank and Beatr ice Roos, Laurence and Alexandra Schmeckebier ,Theodore C . B legen, M argaretS . Harding, Jane McCar thy, Mary LawheadRood,Peter John Lupori , and many others.

For help in making photographs I am especially indebted to FrancisFuller and Darrell Tom of the Lamborn Studio, Athens, Ohio, and to thePhoto L aboratoryof the Universi tyof M innesota. O ther photographers whohave been of assistance are: Winston Weisman, J . C . M er ry , Wa r r en R ey -nolds of Photography, Inc. , Robert Nyquist , and Sarah E . Beals.

I also thank Georgette Passedoit, Edith Halpert, Betty Parsons, CurtValentin, C . L u d w i g Brum m e , Blanche Dombek, Mil ton Hebald, WarrenWheelock, Aaron Goodelman, Associated American Artists, for makingphotographs available to me.

I am most grateful to the Graduate School of the Universi ty of Minne-sota for a research grant. J . R .


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P LAT ESP L T E P G E

1 The R e t u r nof John Brown. Oak, 1945 162 The Accused. Oak, 1939 183 Eroica or Waiting Mother. Walnut, 1942 184 John B rown . O ak, 1941 225 M ountaineer's W ife. H ickory, 1940 226 C asey Jones. W alnu t, 1941 227 O ssip Zadkine at wo rk on his C hrist 238 Floating Figure, b y William Zorach. Mahogany 239 Miners,b y M ar ia Nune z del Prado. Walnut 24

10 Prou d M othe r. W alnut, 1941 2911 Jo hnny Appleseed as a Young M an. Ap ple, 1941 2912 The Sm asher. O ak, 1943 3113 Athlete's Head. Ebony, 1941 3514 AmericanYouth. P ear , 1943 3615 B oogie-Wo ogie B oys. L am inated cherry, 1942 3716 Coin' Home. Oak, 1940 3917 The studio 4318 The work bench 4319 Sh arpen ing a chisel 5020 R emoving the bu rr from sharp ened chisel 5021 Properanglefor Vtool 5322 An old V and anew one 5323 H ow to hold a gouge when sharpening 5324 R emoving bu rr from gouge with slip-stone 5425 Riffler files, bastard an d rough-toothed rasps 5726 To rso. Sn akew oo d, 1941 5827 Big Boss, detail. Walnut, 1936 5828 Drawing of the designon the wood 5929 Using the rou nd side of the rasp 5930 Aaron G oodelman's The R ope. M ahogany 60


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PL T E P GE31 Baroque Form. Apple, 1943 6132 Night Flower. Ebony, 1941 6333 The Cat. Mahogany, 1938 6334 Thebasicshapes beginning to emerge 6435 A first carving in wood using rasp only 6636 Bird. Mahogany, 1937 6637 Horse. Mahogany, 1936 6638 Salome,by C.Ludwig B r u m m e .Ebony 6739 Resignation,by Warren Wheelock. Mahogany 6740 Defiance, by Blanche Dombek. Walnut 6741 Drawing, f ront view, of SkyGazer 7042 Jacob Wrestling with theAngel. Mahogany, 1941 7143 Man with a Rake. Mahogany, 1940 7244 The drawing of SkyGazer in reverse 7445 The drawing, front, traced onblock 7446 Thedrawing, back, traced onblock 7547 Thesilhouette cut out 7548 The figure blocked in, f ront 7649 Blocking in carried a step farther 7950 Theback beginning totake shape 7951 The set of the head, roughly determined 8052 Revenge, by Ernst Barlach 8253 Expression of physical tension 8354 Relationship of forms 8455 Salammbo,byJosede C r e e f t 8556 Tumblers, byChaimGross 8557 Acrobatic Dance, by Chaim Gross 8558 Peasant Girl,by Ernst Barlach 8659 The SkyGazer completed, f ront view. Walnut, 1946 8760 Back view of the completed Sky Gazer 8761 The logthat Maxsentme 9462 Beginning to carve 94


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63 Difference of expression be twe en two sides 9564 One of the first faces I ever carved. Walnut, 1934 9665 Race .Walnut, 1943 9766 ClassicalHead 9867 The same head in terra cotta 9868 The left side of the head near com pletion 9969 A rroganc e. Ke lobra, 1941 10070 Side view of the head, same stage as P late 68 10271 The feature s taking form 10372 Fibrous qualityofwoodin thehead 10473 View of the head from below 10474 The Patriarch. Mahogany, 1937 10575 View of the head from above 10676 The left eye carved 10777 Wom an with B areFeet. Mahogany, 1940 10978 Em pty Plate,by Aaron Goodelman 10979 C losed eyes carved 11080 The Novice.Tengrung, 1946 11181 Tiger, Tiger, by William Zorach.Oak 11482 M andolin Player. M ahogany, 1937 11583 Altar piece, N ativity. M ahog any, 1937 11584 Triptych, The Queen of Heaven. Mahogany, 1937 11585 Drawingfor the Pieta on mahogany block 11786 Incising lines with the V 11787 The Pieta, by Peter J ohn L upo ri. M ahogan y, 1946 11788 Elep hant Form. W alnut, 1942 11989 C amel. W alnu t, 1947 12090 Tu mb lers. W alnut, 1947 12291 Drawingof Tumblers showing movement in space 12392 The Embrace. Mahogany, 1947 12493 Ho m a g e to Mae West. Walnut, 1947 12594 G irl with B irds,by Milton Hebald. Teak, 1947 126

PL T P G


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P L T E P G E95 The Preacher. Oak, 1939 12696 Torc h Singer. L ignum vitae, 1941 12997 M y Kin, by Aaro n G oodelman. Wild cherry 13098 N igeria, by Jose de C reeft . Snakewood 13099 The SilentPeople. Pine, 1942 131

100 L aughing M an. M ahogany, 1945 131101 John H enry as a Boy. Mahogany, 1940 132102 Cockfighter. M ahog any, 1941 132103 Acc ordion Player. M yrtle, 1945 136104 Slow D ancer. Eb ony, 1940 139105 Y ou ng G irl. Ap ple, 1941 140106 C aryatid. W alnut, 1942 141107 Y oung B runnehilde. C herry, 1942 141108 The Grandmother. Oak, 1940 143109 II Pensoroso, by O ssip Zadkine 145110 Temptation of St. Anthony. Myrtle, 1949 146111 L eaping H orses. M ahogany, 1949 148112 The H arp. M yrtle, 1949 148113 The Burning Bush. Apple, 1945 149114 R esurrec tion. Elm, 1944 150115 Adamand Eve,by Ann W olfe 154116 Visitation,by Peter L u p o r i 155117 David ,by Dorothea Greenbaum 156118 Flying Figure,by G w enLux 157119 W oman with Hen 158120 Wom an with Bowl, by Evelyn R aymon d 158121 Figure of C hild, by William Zorac h 159122 C hoir Singer by firep lace 160123 C hoir Singeron halltable 161124 C hoir Singeronbedside table 161125 C hoir Singerin bookcase 162126 C hoir Singerin Italian cabinet 163


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P L T E P GE127 Class of '47.Oak, 1947 165128 Creche. Linden, 1947 166129 Our LadyofGrace. Linden, 1949 169130 St. Joseph. Linden, 1949 170131 Mother Cabrini,byAlonzoHauser 170132 Fish. Walnut, 1947 171133 Svenand Helga. Birch, 1948 172


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Sculpture inWood


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ArtISWHATYOUM A KE ITP R O B A B L Y there is no major branch of human activity more clustered roundwith barnacles of misunderstanding than the work of artists. People say,"Ilike art,but Idon'tunderstand it."Theintimationisthat to enjoy athingonemust know allabout th e materials that gointo its making, how thosematerials are put together, and even to some extent something about thepersonal life of the maker This point of view should be extremely flatter-ing to the artist since itseemsto imply avery deep intereston the partofpeople a n interest which I honestly think they have, even though theymay not be aware of it. One never hears anyone say,"I like cake, but Idon't understand it." People eatcake, usually enjoy it without knowingoreven thinking what ingredients or thought went into it s making. Perhapsth e analogy of a cake and awork of art may seem rather far-fetched, butis it?Each is the product ofcreative thought working with materials Themaking of acake seems asimple activity. This isbecause everyone either

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hasmade cakesorknowshow andwhere theyaremade,in kitchens similarto hisown. On the other hand, th e making of a work of art seems quiteremote andmysterious.I believe this attitude comes largely from the factthat th e average person has not seen awork of art made. If the makingofartwere done in everyone's house, I amconvinced wewould not hear sooften "Ilike art,but Idon't understand it."This attitude is one of the major reasons for writing this book. I shouldlike totake each one of youbehind th e scenes, not only th e actual physicalsceneofmaterialsandstudio,but also into that seemingly mysterious place,the mindof the so-called creative artist. I believe it ispossible to do this.If my attempt is even partially successful, it is worth the effort. It is myhope that through this book at least a few of you will become sufficientlyinterested to tryyour hand at the makingofart, ifonlyas ahobby just forthe fun of it; but even more, Ihope that through these pages many of youwill gain alittleof that understanding and appreciation which will enableyou to enjoy artmuch more fully.

As intimated above, people without realizing it often express their be-lief that th e making of art is of greater importance an d value to humancivilization than the making offood Perhaps they are right. In any case,manybooks have been written on the subject of art but unfortunatelyt oooften theyarecouched in alanguage thatisintelligibleonly to the expert.W hy should not a book on art be as easy to understand as a cook bookwhichcan beunderstood byanyone? Ibelieve it ispossible to write suchan art book and I am going to attempt to do it simply and clearly. In theend you, the reader, must be the judge of my success or failure.

What is th e valueofart?A rt has no intrinsic money value unless th e object isexecuted in gold

or precious stones.The canvasand paint in apicture areworth little; thestone in apiece ofsculpture mightb eworth alittle more. Togive ahomelyillustration,youcan't weigh art on scales, like butter, and sellit across thecounter. Then perhaps you will say, if art has nomaterial value it has novalue at all. But is this true? Let us ask other questions:what is the value of

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religion?What is the value of faith, of love, ofunderstanding? I am sureyouwill notanswer that these have novalue. Then if you understand thatthesehavevalue beyond dollars,you arewellon the way to understandingthevalue ofart.

Art, like religion, faith, love, understanding, is a necessity for the hu-m anbeing; without thesewewould quickly destroy ourselves.The neces-sity to create which is inherent in sculptors, painters, writers, musicians,architects, is and always has been one of civilization's greatest assets. Thiscreative urge isrecognized far too rarely and when recognized, it is oftenin anegative rather than in apositive way.

And the function of art: what is it?A rt is not functional as adishpan is; it is not anecessity as we conceive

the automobile to be. The dishpan and the automobile are functional onamaterial level.Art isfunctional on aspiritual level. On the material sidewe are animals; we must have transportation, houses over our heads,enough food to eat, and so on. On the spiritual level we must be humanbeings. And forsome strange reason it isnecessary to iterate an d reiteratethat w earehuman beings and toprove itagain and again. Each generationhas to prove it t h e proof of former generations will not do the trick forsubsequent ones. This is a nuisance to a civilization that believes asoursdoes in "progress." Thereis no "progress"inreligion, in love, in art; thereis only reiteration, dedication. The cave man making his drawings andcarvings on the walls of hiscave was almost asadvanced in art as we are.Wehave learned afew technical tricks: perspective, color relations, and soon. But we are doing the same thing that the cave man felt he must do,andthatwas tocreate inorder toshowthathepossessedaspiritualqualitywhich the animals about him did not have.To satisfy his spiritual hunger,the cave man created beauty; he wished to have a kind of immortality,hence he made his marks on the walls of his home, thinking that thesewould remain whenhe wasgone.Themakingofthese imageswasreligiousinnature. The making ofimages today isequally religious innature, for itsatisfies a spiritual craving that is in us. AsEric Gill said in one of his es-says,Godcreated the world and allthat is in it, but He did not complete

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the job: He gave man the capacity to carry on where He left off ; thus whenman creates,he becomes as it were, extensions ofGod's fingers. Althoughmany of us are not, in an orthodox way, as religious as Eric Gill, his ex-planation of the necessity for creation appeals to me as being a simple anda very good one.

The valueof art to us should be that it is the greatest key we have tothe understanding of one another. And it is through understanding othersthat we, as human beings, can perilously skirt the chasms of brutality, war,nihilism. Art is the great international language; it knows no barriers ofrace, religion, country. And it is through man's creations in the arts thatwebest arrive at an understanding of the civilizations of all ages.

What does art make us understand?It makes us understand that we human beings are prone to err, that

we are not and cannot be perfect ; it makesus understand that the per fec-tion of the material world is not for us. The man-made thing, art, can neverbe perfect ; the machine-made thing can be w it h all the dullness thatgoes with inhuman perfection.

B ut perhaps this is too abstract; let us get down to instances. A wash-woman drawn by Daumier gives us in pictorial terms an understanding ofth e woman's life; we feel her tiredness, th e endless round of drab activity.Without a word of explanation we understand that probably she has manychildren at home to be fed, that perhaps she has a drunken husband whowill not provide for the family; hence she must take in washing. We under-standher problems at leastallthatour imagination will allow us to com-prehend. Thus, you see, we, as observers, become a part of the creation ofthe artist, for without our understanding his creation is not complete.

Paintings such as the prostitutes of Toulouse-Lautrec make us under-stand the depths of degradation to which the human animal can descend.And, at the same time that we look at them with fascinated distaste, theymake us realize th e imperfection that is almost th e essence of humani ty .B ut always, always, w e must look with our imaginations: w e must enterinto and become a part of the creation of the artist . He has done his work,but thatworkisonlyasgood as wewithourcooperation will allow it to be.


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B y this I mean that the artist does not work in a vacuum, snatching hisideas from some mysterious void. He is not a magician though sometimeshiswork seems sowonderful that he would appear so. The artist is a manwith heightened perception, able to put into material form the dreams,aspirations,feelings that are common to all of us. But because he is espe-cially aware of gradations in sensual perception and is able to translatethem into forms orwords we all can see and hear, we are apt to feel thathe is setapart, thathe is not as weare.Consequentlywe are almost afraidto goalong with him in his discovery an d presentation of new worlds ofperception and thought. Most of us, unfortunately, ar e like ostriches: weprefer toignore things which frighten us orwhich we find difficult tounder-stand.But we are notostrichesandshouldnot actlike them.We arehumanbeingswith minds an dperceptions that must beused ifthey, like tools, areto bekept sharp and bright.

The parable of the talents is very applicable. If we refuse to use ourminds, to develop our senses and perceptions, they will gradually atrophyand eventually disappear A nd this applies distinctly to understanding awork ofart. We are not talking about th e insipid calendar picture. Anyonecan take that in at a glance it does not require study. As a result onesoon tires of it. However, the real work of art, like the Toulouse-Lautrecpainting, cannot be understood at a glance, often not in many glances Itrequires concentration andthought aswellassensual perception tocompre-hend fully what theartist wished toconvey. He h asdone hiswork, has putitbefore us, but until w e have seen not only with our eyes b u t with ourminds, until w e have tried to absorb th e meaning of the artist and suc-ceeded at least to acertain extent, the artist feels that the functionof hiswork has not been fulfilled. And as for us, the observers, th e more aworkof art demands inthought and perception, probably th e greater that workis;certainly th emore weunderstand it, the more w ewill enjoy it .Anovel such as W a r a nd Peacehasmany avenues ofunderstanding. Itis asup-to-date now aswhen it waswritten, even though it was written inth e time of emperors and political systems which arepractically nonexist-ent today. Every generation needs its W ar an d Peace.Perhaps ifprevious

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generations had produced more such novels the words war and peacewould be archaic, or at least not so constantly in use.

Take awork such as Beethoven's SixthSymphony. What do we bringto theperformance other than the sensual ability tohaveour ears pleased?Here again is auniverse. It is not auniverse ofwords, but one of sound.Who canlisten to it, or to thedozensof itssymphonic counterparts, withoutaquickening of the whole human being? Weenter intoa newworld;oursensesareheightened,webreathe more deeply, we areproud tobelong toth esame human race as the man who created this. Again, th e music is asgreatas our imaginations will let it be.

Knowledge and understanding of older civilizations are best given usthrough their arts.Forinstance, think howmuchw elearn from th eexcava-tions ofPompeii an d Herculaneum of those tw o overlapping cultures, th eGreek and the Roman.The very walls and columns, the architecture, ex-plain to us their way of living: from th e wall paintings we learn of theirfestivals,daily activities, customs, mores. Their gods even ar ebrought closeto us as we see them depicted in sculpture, sothat Zeus an d Aphrodite an dApolloandDiana mean moreto usthanmere words.And we can seeherethe difference between these two cultures t he Grecian simplicity andgentility which theRomans could never quite attain, crushingout the lyricessence as they tried to layhandson it. In short, we learn the real historyof these people t he ir spiritual history, beyond th e factual statement ofdates and happenings through their art.

N ow it happens that although I do some painting, I am first of all asculptor. Sonaturally in this bookI amconcerned with sculpture, and spe-cificallywith sculpture inthat most simple of allmaterials, wood. I believesculpture is the artwhich people respond tomost naturallythey can takeholdof it; they can enjoyitwith the sense oftouch aswell as the senseofsight an d they can enjoy it from al l sides.

I admit that at this particular time sculpture seems to occupy secondplace in the art world. How often in art journals it is referred to as the"stepchild" of art B ut sculpture has not always taken second place. In

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those periods generally recognized as the "greatest" in the production ofart, sculpture mightbecalled thebackbone. Certainlyit was the major art.This w as true of the Egyptians. Their architecture, the pyramids and thetemples, was itself a form of sculpture, an d designed to house sculpture.The Greeks: their temples an dbuildings were made ofhand-hewn, that issculptured, stone. Outside they were often adorned with sculpture andm u ch was placed within. Fortunately many of these noble figures remainfor ustoday and telltheir storyo f theGrecian love ofbeauty and thewor-ship of their gods. The Gothic cathedrals, th e glory of medieval Europe,werebuilt ofcarved stones fittedtogether, makingagiganticpiece ofsculp-ture which in turn was embellished still fur ther b y sculptured figures. Andin th e Renaissance even th e painters thought sculpturally. Think of thegreat sculpturalfigureswhich Michelangelo painted in the Sistine Chapel,paintings which not only influenced th e artists of his day but have beenstudied ever since.

Let us look in another direction. What would we know of the Mayan,th e Aztec, th e Inca, th e Tolteccivilizations if sculpture had not been th echief art of those peoples? Most of their written records have been de-stroyed. Their history remains for us in their sculpture. This is almost astrue of the early history of China, India, and the Malay peninsula. Hereagain wehave th e sculpture of their gods gazing at us down through th ecenturies, telling in nouncertain terms of the serenity of these people an dtheir contemplative nature.

N ow let us look at our own time. Why is art sospineless, solacking invirility, soshowing-at-the-edges of decadence an d neuroticism? I can al-mosthear th egreat sculptors of thepast crying down th e ages, "Where ar eyour sculptors?"

O u r musicians turn their basically emotional and romantic art into adull cerebral business which is mathematics made audible, scientific andinhuman. Writers play with words, forgetting that th e function ofwritingis to communicate ideas simply and clearly. Painters quarrel about non-objectivity and abstraction, regionalism, naturalism, and fly off into fan-tasywhich to o often has no substance other than perhaps something called

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"paint q u a li ty " a n d heaven knows a painting must certainly have that,b utshould that be an end in itself?Sculptors arebusy hunting forboulderswhich they canplace on stands after th e minimum of cutting, or they tr yto mystify us by making weird constructions of stone or wood or metalwhich often move into accidental designs when pushed, or which can betaken apart and reassembled to make "interesting" designs. It is art, ofcourse, and it is allright as far as it goes. But why are most of our artistsafraid tospeak outclearly sothat even th esimplest person canunderstand?People with some knowledge ofart, when faced by apainting or apieceofsculpture that is completely incomprehensible except as a design, are aptto murmur, "How interesting " They do not like to say flatly, "That isnothing," for in the past critics to o often have been wrong in their judg-ments. But the general public is frankly bewildered an d honestly says so

A great deal of the fault for this bewilderment can be traced to theartists themselves. O ne reason for the present confusion is that most ofour young artists will go to any extreme to escape being considered pro-vincial,regional, orworst of all "academic." They do not realize that theirconcept of academic (that is, the dull an d pedantic realism of the nine-teenth century) hasbeen dead for along time. Neither dothey realize thatthey are in the center of another kind of academism just as stultifying asthe thing they think of as"academic." The present academism isquite asdogmatic as theold, an dperhaps lays more of adead hand on the studentfo r th every reason that it seems to give free rein. T he student isencour-aged toexperiment with tools andmaterials, to follow his own imagination,and is not forced to copy painfully every curve an d shadow of a vase orplaster cast and thus learn the basic principles, from which eventually hem ay soundly develop his own ideas an d style.

As for the fear ofprovincialism or "regionalism," which is common tomost of ourartists, young an d old, an d particularly ourAmerican artistswhy be afraid ofthat?Let us behonest about this.To escape being called"regional"or"national" orwhatever the termmay be,American artists willaccept any formula lately imported from elsewhere, b ut usually fromEurope, overlooking thefactthattheformulasthey accept wereintheirbe-

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ginning quite as"regional" asones they might develop forthemselves Forwhat artists could be more "regional" than El Greco, Cezanne, Rouault,Picasso,Matisse, Beckmann were intheir day or arenow?We dotalk aboutwhat wecall th e "international style," but that styleth e same as the stylefor women's clothes ismostly created in Paris. Also let us remember thateven shouldaforeign stylebe adopted, onedoesnotneed totake over thesubject matter on which that style was firstused.

What w e need to remember most is that great art must come from aplace, and that place iswhere the artist lives.The artist must look insidehimself, hemust look at his ownbackground, his own surroundings. If hefinds nothing there of enough interest to make him want to cry out hismessage, he will never make much of an impact on the world. He is notgoing to find hismaterial b y searching th e world for things unusual anddifferent and alien to him. H e m a ymake a bizarre littleplace forhimselfbut thatplace in the world of art iscomparable to those bizarre "Turkishcorners" inpretentious housesof the nineties

Again referr ing to the so-called international style: isn't it enough thatart is now and alwayshasbeen th e only international language?Must weal lspeak with th e same inflection; that is, use the same style, in order thatwe may be understood? Obviously not. We understand the peoples ofEgypt, China, Peru, Mexico, Greece, medieval France, because of theirsculpture, and that sculpture speaks the same language with varying ac-cents but all of them we can understand fairly easily, even though theirvoicesmay be as different as,say, French and the grunt of the cave man

Inconclusion, whatI amattemptingto say is this: art is alanguage thatcanbeunderstoodbyanyone in any time. In the United States, up to thepresent time,we have been rather apologetic about our art. We have ac-cepted th e dictum of Europe that there is little in the way of art in thiscountry worthyofattention.Let us behonest about this. There isreallynoreason for us tohang our heads in the world ofart. O fcourse in this bookI am pleading aspecial case for sculpture, particularly for ournative sculp-ture.Ibelievethatwe canearn great respectforAmerican sculpture, espe-

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cially fo r sculpture in that most native of materials, wood. W e have greatforests of beautiful woods. We have a culture and a subject matter mosteminently suited to wood. Let us look into ourselves, into our traditions,our customs, our lives, our localities; then let us take the tools and thematerial with which we are sofamiliar and go to workand not worry to omuch that we may be out of step with what appears to be the main cur-rent, or that what we are doing may not seem to have great importance.That in time will take care of itself. If we work honestly and sincerely, itmaywell be that we can create an era ofgreat sculpture which throughthe ages will portray the lives, the aspirations, and the spirit of this countryin th e twentieth century.

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WoodASM ATER IALFO R TH ESCULPTORT H E R E is not asmuch difference in the materials, stone and wood, as youmight expect. Stone requires less immediate skillbut more patience; woodisquick, but youhave to be on the jobevery minute else itwill get out ofhand. There are few long, dull periods when you merely spend time re-moving excess material. Wood ismore direct than stone and one has lesstime tomake decisions.

Aside from this, wood is the material that most of usunderstand in our"bones," for we have lived more often than not in wooden houses, sat onwooden furni ture; we have known th e feel of wood under our hands aslong as we have known anything. Therefore for us it is not asalien a ma-terial as stone. This feeling, I am sure, iscommon to most Americans, ex-cept perhaps for the coming generation who are growing up used tomachine-worked metal and plastics. I, for one, do not welcome the day

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when weride incars, live inhouses,eat food,wear clothesallmade fromsynthetic materials.

N ot long ago Ispent some time with one of our foremost medical men,and wewere talking about the world ingeneral. He gavehis opinion thatw ehad reached the peak in ourmechanical civilization, pointing out thatif wewent much fur ther ourcivilization would destroy itself with its ownmachinery. N ot only th e machinery of obvious destructionguns, air-planes, tanks, and so on b ut also th e machinery that might gounder th egeneral heading ofgadgets. W ewere having dinner in anordinary restau-rant of the sort to be found in any small town. H e called m y attention tothedozensofmechanical contrivancesinthatoneroom.There were orangesqueezers, milkshake machines, electric toasters, waffle irons, coffee-makingmachines; all the numberless contrivances for lighting and manipulatingadvertisements, the inevitable radio, and a complicated arrangement formakingmusicbyputting acoinin a box onyour tableandpressing abut-to nat the moment it was reducing Chopin to hogwash; there were auto-matic cigarette and match vendors, pin-ball machines in which lightsflashed an dbells rang, and so on and so on. Theplace was amaze ofcontri-vances for assaulting th e ears and eyes of the customer, and a maze ofmachinery for preparing food to insult th e sense of taste an d smell. Thedoctor said that anybody with common sense knew that we could not beso constantly surrounded by these sensual agitators without having someharm done to ournerves, or at least without having our senses so dulledthat only the loudest noises, the rawest colors, the sharpest tastes wouldcatchour attention.

We doneed to getcloserto the actual substances, themore subtle sen-sualperceptions, that gointo th e makingof us,body an d soul. O ur writers,painters, sculptors, musicians, architects, dancers have, in their severalways,been saying thisformany years.W eneed tohandle th e juices, meats,vegetables thatgoinsideus; weneed tolisten tomusicat thesource, madeby men in thesame room withus; weneed to touch, and to be repelled ordrawn toward trees an d rocks an d earth, if we expect to keep ourselvessoundandhealthyinmindandbody.

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AsayoungsterIcarved with aknifea fewsmall heads out ofvery toughyellow pine. This was not theusual sort ofwhittling, it was small sculpturein the round.Yellowpine is not the most tractable ofwoods and my knifewas not toosharp, consequently I remember this experience as one of cutfingers A few years later, left alone in a woodworking shop at LangleyField while some aviator friends made a flight, I found a small piece ofpoplar andsome chisels.Ipassed the time carvingaheadout of the poplarand got a great deal ofsatisfactionfrom it. But it was not until the fallof1933, after a summerin Europe, that I really began carving in a seriousway.During m ystay inFrance I had seen examples of a local carver's art.For the most part they were rather insipid imitations of the carving doneat Ober a m m er g a uwhich carving seems to me somewhat sentimental andlackinginvirility.Iknew that Icould dobetterbywhich I mean that Ifelt I could carve figures with more vitality, figures better suited to thematerial.Thelocal carver obviously knewhis craft. I realized I might nothave asmuch technical facility, but I felt it was unfortunatethat he hadnothing to saywith hiswonderful technical ability.

When Iarrived home,I looked about for toolsand aplace towork. Inth e basement of ourhome, which had belonged to mywife's grandfather,I found a small workbench equipped with awooden vise, and in the toolrack were a few wood rasps, files, and a chisel or two j u st as the oldgentleman had leftthem, except that no wthey were covered with the dustand debris of neglect. There were carpenter's tools, an d there was even amallet. In a corner of the basement, among other pieces ofwood, was asmallsquare block ofoak. Being more than half Celt, Imust admit tomorethan a half belief in signs and omens Certainly here was a perfect set-upfo r an amateur carver.

Oak is not one- of the easier woods for a beginner. However, in my ig-norance, I began work on the block. The rather simplified head that Iwanted tomakewas quite clear in mymind and so I completed the headquickly,though crudelyto be sure. It was acaseofmind over matter, andvery stubborn matter at that

Thebeginning,for me, wasthat simple. Iaddeda few more carpenter's15


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Plate 1. The R e t u r n of John Brown.Oak, 1945. 39 inches.

tools to my meager equipment,but I had my firstone-man exhi-bition before I learned where togo forprofessional carver's tools.Tothisday I findthat the simplecarpenter's chisels and gouges inmy kit are the tools most oftenused.

But to getback towood as amaterial for the sculptor: almostthe first question people ask me

is,"Howdo youkeep it fromcracking?"Theansweris, Idon't.The naturaltendency ofwood in the log, when itdries, is tocrack. This isobvious, forwooddries from the outside in t he outer part dries, contracts, and natu-rallysplits. This continues until thewoodis dry throughto the core. Thenquite often th e shrinkage of the inside draws th e outside layers togetherand the crack isclosed.

The tendency ofwood to check orcrack is,frankly,afault of the ma-terial.However, if the sculpture isproperly designed, th e cracks may evenenhance the appearance of the piece Plate 1, The Return ofJohn Brown,for instance.After all, cracksare the natureof the material and alsoa partof itsfascination. Wood isalive It hasspring,"give," and solong as itdoesnot rot away into dust, it has avitality of its own: constantly contractingand expanding with varying moisture,heat, dryness, cold.

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"Yes, that'svery interesting," prospective purchasers say, "but what ifit just falls apart?"

Have you ever seen a piece of wood that fell into pieces of itself? Ihaven't. O f course if rot sets in, that is something different. A way to re-assure yourself is to go to the nearest museum and look at the sculptureinwood that w asmade in the Middle Ages and compare itwith th e stonefrom the same period. Y ouwill find the wood is in just asgood a state ofpreservation as the stone. Ears, noses, fingers, toes have very often beenbroken off the latter, whereas the wood is in pretty good condition unlessrot has attacked it or it has been for too long exposed to the elements.Some museums have wood sculpture made by the Egyptians long beforethe time ofChrist.

B uteven if the material could not possibly hold together for more thanathousand years, isn't that long enough? Today anywork of art worthyofpreservation can be preserved, for it can be reproduced, photographed,and the record kept. Personally I cannot understand the desire on the partof artists that their work last forever: it presupposes an importance whichmost often is not there. N oartist would deliberately choose materials thatwill not survive and if he is reasonably careful, his work will last longenough for it tohave its influence and iftime proves it to be worthy,youmay be surea waywill be found topreserve it.

If apiece ofwood onwhich you wish towork has cracks that distressyou, there are, in the chapter on Finishing, directions for filling them. Inth emain, however,Iwould take wood as it is i ts faults with it svirtues.

What for the sculptor are the special advantages of wood over othermaterials? The most obvious is that wood is available in any part of thecountry. A ny lumber company has a few pieces ofwood ofproper thick-ness, an d almost anywood can be used for sculpture. Or, you canalwaysfind pieces of firewood. Some of my best sculpture has been made fromlengths ofwood found on thewoodpile. TheAccused, Plate 2, was carvedfrom apieceof oak intended for the fireplace. In fact, this is one of the bestsourcesof supply that I know Living as I did when I began carving, in asmall Ohio town,Icalledafarmerandaskedhim tobringme aloadof fire-

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Plate 2. The Accused. Oak, 1939.24/2 inches.

Plate 3. Eroica or Waiting Mother.Walnut, 1942. 6 feet.


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wood. Invariably there were lengths of cherry or oak or walnut in thatload. Later I asked if he had any logs of these woods and when he saidyes, I askedhim to deliver the wood in the log. I got beautiful woods forthe cost of firewood and the farmer was quite happy about it for he didnot have to go to the trouble ofcu tt ing the log into suitable lengths for thefireplace Eroica or Waiting Mother , Plate 3, was made from a walnut lo gobtained in this way.

There are many other advantages to wood. It is easy to handle, and thisease of handling is really a great advantage to the sculptor espec iallyafter he has wrestled with stones, which are he avy ev en in small massesWood is easy to carve; that is, it cuts easily, though as I have pointed outbefore, this ease of cutt ing forces one to keep his wits about him.

Another advantage is that sculpture in wood fits most readily in thehome.There is a wide range of colors and textures. The colors are pleasing:w arm ,vibrant, alive, and the surface of the m aterial is pleasant to the touch.Perhaps it would be well to say here that wood sculpture should behandled. Often when my work is exhibited I see signs saying, "Do nottouch, please." This is too bad. Half of the pleasure of owning sculpture isth e tactile pleasure derived from passing one's hands over it. And it isgoodfo r the sculpture, for there is no patina com parable tothat obtained by thetouch of the human hand. Think of the beauty of the wood in old plowhandles, th e arms of chairs, table tops, which have known th e touch ofh u m a n hands for years and sometimes generations

A nd yet another advantage: one reason sculpture is so rarely exhibitedis that it isdifficult to ship. Stone and bronze are quite heavy. They have tob e carefully crated, and if you have ever seen a half-dozen men heavingaway at a ton or so of carving, you realize why m u s eu m s and galleries areso reluctant to exhibit sculpture. B ut consider wood: it islight, if reasonablywell packed it does not mar, if properly designed there is no part that willeasily break off .A large exhibition of wood sculpture might no t weigh asm u chas a single workin stoneorbronze For the past several years I havehad an exhibitionof fifteen pieces of sculpture, circulated by the AmericanAssociation of University Women, which is packed in one large wooden

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crate. The whole thing weighs about 250pounds. The express chargeforshortdistances between points ofexhibition isless than te n dollars. Hencewithvery little expensemysculpturehasbeen shownincommunities whichnever before had seen original sculpture: thus in these towns for acoupleof weeks, high school students interested in art have had the opportunityto handle andstudy original work.I liketo think that whenmy sculpturesare being shown they are working, functioning; that people are derivingpleasure,or at anyrate interest, from seeing them. Inotherwords, they arefulfilling th e function for which they were brought into being. You caneasily seethatI believe worksof art should be exhibited asmuchaspossi-ble. This fact alone, the greater ease with which wood sculpture can becirculated, is enough reason for carving in that material.

B ut for me there is another reason, a quite personal one, one which Ifeelmight very wellb econsidered b ymore artistsinAmerica.For too longmost of oursculptors have been concerned with every subject matter underthe sun except their own. If our writers used ancient Greeks, or the my-thology ofother lands, for their main subject matter, what would we thinkofthem?Andyet, oursculptorsin thepast, an d often in the present, do justthis thing. Iwill not saythat atorso is thesole property ofGreece, for theoriginalidea of torsos came from accidents which happened to sculpture.Heaven knows thereare torsos and to spare inpractically every groupex-hibition ofsculpture The torsois abeautiful thing, naturally every sculptorwants to have a try at it, but as one great contemporary sculptor said tom e,"Everybody makes torsos." It does take more ability,bothphysical andmental, to create a full figure with head, arms, legs, properly designed inth e material sothat nopart will break off, than it does to create merely acentral trunk.Atorso alone can be aquite beaut i ful thing: sensual, exciting.B ut it cannot say much to our minds: it cannot give us much understand-ing,and this understanding,as I tried to explain in the preceding chapter,is one ofart's great possibilities.

B utto return to my personal reason for working in wood: I feel that I,as an American, with my roots here, with my knowledge of Americanpeople, should have somethingto sayabout these people I know.It is not

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Plate 4. John Brown. Oak, 1941. 19 inches.

Plate 5.Mountaineer's Wife. Hicko1940. 19inch

Plate 6. Casey Jones. Walnut,1941. 19Kinches.


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Plate 7. Ossip Zadkine atwork on hisChrist.

Plate 8. Floating Figure, by Wil l iam Zorach. Mahogan


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Plate 9. Miners, b y Mar ia Nun ez del Prado.Walnut.

For Casey Jones (Pla te 6 )walnut was the right wood, as I wanted the darkcolor which somehow carries the implication of tragedy and gives to thehead asomber, almost Indian quality.

Can you imagine any of these sculptures executed in any other material?I believe wood is the material these people knew best and loved and usedmost.

N ow let us look at some sculpture in wood by other sculptors and seehowwell they have adapted the materialtotheir subject matter.

Plate 7 shows Ossip Zadkine at work on his large Christ, treelike inform and as you cansee, carved from atree. I wasamused when this photo-graph came to me, because Zadkine said to me once, "Ebony is the onlywoodsuitedtosculpture."The figure ofChristisprobably elm orsome suchwoodsurely more appropriate to the figure than ebony

Theoriginal shape of the piece ofwood mayhave suggested th e Float-24


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ing Figure, Plate8, toWilliam Zorach,but can you imagine this work beingso effective in another, heavier material? Wood floats: stone and metaldo not.

Miners,Plate9, is by Mar ia Nunezdel Prado of Bolivia. She came to anexhibition of mine some te n years ago. She had just arrived in this countryon an A A U W fellowship for study and work. M y exhibition that year wasmadeup mostlyo fwhat I callmy Folk Music seriesofwhich John Brown,Casey Jones, Johnny Appleseed, and Waiting Mother ar e examples. Missdel Prado, a dark, handsome girl , came into the gallery and went from onepiece of sculpture to the other, pausing much longer than the usual visitorto examine each figure. Someone introduced me to her and she turned herdark shining eyes to search m y face, saying "You are the artist." I nodded.Her eyes were perhaps more eloquent than her words, for she spoke atthat time in broken English, when she said, "This is what I want to do formy country, The Indians, thepeopleIwant tohelp them."Atthat timeI had seen noneof herw ork. Since then I have seen perhaps a dozen piecesof which "Miners" is an excellent example. Miss del Prado at that timeworked mostly in wood. Noticehow eloquently she has used the material;how the design suggests a cross. Wood is the material from which the crossof Christ was made. Hence, in a subtle way, the sculptor through her choiceof materialhas given added meaning to the subject portrayed.

N ow every civilization has its own mythology, so intertwined in the cul-turalb ackgroundthat one is scarcely aware of it . I use the word mythologyin a different sense than that of a mere collection of fables; in the senseofsymbolical significance or meaning. Thus the cowboy in his high-heeledboots and chaps as he stands against a rail fence rolling a cigarette; twowom en gossiping over a back fence; the mourner'sbench at a country campmeeting; the soda jerker seenin our Main Street drugstores,and even MainStreet itself All these and hundreds of cou nterparts m ake up wh at we thinkof as "typically American." They have become a par t of our mythology, inthe sense that they have symbolical significance, and it is that mythologyso essentially ours which I feel provides an unusually rich cultural back-

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ground for our artists. W e Americans of th e United States are an earthypeople in spiteof the fact that we are probably technologically the mostadvanced in the world. O ur humor, our storieswhether th e Pullman carvarietyor the rather innocent backwoods taleare earthy; underneath theexterior of anation which seems to be made up oftraveling salesmen, doc-ile andstereotyped, is anation ofpeople who are anythingbut docile andstereotyped For we are ayoung people, full ofsalt an d gusto; w edare th eimpossible because w e don't know to o much w e are not vitiated withcynicism;we may not have the graces of the European salon, but we dohavetheenergyand theknow-howof thekitchen, thelaboratory, the farm,thefactory.

Allthism aysound like th everiest jingoism, but for theartist, whointer-prets best what heknows best, thereis not the same danger inexalting theplace and time inwhich he livesas there might be should a politician, inhis field, do the same thing. The artist creates not just for his immediatetimeandcontemporaries, but for allpeopleof alltime. Inotherwords, theartist isdealing with universal meaningsand truths, whereas the politicianismore often than not merely striving for immediate power, andmisrepre-sentation, forhim, isoften more valuable than th e truth.

What Ihave been tryingto say in these past fewparagraphsisthat wein this country areblessed with an unusually rich background and woodseemsto me thematerial peculiarly suited to itsportrayal.

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IdeasAN D SUBJECT MATTERO N E O F TH Equestions most often asked me is, "Where do you get yourideas?"Well, there is no storage bin of ideas to which I may go and makeaselection.A ttimes ideas comefrom everywhereand anywhere the shapeof a tree, a glance from a fellow bus passenger, the slouch of a figure, amusicalphrase, apicturein the newspaper, a character in a book: these arethe sparks that often light the tinder. Then there are other times, thoseterrifying and dull periods known to all creative workers, when nothingcomes.

Herearesome pictures.Ineach caseIwill tellyouwhereI got the ideafo r th esculpture. Praying Woman, shown above, had been in mymind forsome time; that is, I had the general idea of portraying a woman underterrificstrain, numbed by the shockofgreat tragedy, such as the loss of anonlyson in the war. I knewthat the facemust be calm, as if the emotionalstorm had passed, and yet I wanted a certain agonized tension in the sculp-ture, the greater agony that comes later, after tears have passed. One dayin glancing through some old magazines I came across a picture of Ruth

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Draper with a shawl over her head. There was the form that I wanted mypraying woman totake.I set to work immediately on a huge block of oakthe figure isover life-size with the design asclear ascrystal in my mind.The facewas to be filled with a certain resignation, but the hands were tobegripped sotightly together that the tendons would stand out. It is thisplay between handsand face,and thedesign which leads the eye from oneto the other, that give the figure whatever power it has to move you.

Anentirely different thingis theProud Mother,Plate10. I waswalkingdownthe streetand saw twowomen standing together in adoorway talk-ing. One of them held a baby in her arms; the other was saying in thatspecialsortoftonereserved forbabies, "My,but he's asturdy littleman "The mother, her face full ofpride, looked down at him as if she was in fullagreement with th e praise. This chance meeting happened during one ofthosedullperiodsofwhichIspoke.Ihurried homeand set towork.

Johnny Appleseed as a YoungMan, Plate 11, is anaturalthat is, it is anatural subject for asculptor inwood, and more particularly apple wood.Strangely enough, though I wasdoing the Folk Music series at the time,I had not thought of carving him. I had done Paul Bunyanand John Henry,legendary characters from other parts of the country, whereas JohnnyAppleseed belonged mostlyto that partofOhio inwhichI wasthen livingandwhere I had lived most of my life Charles Allen Smartwasvisiting inthe studio one day and, glancing up at the Paul Bunyan mural which filledone entire end of the room, said quietly, "I'll never quite forgive you foryour interest inPaul Bunyan until you have done something with JohnnyAppleseed. In fact,knowing you, I can't understand why this great interestinPaul Bunyan.Afterall he is asymbol, moreo rless,of thewanton destruc-tionof our forests, whereas Johnny Appleseed planted trees."Allen had astory on Johnny Appleseed that was published about that time in theAtlantic Monthly; then another writer friend, Harlan Hatcher, devoted achapterof his book The Buckeye Country to Johnny.

I was intensely interested in the idea and yet I could not "see" in mymind how I should carve him. The usual word picture of him, a man halfcrazed, wearingan oldburlapsack,asaucepan on hisheadfor ahat, did

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Plate 10. Proud Mother. Walnut,1941. 18 inches.

Plate 11. Johnny Appleseed as aYoung Man.Apple, 1941. 31 inches.


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no tstrikeme asright. And the ideaof hisbeing asort ofmidwestern versionof St. Francis of Assisi, preaching to the Indians, the birds, doing goodworks,also struck me asbeing to opat, to oeasy. A nd then achance remarkset meoff.Severalpeoplewerein thestudioand Imentioned Johnny Apple-seed. Perhaps it was mygood friend Paul Kendall, or his wife Carol I donot remember,but surely they were present since they have set megoingon many projects. Paul said, "We always read about him as a man in hisprime,or as an oldman. Iwonder what he waslike when he wasyoung?"That was it Johnny Appleseed as a young man, th e dream of what hemight doshowing in hisface. A nd so I tried tocarve him; his hand dippinginto the bag of seed, branches of apple trees growing up about h im as ifhe saw them in avision.

Then The Smasher, Plate 12. I cannot remember the exact incident,something that happened locally, but I do remember the face of the manwho set the idea in mymind.He was a humble man, aminer or a janitoror a garbage collector.All I remember is the face. He had been unjustlyreprimandedth e sort of thing that happens: a stupid though powerfulperson, showing offhispower, playing the petty tyrant. This man had justbeen th evictim ofsuch aperson. H elooked up and in hisface was indigna-tion, hurt, resentment.And the thought flashed intomymind,"That's thesort of thing that makes revolution. Drive that man a little fur ther and hewill strike back with anything he can find arock, ahammer, apitchforkand theoneswhohave really started it, the stupid, the powerful, the arro-gant, will cry out at his brutality " Thus I carved The Smasher. Manypeople have commented that he has the jaw ofMussolini. Sure enough, hehas, though it did notoccur to me while carving. Later I carved anotherSmasher striking with his bare fists, and later still another, with a greatrock,whichI called Guerrilla.

Theseare enough examples to showyou how ideas have come to measthey do to anyartist.It makes for an exciting life: no incident, howeverslight, passes unnoticed. Youwillbe forever trying to seebehind the inci-dent, strivingtounderstand; your mindhas to be, and is,alive.

O negets th egermof anidea, often it is afragmentary, slight thing that3


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Plate 12.The Smasher. Oak, 1943. 18 inches.


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glances into the mind and you think about it for a moment, then cast itaside e xc e pt that you really do not: it sticks, and gestates. Days, weeks,months,oreven yearslaterthe idea comes back, strengthened many times,and bythen it hastaken shapeand that shapefixesitself sostronglyinyourmind that you feel impelled to put it into lasting form. After you havefinished the thing, it then begins its own lifeand you go on to other things,sometimesalmost forgetting it. Occasionally I see a piece of sculpture thatImade some yearsago and cannot rememberwhy I did it, nor can I feelanykinshipto it. Sometimesit strikesme as being better than what I amdoing at the moment. "Pretty good," I think, and a little glow of pridecomes to me. But on the other hand I am often distressed by the seemingemptinessandreproach myself forineptitude, andthink "How couldIeverhave done that?"Then I feel discouraged and wonder if that inner com-pulsion to bring a certain idea into being is not after all as much a curseas ablessing.

In any case, anearly work isusuallyanimpersonal thing to me, as if ithadbeen done by another artist. I suppose it ismuch thesame feelingasaparent might havew hosees hischild after anabsence ofyears.Forworksof art, to the one who created them, change to o j us t as people change.This sounds rather silly, but it istrue. O fcourse what happens is that th eartist changes, not the hunk of wood to which he has given form. And yet,onthe other hand, when I look at some of my earlier sculptures, not havingseen them for years, I am amazed to find things there that I would swearwerenottherein the firstplace Because,yousee,theidea thatbrought thework into being e ve n after I had given it form and thus dismissed itcontinued to grow in my mind, so that I see the carving as I would do itlater, rather than the way it actually was done.

It is nogood tryingtom anufacture ideas: they must cometo the artist.B ut the artist's mind, like the mother's womb, must be receptive, ready totake in thegermof anidea. And it isthis receptivity, orperhaps perception,which can be cultivated. How? B yeducation, ofcourse. And by educationI do notnecessarily mean theformal businessofgoing to school, althoughthat is apartof it. As anyeducator knows, each of usreceives hiseducation

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mostly through himself, as the result of individual effort; classes, assign-ments,curricula, teachers, at best do no more than leaven our minds a tworst, they deaden them. Now the education of anartist is, to me, themostinteresting of all, for it leads th e individual into strange byways, into allkindsofstrange and wonderfu l knowledge. It is the sort ofeducation everyh u m a nbeing should have,notjustthe artist amongus. We toooften forgetin oursearch forwealth, power, physical possessions, that we are first of allhum an; it is sovery easy, blinded by greed, tobecome sub-human oranti-human.

What would I suggest as an education for the artist? The first thingwould be music: always and in great doses, music Not necessarily thestudy ofmusic or of any given instrument, though this would do noharm.It does not make much difference where one beginswhether with jazz,boogie-woogie, sentimental songs,orTschaikovsky. Remember that it isalsoeasy to educate one's self into asnob B utbeginning anywhere in music,ifthe mind grows and the appreciative power with it, one comes to Bee-thoven an d Bach an d Mozart,and there is nopoint in forcing th e process.Musiciscertainly thenoblestcreationof man and the bestisnonetoo goodin the education of thecreative person, who is toorare among us.

Solet usplace music at the top of the listas thegreatest single generatorof ideas;the greatest leavenerof themind.Istudied the violin, organ, andpiano for a total of some fifteen years, and those years as ar t trainingwerenotmisspent. Aslong as IliveI shallhave music,particularly when Iam atwork.T he chipsflyfaster, th emind is lubricated, everything iseasierto do,carried as itwereongreat billows ofsound.

Then literature, great literature. Read asmuch of it as you can. A ndhere is aword forparents: don't b e afraid to let your children read any-thing, eventhoughyou may consider someof the ideasshocking for one soyoung.I read everythingI couldlay myhandson as achild, protectedbymymother's ignorance inmany casesI can still see her cocking an eye atm ewhen sh efound m eburied inwhat seemed to be anunusually interest-ing book Ideas have never hurt anybody, and the bigger the ideas, thebetter.Theyoungster,the immatureofmind, willbe anuisance,but that's

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to be expected. When he begins to spout Freud and Ma r x and Veblen atyou,don'tbe frightenedorshocked; spout right back at him.For you, too,should be familiar with books, ideas. Read asmuch as you can from th eminuteyou areable toread untilyou are so old youcan'tsee the page.Ifnothing else, it will giveyou something to talk about and there's nothinglike an enlightened exchange of information: I am not saying exchangeo fideas, for they are sorare that w e don't find many original ones enteringinto conversation.

And nature, as an educator, is the best I prescribe great doses of it,whatever your age. Y ou should browse, go into th e woods, wade in thestreams, pick up stones; taste, smell, hear, see, feel. Nature is the bestdeveloper ofwhat we call"taste,"fo rnature isnever vulgar. She isgrandi-ose to apointthatwouldbevulgarin ahuman creature,yet isnever vulgarherself. She is wasteful, greedy, lustful, inconsiderate, destructive, silly,noble, grand, sincere, playful nature is everything that man is and thensomemore.She is agood playfellowfo rman, agood generator ofideas.

Then, have contact with materials of allkinds: natural materials espe-c i al l y e a r th , rock, wood. Make with these, create Learn to know thetexture of smooth, polished wood and the texture of old stumps whoseedges have rotted away; learn the difference inrocksthe glint of granite,quartz, the crumbling quality of sandstone, the smoothness of a boulderrubbedby thewind,therain.

Ideas will come. Perhaps not ideas always for the artist's use, but atleast ideasfor ahuman being. A nd nomatterwhat youare, whether doctor,merchant ,lawyer, chief, your lifewill be richer.

N ow to get back to the subject. Suppose you do have an idea forsculptu re; you see a figure inyour mind an d feel it isready to becommittedto amaterial. Which material? Suppose it is the homely figure of awork-man; specifically, a farmer. Obviously this is most suited to wood. B utwhich wood?The choice would depend upon what the figure has tosay:tiredness, energy, youth, age, kindness, humbleness, it must be a simplestatement. O ne o f these is enough, though in portraying one thing you

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probably wil l portray many othersas a luxury for the beholder. A ndhe will bring to his looking what-ever capacityhe has to understand.A ll you can do for him is to statethe thing as simply and as clearlyas possible. In your sculpture youare talking to people, saying some-thing to them; your sculpture isyouralphabet, your grammaronemight call i t a human alphabet. Asyou know, the best way to say any-thing, the surest way to be under-stood, is to speak as simply as youcan. And the same is t rue in sculp-t ur e i n any art. Speak simply sothat you may be easily understood.For you are, as it were, writing aprimer of humanity.

In making your sculpture, you must decide the material, the kind ofwood. This choice itself is asubtlepart ofyour statement. Use oak if ruggedstrength is to be shown or the gnarled hands of the aged. Walnut if acertain animal grace is to be depicted. Cherry if the color is to play a partin showing the glow of health, the inner warmth. Pear , if minute detail isnecessary and the color is not too important. Apple, should you wish towork in detail and want strongly marked grain for accent.

After long working in many woods you learn which wood is best suitedto your purp ose. L et us look at some examples of my sculpture and see howgoodor bad my choicehasbeen.

The two carvings I have made of John Brown, Plates 1 and 4, are inoak, a woodthat speaks of the toughness the moral fiber of the man.

The Athlete's Head, Plate 13, is in ebony, highly polished, to depict a

Plate 13. Athle te 's Head. Eb ony,1941. 15 inches.

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certain kind ofexotic creature, forwehave often made ourathletes in -to exotics instead ofhuman beings.There ispride instrength here, b utpride gone a little perverse: thenarrowand pointed, almost phallic,head; the too carefully brushedhair; the sensual lips and eyes of aman whose body has been devel-oped at the expense of hismind,sothat he has become a suave, pol-ished animal with th e beauty of ahorse or a bull rather than th ebeauty of aman.

Plate 14,American Youth: hereis the beauty of a man, no t fullygrown to manhood, but the prom-ise is distinctly there. He too hashis sensuality, but it is that of a

good,well-rounded man; in his face onedoes not seewhat one sees in thefaceo f The Athlete. Here is awistfulness, aplea fo runderstanding ofyouth,asking onlythathe beallowed tolivehis life; tomarryandbeget children;to havehis job and do itwell; tolive atpeace with th eyouth ofother lands.Compare these tw oheads and see howeach says a different thing. Can youimagine the athlete married with a happy family around him? Can youimagine him being tender, having understanding? No, he is an exotic, anorchid. And he is made in ebony, a rare and exotic wood, unnaturallyblack. Whereas th eAmerican Youthis inpear: awood that bespeaks gracein th e tree itself, its fragrant blossoms, th e lilt of the trunk and branches.A nd as acarving wood, though it ishard and brittle, it lends itself to thecarving ofobjects possessed ofspiritual aswell as animal grace.

The Boogie-Woogie Boys, Plate 15, is in cherry, which may seem a36

Plate 14.American Youth. Pear,1943. 17K inches.


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strange choice. I wanted a certain warmth, a certain inner fire like theinsistent, rhythmic beat of the bass. I know that the piano is the instrumentofboogie-woogie, but I did not want it in the sculpture: in any case, I feelsure that any of these boys could drop his accordion, drum, or banjo andturn to the piano What I particularly wanted to put into the sculpturewas the feeling ofthese jazzboys, playing onhour after hourvery tired,yet going on,halfasleep. I wanted the feelingof the smoke-filled room andtheboys continuingtoplay,theirminds elsewhere.

Coin'Home, Plate 16, is in oak. Let me tell you a little story about her.I had a very specific idea in mind when I made this sculpture, but did notgiveher the specific titlethenbecause I felt that this woman pertained tosomethingso localthatnot many people would understand. When she wasfirst exhibited in New York, an acquaintance ofmineone ofthose sophis-ticated,ratherbrittleNewYorkbusiness girls,or so I had always consideredher c am e in. This was the first figure to catch her eye. "Good heavens "sh eexclaimed, stopping in f ront of the sculpture, "you've done an old coalpicker " That was, of course, the idea that I had had in mind and CoalPickerwas theright title.As achild,Iusedto seetheseoldwomen walkingalong th erailroad tracks an dpickingup pieces ofcoal that had fallen fromthe coal carsas they rolled by. Naturally it would have been easier to stayat home on a cold day and have a man deliver a load of coal, but thesewomenwere to opoor to buy coal. Sothey walked along andoccasionally,with afurtiveglance around, stopped topickup apieceofcoal which theyslipped into their sack; they did it casually, absent-mindedly, pretendingthat they were interested in something on the ground and the coal wasincidental to that interest. After al l they were engaged in a form of pettythieveryand how didthey know therewas not arailroad detective hidingoverthere in a bush? They didn't realize that he would not bother to patrolalonely stretch ofopen country. It's th e sort ofthing that makes onewanttolaugh and cry at the same time. The oldwomen were stealing the coalout ofnecessity agrim, tragic sight in a great wealthy country such asours. But think howmany times you have heard parents say, "N o matterwhat,mychildrenare notgoing hungry." Well,hereis ourlittleoldwoman,

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he r sack full of coal; she has left railroadproperty and is walking along th e publicroad.Try to get hercoal awayfrom her She'sgoing hometofeedherkids.

What I am trying to say here, howeverhaltingly, is that the choice of wood shouldbesuited to the subject matter. And beyondthat, whatI say isthis:I am anAmerican;Iknowthepeople Icarve, their histories, theirproclivities, their weaknesses, strengths, hab-its, their grandeur and their baseness. Inshort, Iknowwhythey arehumanand I amtrying to show them thus and to explain toyouwhat they are andwhy. When they crossyour path, you must and can understandthem. In my sculpture I amtrying to talk toyou. If you do notunderstand what I amsay-ing in the sculpture, part of the failure maybemineandpartmay beyours.It takesbothof us tomake awork of art do its job.

Would it not be silly for me to try to tell you something about peoplewhom I myselfdo notknow? Imagine my attempting to portray Chinesedancers orTibetan monks or Egyptian deities or the gods of any countryother thanmyown Yes,it seemsto methatthe artist does have a distinctobligation as far as his subject matter isconcerned. H e must "talk" aboutsomething thatheabsolutely understands.

Plate 16. Coin' Home. Oak,1940. 18M inches.

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Ifyou are reading this with perception, youwillrealize that again andagain I am saying, "The best sources of ideas and subject matter for anAmericanartistare in his ownbackground andculture." Thatis the cleareststatement I canmakeof aconviction thatwithme isalmostareligion.

Yet this conviction ofmineno t that Iclaim sole ownership of it, sinceit is as old as art a ro u s es a great deal of indignation in many artists. Itwould seem that instating it, one were trying tolimit the artist to averysmall area, were placing a straight-jacket onhim. Which is a strange con-cept, considering that our own culture and background is as rich as thatof any other artist in any other time or land. Certainly the Bible and allthatitcontains is apartof ourcultureand this alone embraces a universeof ideas. Then there is our own time with its jazzmakers, night-clubs, roadhouses,hot-dog stands,filling stations,ourgreat co-educational institutions;hoe-downs, quilting bees, moonshine whiskey, mountaineers, cowboys,farmers, mill workers, baby sitters, miners W hy attempt to list th e thou-sands of things that are either as American as corn-on-the-cob or else sochanged a s in the case of a country hoe-downfrom their old countrycounterpartsas to bealmostnewthings.Wehaveour ownfolklore, legends,tall tales, customs, regional differences,dialects,b eliefs:what a rich country

And yet how often one meets a young man, bright out of one of ourgreat universities, whoseems toscorn hisheritageandspeak witha quick-ening of the voice an d mind only when talking of Chaucer or the Renais-sance or the Greeks orsome work of art or folk tale of a remote land. O nmention of some quite homely festival or custom of the American hinter-land, a silence falls. O ne listens to his praise of some minor but esotericEuropean poet for a time, then mentions one of our ownminor but indige-nouspoetsand hewithersyouwithhiscontempt. Whitmanwas amuddle-head; John Brown was an old fool;CarrieNationshe smashed windows,was a prohibitionist, a narrow-minded old hag What isbehind this atti-tude? Can i t be that th e boys are ashamed oftheir parents? Yet, though itis ahard pill for the professional esthete and the super-refined to swallow,we allcame from th e same people, and it isonly by sincerity, by "belong-ing" wherewebelong, bybeingwhatweare, thatwe canproduce art.

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ToolsAN D THEIR CARE

F O R ANA R T I S T , space and the luxuryo fgood things are as important as thetools of the trade. This is difficult to explain to the layman who arguesthatitdoesnotmake much differencewhereoneworks,sinceworkcertainlyis hateful toall.T he difference lies in the fact that th e artist loveshiswork;ishappy, really happy, only when he is atwork. And if art is anecessity fo rh u m a n beings, then pleasant surroundings are necessary for the artist. Itdoes not follow that all artists do have those pleasant surroundings. Inreality, for financial reasons, most artists are forced to work inextremelyunpleasant an d crowded environments. Yet,asCarl Milles said to meonce,anartistshould b esurrounded b ybeautiful things. Fortunately, beauty fo ianartist isoften found inquite simple an d inexpensive objects; th e branchof atree, abunch of flowers, apiece of cloth, an old piece of furniture re -trieved from an attic. Space is the first requirement, and given space, th eartist will makehis own environment. It may appear to the casual visitorthat th e studio is a terrific clutter of junk, but it isalways junk which foronereasonor another appeals to theartist.

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So,in giving specificationsfor a sculptor's studio, I say, "Get as muchspace as youcan; equip th e room with th e minimum of tools, then just le tyourself go " It will soon become your room, your sanctuary.

I knowonepainter who has hisstudio in a small bedroom. When youenter thedoor your eye isassaulted by amyriad ofobjects. There is not asquare inchof the floor andwalls that doesnothold something:bits ofgrass,moss, rocks, branches of trees, decayed wood, skeletons, shells, feathers,pictures clipped from papers, books, magazines; paints, brushes, furnitureof al lkinds; hunks ofclay, canvases stacked upon canvases, pictures in allstages from th esketch to thelast varnishing, pictures piled on top ofevery-thing and precariously balanced so that occasionally there is a crash anddown come several more things to the already cluttered floor. "Leave italone," he says,"that's al lright," as if thevery falling is apart of hiscrazyplan When onemoves,he does so at his ownperil, hisankles knocked byprojectingcorners of frames, benches, furniture. And yet the room is alive,charged with theman's personality, and I can understand why he paintsbest right there where everything is soobviously in the way. Beautiful sur-roundings? Well, beautiful to him.

Plate17showsmypresent studioin Minneapolis.Theglass wall dividesth espace into tw orooms, the one in theforeground forwork inwood an dth e farther one forwork instone. Stone dust must bekept out of thewood-working area, hence the glass wall and the door which closes tightly. Inth estone-working room is a sink, anecessity when one works with plasterorclay.

Thewood sculptor needs a sturdy bench suchas the one Ihave alwaysused, shown in Plate 18. Youwill se e that th e bench is equipped with aheavymachine vice forholding the piece ofwood inplace.Avise is not in-dispensable, but it is almost so .There ar e ways of securing wood with ahand screw through the bottomof the bench, but I have never found thismethod very satisfactory.If youhappen to beworkingon alargeandheavypiece ofwood, such as the log from which Eroica, Plate 3, was made, youneednot secure it in anyway. However, at the beginning youwill proba-bly beworkingonsmall pieces, when avise seems indispensable.

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Plate 17. The studio.Plate 18.The w ork bench.

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You can have the bench made by a local carpenter, or make it your-self, out of heavy oak 2 x 4 for the legs and braces, with a top 2 inchesthick. Yo u will notice th at my be nch is enclosed w ith plywood , whichmakes a good storage space, but this is not necessary. The cost is not pro-hibitive and such a bench is much better than any you can buy from sup-ply houses.The vise, however, is another matter. My vise cost about seventy dol-lars,which may seem to be a lot ofmoney. But it is an unusually large vise,opening out wide enough to hold a block twelve inches in width. Andthough it may seem to be an extravagance, it has paid for itself many timesover in the time it has saved me. You can get a smaller vise that will beadequate for about fifteen dollars. (See the Appendix fo r names of dealersw ho furnish supplies.) But when purchasing a vise, get one that will openout as far as possible; the wider it opens, the more useful it will be to you.There are regular wood carver's vises, but I have never been able to findthem fo r salein this country.Alan D u r st , in his book on wood carvings (seeth e Appendix), shows a picture of the vise he uses, but it isexpe nsive an dwould haveto be purchased in England. It is t rue that the metal vise suchas I use mars th e wood, but if you leave a piece at the bottom for clamp-ing, as explained in the next chapter, no harm is done to your work. If, forfinal polishing or for carving your signature, it is necessary to clamp th efinished work in the vise, you can insert tw o pieces of soft wood betweenth epiece of sculpture and the metal jaws of the vise. I always have on handsome small pieces of plywood of a suitable size fo r this purpose.

Thenyou mu st havea good mallet.Two are shown in Plate 18.N ei theris expensive. I advise having the two shown: the larger one m ade of lignumvitae is for blocking out and heavy work, th e smaller one made of hickoryis for details (see the A ppe ndi x) .

You will need the two wood rasps shown just next to the vise in Plate18. The one at the extreme left is coarse-toothed, about 14 inches long; theone next to it is known as a bastard-toothed file and it may be the samesize, 14 inches or shorter. B e sure to have these rasps fitted with handlesten or fifteen cents extra.Theseyou can buy at almostany hardware store.

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Thenyouwillneedapairofgloveswith leatherpalms asexplained in thefollowing chapter.

N ow fo r th e cutting tools: get three or four carpenter's chisels one isshowninPlate 18, the fifthobject from the left.Don'tbe stingy. Get goodones, made of thebest steel. Buck BrothersorStanley chisels are my pref-erence, with leather-tipped handles, but there are several other makesofchisels with good steel in them. You should have one 2 inches wide; oneeach of D ainches, 1inch,an d / inch.A s abeginning you can getalong withonly th e 1/2inch size and add theothers later. But Irepeat, getgood chisels,made of the best steel obtainable. There is no economy in buying cheaptools.

As to gouges: again as a beginning I recommend regular carpenter'sgouges. One isshown in Plate 18next to the carpenter's chisel. Three ofthese are enough, sizes 1/ 2 inches, J sinch, and / inch. If you do not wish tobuy all atonce, startwiththe inch one. However, if you arelikeme, onceyou begin carvingyouwon't be able to resist tools. Let your pocketbookdetermine what youbuy

PerhapsI should sayhere that whenIbegan carvingI had onlyan oldmallet, a wood rasp, one small gouge, and one 1/2inch chisel. With thissimple equipment I turned out many pieces of sculpture. A s a matter offact,even now Iquite often use nomore than four or fivetools in the exe-cution of apiece ofsculpture. And asoutlined in the chapter onRasps,youcando itwithtwo tools only

N ow b uy yourself some sharpening stones. A carborundum stone withtw o surfaces, onecoarse, th eother a bit finer. You do notneed one aslargeas shown inPlate 18 (backof the mallets, extending to the oil can); the5 x 2inch size islarge enough. Then anIndia stone, also with acoarse anda fineside,5 x 2, asshown inPlate 18 to the right of the small mallet. A ndan Arkansas stone for the final honing, 5 x 2, as shown next to the Indiastone. Youwill notice inPlate 18right next to the Arkansasstone tw ostonesof odd shape. These are slip-stones and are used as explained later in thischapter. Y ou will need the two shown: one for gouges, th e other fo rV-shaped orparting tools. Then, to gowith the stones, a small can of oil

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such as the "3 in 1"shown: any household oil will do. If you are a purist,get Pike's Oil for sharpening stones.

With somewhat bated breath, you come to professional carver's tools.If you are like me when I first discovered their existence, you will go alittle out of your mind Even if you are a Rockefel ler , get a good firm gripon your pocketbook for the first month, anyway, until you k n o w (as Iknew practically the first day) that you have to carve to be happy. Allyo u absolutely need is a small veiner fo r details. A No. 9, s inch will do .Write to one of the dealers shown in Appendix and ask for a catalog ofcarv-ing tools; it will show shapes, numbers, and sizes of all tools. Don't makethe mistakeofgettingtools too small: they make your worktightand fussy.U se a tool that seems even a bit too large rather than one too small. I oftenseestudents tryingto block out a largishfigurewith a % inch tool when theyshould be using the largest one in their outfit, at least 1/2 inch.

Ifyou are not going to be satisfied with the veiner only, get yourself aN o. 1, / 4inch straight chisel. The fishtail chisel, fourth from the left inPlate18, isbest, for it enables one to work around corners and in small places.(See the Appendix.)

Here are other carving tools you should have: one No. 2 gouge, almostflat / 2 inch; one skew or corner chisel / 2 inch; one No. 6 gouge / inch; oneNo. 6 gouge 1 inch; one V, or parting, tool / or % inch; one No. 8 gougeinch.N ow you may find that this is far more than you can afford at first. Mysuggestion isthat you let your family an d friends know what you wouldlike in the way of C hristmas and birthday p resents B ut be sure that youtell them what and where to buy, else you may find yourself presentedwith a "set" of small tools suitable only for carving little boxes or for cut-ting linoleum blocks. These completely inadequate little "sets" of tools, allneatly packed in a wooden box,are whatone is usually shown in art storeswhen one asks for wood carving tools.B uy all of your carving tools with straight shanks. I recommend this forthe reason that fancy curved shanks and fancy shapes generally, lead tofancy work. And as you will read later in this book, simplicity is the firstand last of all the rules.

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If youpause inyour work totalk, don't riddle idly with your tools. Thisispracticallytheonlyway I have evercut myself; someone would be talk-ing to meand, pausingin mywork,Iwould twirlthe toolin myhands andthe razor-like edge strikingflesh would remind me that this was no tea-party

While talkingdon'tpokeat thebench with your tool. Most students dothis until they learn better. I maystopto saysomethingto astudent, or hemayask me aquestion, andwhilewe talkhepokes aimlessly at his benchwith th esharp edge of his toolsometimes, even, at the metal vise Iusu-ally take the tool out of his hands, gently lay it down on the bench, and givehim a look. If you must be doing something as you talk, make faces, ru byournoseoryour ear,orpull your hairout by theroots,butdon't poke withthe sharp edge of your tool

Don'tthrowatoolon thebench;lay itdown carefully. Ifyou're slightlysuperstitious as I am, it might be a good thing at the beginning to learnthat "acutting edge is asacred thing"and begoverned accordingly.

When you are through work, put the tools back in their proper placesin therack,and besure that there areproper places;nopoint in searchingfor a tool. Right here a t th e risk of sounding bromidic i s th e place tosay, "Aplace fo reverything an d everything in its place."

In short, treat tools as if they were rare things, handle them as if younever would have another.

A rack such as isshown in Plate 18 isgood. You can very easily makethis yourself. Bore holes ofvarious sizes and cut slots at the sides of theholes to take care of the wider chisels. Make a shelf of soft wood underthis racksothatif one of the tools should work loose from itshandle whichfrequent ly happens, itwill drop down on the shelf rather than on the floor.Also,someof the tools have larger cutting edges thanhandles and if theholeislarge enoughtoadmitthecutting edge, thehandle will fall through.In this case, the edge of the tool can rest on the wooden shelf beneathwithout harm to it. You may be able to devise a better rack than the oneshown. Thisonejust happens tosuitme: everything isright at hand and Iknow where each tool goes.

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When you get new tools they ar e supposedly sharpened, ready foruse.Actually,theyarenot.Let usassume thatyouhavegot the newchisels andgouges listed earlierin the chapter. Sharpen them allimmediately and putthem in their prepared places.

First, the stones: put a few drops of oil on the stone you are going touse.Newcarborundumand India stones absorb oil like blotters, but keeponadding oil as it disappears that is, as you sharpen. The stone will be-come saturated after you have used it a few times. This reminds me of arather annoying experience I once had when going to California. I tookalonga fewchiselsandstones thinking that Imightdosome carving whilethere. They were in asmall kit, so I tucked it away in the top trayof mytrunk. Irode across th e desert inair-conditioned comfort; m ytrunk was inthenon-air-conditioned baggage car. When I unpacked, I found that theoil in the stones had "rendered" outwith th eresult that th e contents of mytrunk were soaked in the best sharpening stone oil It was amazing howm u ch oil had come out ofthose stones

Keep th e sharpening stones clean. If sawdust or dirt gets on the stonewhile sharpening, wipe the stone clean with acloth and put on fresh oil.When you are through sharpening, wipe the stone clean, Don't leave oilstandingon it tocollect allsortsofdust anddirt.Thestones should be keptjust asneat as the other tools.

Start sharpening the chisels, since they are the easiest.The carpenter'schisel, beveled on oneside, isheld asshown inPlate 19. The tool ispassedback and forth rapidly, being held as shown with the bevel firmly on thestone. Youmust learn th e "feel" of the bevel, that is ,place th e chisel onthestone until itrests evenlyon the bevel, thenas youmove the tool backand forth,be surenot to tip orrock it sothat thebevelis first on the flat,then on one orother of the edges. Agood flat bevel is very important; itislike arudder guiding th e tool when youcut. Y oushould soon be able topassthetool backand forthon thestone, thebevelas flat at the end of thestrokeas it was at thebeginning; it's amatter ofkeeping th ewrists firm andnotwobbling up and down. Don't keep at it until you've worn the metalup to thehandle Ihaveahabitofcounting the strokes: 1, up andback;2,

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Plate 19 . Sharpening a chisel.Plate 20 . R emoving the bu rr from sharpened chisel.

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up andback; 3, up andback;and so on. A"sharpened, ready foruse" chiselusually needs about seventy-five or ahundred strokestoremovethe slightridgesthat youwill notice on thebevel of a new tool. This firstsharpeningshould not be on the coarse side of the stone; use the smooth side of theIndia orcarborundum.

When you have sharpened enough to remove those slight ridges thatshowed at the beginning, pass your finger across the back or unbevelededgeof thechisel and youwill probably feel a slight burr. Remove this byturning th e tool over (Plate 20) and taking two or three careful strokesagainst th e edge, as if youwere cutting. This should remove th e burr. B utit may not: burrs are sometimes stubborn and have a way of bendingaround the cutting edge. So, now run your finger across the beveled sideand feel if theburr isthere; if it is,then gently rub thebeveled side againsttheedgein thecutting direction and feelon the opposite side tomake surethat th eburr isgone. If it isnot, repeat th e operation until it is. Be carefulin rubbing on the unbeveled or flat side of the chisel as you may start abevel there which will interfere whenyou use the tool. One way to avoidthis is tohold th e chisel very flat to the stone, asshown inPlate 20.

N ow try the chisel on apiece of very soft wood; white pine iswhat Iuse.If,likearazor cut, the cut issmooth withno"pull"to it, then the toolissharp. If there isapull, or ifsmallgroovesshow up in the cut, indicatingnicksstillin the tool, then sharpen itmore untilyou can cut cleanly acrossth e grain of the pine.

Thenfinally,honethebladeon the Arkansasstonein the samewaythatyousharpened it on theIndia stone. This takes justabout th esame numberof strokes. When you are through, th e bevel should b e smooth and bur-nished.If it is ahand tool, that is one not to bestruck with the mallet butrather pushed with the hands, then strop the blade on leather. A reallywell-sharpened hand tool should glow like polished silver.Sharpenall thechisels inthisway.If youhavea fishtailchisel,youwillseethat it isbeveled onboth sides,so you sharpen both sides asabove, ex-cept it is avery good idea totake th esame number ofstrokes on each side,otherwise onebevelwillbestrongerthan theother. Thisis how I happened

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to get the habit ofcounting th estrokes when sharpening: th e fishtails, th eskews,and the V'smustbe the sameoneachside, hence the obvious wayfo r me tosharpen them equally was tocount strokes.

If youhavea bad nick in a tool, I advise having the tool reground bysomeone whose businessit is to dothis sortofwork. (Seethe Appendix forth ename of the firmthat grinds tools for m e . ) You can try i t yourself.Per-hapsyouhavetheknack. When I havetoregrind atool,Ipreferto use anold-fashioned grindstone withwaterrunningon it. Thefastercuttingemerywheel canruin atool in an instant if themetal gets too hot thus removingth e temper. If you do use anemery wheel, have a can ofwater handy an ddip the toolin it often tokeep the metal fromoverheating. Small nickscanbe removedbyusingfirst the coarse side ofyour carborundum stone, thenthe fineside, and finallyhoning.O r, if youprefer, use the India stone ratherthan th e carborundumit does not cut quite so fast and ispreferable fortinynicks.

N e x tsharpen th eskewso rcorner chisels. These ar esharpened inexactlythe sameway as the chisels, except you mustbe careful not tobear downono

sculpture in wood

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