I'm going through a few changes of life at the same time. I'm getting older - one day at a time, sure, but with increasing awareness - and wake up with a few more aches after my weekly hockey game than when I was kid. I'm getting fussier. I'm trimming back my social calendar, among other things. And my workshop is slowly becoming more than 'Birdhouse Central'.
I still predominantly work on birdhouse projects (at present the shelves in the shop are full) but another line of combined work and pleasure is slowly developing. I'm at the first stage of what, in my opinion, is going to be a long, experimental, productive haul, and I already have a name for the journey. History in a box.
Like others, I find about my house many items - hard to let go of at times - I describe as part of my personal history. Photos, old letters, paintings, colourful (and wide!) polyester ties and various objects of deep, abiding and interesting interest. With the experience gained from making hundreds of birdhouses in the last decade, I'm starting to make solid shadow boxes into which I drop some of the aforementioned and meaningful bits of history, with a few words attached.
Certain objects tell their story through patina, wear marks, mars or damage, layers of dust. Observers are often left to guess, as well. For example, I would guess that Hammer 1 (in my collection) threw its weight around on many occasions in a shop or on a work bench older than I am. It likely hit many a nail right on the head or flattened dents in sheet metal. Its fine, clean, smooth handle and light weight was also likely instrumental in helping someone develop a bit of muscle and finish many important tasks for low pay. That being said, a workman, somewhere, likely felt he/she was worthy of the wage received. And so they were, I imagine, as most workmen are today.
["hard work builds muscle, improves your
appearance and fosters creativity"]
More historic hammers to follow.
Photos by GH
Please click here to read 'a bag of hammers 2'