As we mature, our attitudes often change, and we learn to view things differently. I very recently had an experience that has altered my perception, and method, of appreciating craftsmen and their work. This shift in my views began shortly after the passing of a very famous master bladesmith by the name of William F. Moran Jr.
Sadly, I was never able to meet Old Bill, even though he lived a scant 30 miles from me. He passed away before I had the chance. However, sometime after his death, an announcement of an estate auction found its way to me, and I made plans to attend. At the time I had the feeling that if some token from Bills life were to come into my possession that I might feel a bit of connection with this great man that I had missed by not being able to meet him. Throughout my life, I had often felt as if objects and places held onto a certain resonance of those who had interacted with them in the past.
In my excitement about the auction, I phoned my knife making mentor Dave Morgan to see if he would like to come to the auction. It was a short conversation, but one that would forever alter my perception of what people bring to the world they inhabit. Upon asking Dave about his plans for the auction, he said, I dont need any of Bills things. It was an honor just to have known him. These simple words sparked a kernel of thought that lead me to my current appreciation of Bill Moran the man, not simply the objects he made.
I began to think about all the stories I had heard about Bill. How he single handedly, and with dogged determination, rediscovered the art of pattern welding steel in the United States. Then, following these years of hard work, how he simply gave away the secret and taught anybody who would listen this ancient art. His love of the craft of knife making was so great that he started the American Bladesmith Society to further the education of all students of the craft of hand forging knives. He did all of this without ever asking for anything in return, and at the same time raised several foster children. It was after this reflection that I began to realize that it was better to revere the man and his accomplishments as opposed to simply coveting the objects of his life.
I made a decision that day to not go to Bills estate auction. Instead, I decided that I should take the time I would have spent at the auction and do what Bill would have wanted me to do; spend time honing my own skills. I spent the day of the auction hammering away at hot steel, trying to recall the lessons taught to me by my mentors. That time working was a time of reflection on the craft of my chosen avocation, and all those who have spent their lives teaching their students with the hope of keeping the craft alive. Through all of these thoughts I began to realize that the magic of a master craftsman is not in his work, nor is it in the man himself, but in his love of his art and the enduring spirit required to ensure its continuance into the future.
Since this shift in perceptual paradigm, my own methods of work have changed. Where I used to simply covet the skills of the masters in the art of bladesmithing, and yearn to have a small piece of their work, I now realize that there are much more important things they can provide. I now take every opportunity to interact with and learn from masters and beginners alike, regardless of the lesson they wish to teach. After only a short period of time, my new attitude has allowed the quality of my own work to improve from their lessons, and in several instances Ive become the teacher as well. I may never be the craftsman Bill was, and I will certainly never be the man he was, but if I can help in any way to continue his work, I will feel a stronger connection to him than any mere object can bring.
