In a small hut by a river lived a ferryman. He spent his days watching and listening to the river, occasionally carrying a traveller across the water in return for a few small coins and a kind word. Every day he prepared a small meal of rice and beans, which he ate, savouring the flavours and being thankful, while looking at the flow of the water. He was contented.
High on a hill above the river, overlooking the land all around was the magnificent home of a merchant. The house was full of wonderful objects, and servants who tended to the merchants every need and serving him rich food of almost infinite variety. He was always busy, making money, chasing wealth, status and fame, and worrying about his possessions. He rarely had time to look at the river or the view from the hill.
One day as the merchant hurried past the ferryman’s hut, he stopped and said to the ferryman, “You are intelligent – If you worked as hard as me you too could have wealth, fame and fortune. You could eat fine food and drink refreshing wine instead of rice, beans and water.”
The ferryman smiled. “If you could be happy with rice and beans, you could live as I do.”
As the coffee brewed on the stove, I found myself staring at the coffee scoop sitting quietly on the counter. I carved it quite some time ago. At the time it had been a disappointment to me – it was meant to be a soup spoon. I suppose it could have been, but it wasn’t perfect to my eyes – the bowl was slightly out of round and of uneven thickness in a couple of places. It was imperfect, so was relegated to the cutlery drawer. Somehow it became the coffee scoop, a task for which it is ideally suited.
That coffee scoop holds within it many thoughts and has been the catalyst for many more, this day being no exception. As I contemplated its wonderful imperfection, its simplicity and its elegance, it set in motion the unravelling of many threads that had become interwoven and overly complicated. They needed teasing out, simplifying.
My eye moved from the scoop to the beautiful old briar pipe sitting next to it. My thoughts moved.
In the last couple of years, I’ve been beguiled by vintage British briar, to the exclusion of all else – I have been like a love-sick schoolboy chasing after the school beauty, occasionally getting a glance from those beautiful eyes, enough to sustain me, to let me know she is aware of my existence, though untroubled by it. It has been a consuming, mainly one-sided, affair – taking what I can – being happy to get a smile, to be in the presence of that laugh, to feel the joy radiating from her soul, touching and warming all those in her presence.
So it has been with the old briars; they touch me, deeply, lighting my soul, and telling me stories of lives well lived, and times unknowable in the truest sense, taking me into deep, sustained reverie. They have enhanced my thoughts, and consequently my life, if not my wallet. But some time ago the spell was shattered – The Danes had returned, marauding across my horizon, enticing me to adventure, to open my eyes and look afresh at the world, to see the innovation, the elegance, beauty, and art of the new carvers. I had to let the old ways go, release myself from attachment and desire, the inevitable disappointment arising from attainment, to be open and accepting of each new experience and the feelings that arise.
With my reacquaintance with the grain-chasers and innovators of the Danish School, I took the time to look even further afield. So, I delved deeply and gravitated to the minimalist, naturalist furniture designers. I discovered Børge Mogensen, then Poul Kjaerholm and his PK11 Chair – a magnificent minimalist design in steel – simple and elegant.
It is quite beautiful.
There is a confidence about this chair, perhaps arising from the knowledge that it is of perfect form, like the school beauty, and the old British briar. It is not the teasing overconfidence that can mar beauty; it is the quiet, gentle confidence and strength that enhances beauty, draws the eyes, and captivates the heart; that knows you are caught in a spell, but cannot, will not, harm you – why would it? It simply makes you smile, bringing joy and happiness into your life.
I pondered long, then decided to try and make a greenwood chair based, loosely, on Kjaerholm’s design; to make it my own, softer, more natural, feminine, radiant and warm I would use willow. When I found a suitable log, I set to work.
Thinking of Preben Holm, I followed the grain and had to work with some soft angles.
It has been a long time, and slow progress, but immensely interesting.
I have had to learn and practice new methods and brush up old, little-used skills.
………….I have had to think about new ways of doing things.
This chair was a practice run; the final version I will make from Ash. The difficulties I encountered, the failures and minor successes, will inform my approach to the final chair. I can simplify – but that is for another day.
I have not quite got to the point of being completely happy with just rice and beans. But I could make do with poached eggs on toast…….and coffee, for which I will need my perfectly imperfect coffee scoop. And, perhaps, one of my few remaining pipes…..