1994 AAW Symposium

On Day one I ran into Russ Oliver, who was responsible for all the closed-circuit video equipment in the demonstration rooms, and he had that dazed but determined look that comes from chasing details that are beginning to chase you back. Nevertheless, "I think I'm on top of it," he told me. I smiled and mentioned something else that needed doing and he said, "You know you're still at it when you go into a room for the third time and it still looks different."

The 1994 AAW symposium in Fort Collins, CO, last June 23, 24, and 25 was many things to many people. To the record keepers it was the largest and longest symposium ever. Attendees numbered 543, and the event lasted a full three days, including some 125 rotations. To those who helped put it together (the thank-you list is on page 3), it was a prodigious task, or rather a seemingly endless series of tasks.

To those who come to these gettogethers regularly and write up reports in their chapter newsletters, this year's Turning Discoveries was "the best symposium yet." Sure, there were aspects that left something to be desired (like the inadequately sized space for the Instant Gallery and the endless door prizes that brought the banquet to a tedious close--I won six smoke detectors after midnight!), but the core of the symposium was perhaps stronger than ever. (And the Instant Gallery folks took pride in the fact that not one piece was lost or damaged.) It was three intensely full days devoted to some of the best turning education in the world. There was no holding back. Those who stood up to demonstrate gave their all, sharing tricks, pitfalls, and joys in abundance. What else would you expect from turners today?

To first-comers, it was a more surprising exhilaration. I met two initiates who stood out amid the rush of information and inspiration for their stalwart notetaking. I notice notetakers and, being only a part-time editor, I value them. I asked the two to write up their impressions of the symposium, and these appear on the following pages.

I didn't take many notes myself, popping in and out of as many as four demonstrations per rotation. Besides taking pictures, I was directing the two camcorders whose footage I will edit into an overview of the symposium. (Look for a progress report in the next issue.) So my own impressions of the symposium are rather scattered. I was given a blue symposium hat early on and that was very considerate, I thought, seeing how hot the sun was those three days- it was only later I found out that this meant I was an official who could be approached with questions and problems. I should have handed the hat to whoever I was interviewing, eh?

Nevertheless, here are some highpoints from my perspective on this remarkably eclectic and goodspirited affair.

International flavors
I was thrilled by Johannes Rieber, the German now living in Norway who had ants in his pants. He was bursting with information, and passionately committed to conveying it. Fortunately, he is a coonsummate craftsman, too, so what he did not manage to verbalize, he communicated by doing. "Have a look," he'd say after a frenetic encounter with the spinning wood, and it would jar you into realizing your eyes were still in your head, so astonishing had watching him been. To evidence the fact that "there are so many things for a woodturner to do," Rieber turned a canteen modeled after an ancient Roman Artifact. Which was more amazing--that Roman soldiers making their own equipment between campaigns turned these to an exact and consistant volume, or that this dynamo in the space of 30 minutes on unfamiliar equipment hollowed the form on a spigot chuck, reoriented it on offset centers to shape the outside, and popped in a watertight lid without even a hammer?

I was fascinated by Stephen Hughes, the endlessly resourceful Australian who turned technique into taste over and over, whether in a fretworked box lid or a wavy-edged bowl or a torch-charred rim or a checked piece salvaged by riddling it with holes. His ability to combine issues of design, safety, marketing, and wit surpassed the best TV chefs. What a feast!

I was in awe of Ray Key, the production turner from England who seemed to have the whole world in his hands. He could turn a box, tell a story, offer up the kind of design dictum you could work by for the rest of your life, save you untold time with an off-hand sanding tip, and sell you (showing slides of his early work) on the idea that you, too, could make a good living becoming a better turner. Just like him.

New and Auspicious encounters
It may not be unusual in central Texas where Harvey Helmke lives, works, and demonstrates, but his easy, thorough-going approach made for an outstanding introduction to lace bobbin making. Lace bobbins are tools, he stressed, valued in large number by those who make and appreciate lace. They're also lucrative production items when turned with the efficiency and deftness that Helmke demonstrated. (How about using a file instead of a skew to smooth the straight section of a spindle?) En mass, as they could be seen in the Instant Gallery in progress, these bobbins encompass an awesome variety of intricate detail, from spirals and free rings, to chatterwork and applied decoration. Art has a way of asserting itself where it can take form unprepossessed. So Helmke's lace bobbins have the charm and poise of works of art, and so, it seems to me, does the way he works. High craft, indeed.

Christian Burchard, who wrote on the relationship between his limited-production bowls and his sculptural pieces in the March 1994 issue, brought a lot of seriousness and heart to the challenge of depicting and explaining his creative procedures, this his first time out as a demonstrator. He showed how he offsets the work on the faceplate and adds shims to throw the piece off center and out of plane. The process is incremental and interactive, and watching him demonstrate it afforded a glimpse of how he must work. He would stop, look, and then explain what he saw and how next he would react. It was a brave endeavor, and largely successful.

Frak Sudol, who had established himself as a sensitive creator of delicate, nature-celebrating forms on the back cover of the December 1993 issue, rose to the occasion of his first national demonstration as a comic, sometimes irreverent, entertainer. He may have been, as he suggested, compensating for shyness, but it was endearing, watching him enjoy his own self-deprecating humor in big belly-laughs that ended in thoughtful pauses and further punchlines. He blamed his balding head on all the revelations he'd had, inducing him to smack his palm to his forehead, and then noted how much more than him his audience must have learned, given their own hairlines. But he was as sincere as his work when he described the meaning of what he does. And he was good for a number of practical ideas, too. He demonstrated the use of a dental handpiece rotating at 200,000 rpm to virtually disintegrate areas of his thin-walled vessels into filigrees, independent of grain direction.

Foster Giesmann, another seemingly reticent soul, offed a compelling detailed slide show on oval turning. You can read the gist of his presentation on pages 21-24.

Tried and True
To balance the exotic and unexpected were the familiar and dependably superior performances of John Jordan, Mark Sfirri, Michael Hosaluk, Clay Foster, Ron Fleming, and David Ellsworth.

Jordan tried to be realistic in assigning himself two rotations to demonstrate the making of one of his hollow vessels, from outside to inside and then back out for texturing. He offered a separate rotation on bowl-gouge technique alone. Nevertheless, he has aso much to offer that his audiences were still there after these sessions ended. Jordan, whose videos are known for their careful production, deserves commendation for the way he utilizes the closed-circuit camera, always conscious of its location and framing so that it might best convey information to his audience. He's a popular teacher because his teaching is intelligent and perspicascious. But I wish he could explain more about why his forms work as perfectly as they do.

Sfirri and Hosaluk made a good team in their hands-on design class, Sfirri the analytic visualizer and Hosaluk the more instinctive and inpromptu creator. Where they overlap is in their playful enjoyment of problem solving. In their individual rotations, Sfirri made the process of multi-axis turning accessible, although the actual shapes on the lathe were best apprehended only by those who had a straight-on view of the work. And Hosaluk offered a stream of production projects "for fun and profit," variations on a theme limited only by imagination.

Foster epitomized the woodturner's penchant for low-tech, economical solutions. You see him on the cover jousting with a 1-inch-square steel bar about 5 1/2 feet long. It weighs over 30 pounds, and this mass allows him to hang the business end of the tool up to 18 inches over the tool rest to hollow tall forms (an example of which appears on page 1). But he doesn't labor the weight around. Most people would just show you a slide of their shop-built solution. Foster installed a couple of pulleys in the ceiling of the demo and counterbalanced the lance with a pile of bricks. The tool practically floats, and moving it around in the work is effortless. Clever too, is the duct-taped license plate light bulb near the cutting end. It illuminates deep interiors at a fraction of the cost of a fiber-optic system.

Foster stands out in my mind as best representing the broad range that a symposium of this scale calls forth from a major demonstrator. Besides his deep-hollowing techniques, his sessions included a primer on green woodturning, a presentation of low-tech decorative techniques, and a refueling stop on the nature of creativity. Thus his topics spanned the gamut from technical to artistic, serving those needing initial support as well as those ready for wonderful, fresh ideas.

This balance and openness to all aspects of the craft is the surest sign that woodturning is in good health. After all the debate there has been the pages of this journal on the questions of originality, influence, and plagiarism, another step was taken at this symposium. Beyond philosophical forums, there was here plenty of hands-on work in design, creativity, and critical analysis. I counted almost twenty sessions devoted to these topics alone, not to mention substantial attention included in almost every rotations. I mentioned this to Foster, who noted, "if all you're going to teach is technique, then you have no right to complain if people take your techniques and copy your designs. We have a responsibility to teach design, took, and to cultivate creativity." No one did a better, more committed job than Foster.

Rounding things out
Demonstrations represent only the heart of a symposium, but it's difficult to describe how big that heart is. No new demonstrator offering a show-and-tell has ever been turned down at an AAW symposium. Amoung the additional topics offered this year were turquoise inlay, one-piece pens, a slide survey of the history of European turning, multi-axis rose engine work, chainsawing, segmented bracelets, chapter newsletters on the computer, tool sharpening, inlaying with bronze, scale furniture, and turning aspen, banksia pods, and alabaster (including a field trip to a local quarry).

And of course there was more. There was the Instant Gallery (glimpses of which appear on the back cover); the open board, OTA, and local chapter meetings; the panel discussions on pricing, demonstrating, and the state of the craft; the barbeque, banquet, and after-hours beer communions; and the trade show, the auction, and (new this year) a hands-on session.

And there was the planning already taking place for next year.