Again with the Leica...

So of course, in the process of filming (or rather, to be technical, video-ing, or rather high definition video-ing, which is why I prefer "filming" ... just because it's easier) Phil and his work I brought along the Nikon D-80 for production stills and my Leica M4.

A wide view of Phil in his workshop. He is paused -- something he does often to stare at the wood, or his quick, rough drawings, to gain a sense of where he is, what he's doing and (perhaps most importantly) where he's going. Sometimes it seems as if these aren't pauses at all, but the real work. The rapid, often noisy, handwork with the wood is only punctuation to the heavy lifting of thought...

A portrait, of sorts, shot as we were chatting just before I left on the first day of filming. He looks somewhat more severe than he truly is here -- and thus it's really not a good portrait, having failed to fully capture him. However, it does show some of the intensity of thought that goes into everything he says.

Finally, another view of work. This is from the first day also, when he was piecing together larger hunks of wood to form the general shape from which he would carve and rasp out the more graceful form of the piece. Again, he is in a pause, turning the wood, contemplating its place and shape.

Shot with the Leica M4 and a Zeiss 21mm f/2.8 lens on Kodak BW400CN film.

The Way We Live Now...

So, even though I'm still editing the VMI New Market project (using an usual system of editing video as a "silent movie" in essence first, then going back to the interviews to create a narration of sorts -- exactly the opposite of the usual method), I've already started filming on another project.

This is Phil Welch, a woodworker -- really an artist who works in wood -- here in Lexington. I first met him at a party, hosted by someone who had commissioned one of his works: a table in with, instead of conventional legs, a bumble bee's head and legs. It was a really impressive piece, in various tones of wood. In other words, no stain or paint, just different wood tones providing the color.

At the time, I thought that watching the creation of such a complicated piece -- not to mention the artistic effort that went into it -- would be really interesting. So I suggested to him that, next time he had a good commission to work on, he should let me know so I could film it from start to finish.

This is Phil's drawing for the commission he called me about: a large jewelry box in the shape of a woman. The final piece will be only slightly smaller than life size, with a torso serving as the box, about a foot-and-a-half or two feet tall. I guess the final piece will be about five feet tall. It will hang from brackets on a wall.

The drawings, as perhaps you can see here, are not really detailed diagrams, but more a way for him to work through ideas. Nothing is set until he really starts working the wood. However, wood being wood, as he has explained to me, once you commit to a certain shape and structure, you're pretty committed.

Here he shapes a leg. He rasps and sands the pieces like this by hand, slowly drawing the shape he wants out of the wood.

Phil's actually very humble about my film. He constantly wonders what it is that he's doing that might be interesting to watch, and constantly apologizes for, as he puts it, "not much happening" as I film. Meanwhile, I'm looking through the lens and watching him think and create ... long pauses as he stares at the wood, then rasps, then touches, then rasps again, then looks, steps back, steps in. It's really quite exciting in its way. If he only knew.

Also, I have to say he's a delight to interview; the absolute opposite of a bad interview. No question goes unanswered or inadequately considered. "What are you doing today?" might lead to an extended philosophical consideration of whether what he's doing should really be considered "art", or just "artisan" or maybe even plain old "work." Or it might just result in a review of his efforts. Usually both...