Can we cultivate a culture of heirlooms, an inheritance with long renewal times, maintainable? Our oak table is approaching 100 years old, and a long time ago we played sailing ships and camps under it, as our older brothers had done before. Agrarian heritage in its different forms can provide examples round the world, from plants to furniture, to landscapes. Tools, usually in a combination of metal and wood can be precious, looked for and looked after.
It is not too big a stretch to think we will need the tools, and value our handing-on more urgently in a generation or so, or perhaps even earlier. There will be choices if we are lucky. I have made a choice here for plastic mains water supply. We are lucky there is sufficient local rural supply in our part of Britain likely into the knowable future. The old local grid of asbestos-cement and iron pipes is left to history. I guess the specific plastic grid will last for several centuries. After that they will have to cope.
One could very well say wood (or more specifically trees) are objects that have been (and are) key influences of what it means to be human: the fall and redemption both happen on a tree.
This is beautiful, thank you. I’ve worked for years with metal in artistic contexts, making things that are decidedly non-Machine in their values and aesthetics. I have a profound love of metal. We dance together in so many ways. Welding, carving, hammering, casting, rolling, stretching. The buttery helix emerging from a drill bit’s bite, the warming in my hand under the friction of a grinder, the magnetism of a chisel after a thousand hammer-taps, the straw-gold end of a temper, the wave of slate grey under a pass of bluing, the way each metal’s sparks fly in their own particular colour, the bold crystalline surface of a well-cast bronze… I could go on. But your words make my heart swell for wood. For its smells, for its textures, for its soul.
yes - bravo to wood I often think about how we never criticise a rose or a tree for its shape or growth - yet our eyes (thanks to media) are prone to judgement on all around us - bravo wood for staying the course of who you truly are!
Brilliant! I love wood! House full of wooden furniture. Lounge and dining furniture still perfect 52 years later. Beautiful wood.
Can we cultivate a culture of heirlooms, an inheritance with long renewal times, maintainable? Our oak table is approaching 100 years old, and a long time ago we played sailing ships and camps under it, as our older brothers had done before. Agrarian heritage in its different forms can provide examples round the world, from plants to furniture, to landscapes. Tools, usually in a combination of metal and wood can be precious, looked for and looked after.
It is not too big a stretch to think we will need the tools, and value our handing-on more urgently in a generation or so, or perhaps even earlier. There will be choices if we are lucky. I have made a choice here for plastic mains water supply. We are lucky there is sufficient local rural supply in our part of Britain likely into the knowable future. The old local grid of asbestos-cement and iron pipes is left to history. I guess the specific plastic grid will last for several centuries. After that they will have to cope.
Hear, hear! Three cheers for wood!
I love using old reclaimed timber.
I’m put in mind of Psalm 1. I guess our enduring love of wood reveals we haven’t entirely lost our humanity!
Indeed, that is a really interesting point Eric.
One could very well say wood (or more specifically trees) are objects that have been (and are) key influences of what it means to be human: the fall and redemption both happen on a tree.
I believe Wendell Berry days somewhere that human life should be paced like that of a tree. We are hasty Hobbits
This is beautiful, thank you. I’ve worked for years with metal in artistic contexts, making things that are decidedly non-Machine in their values and aesthetics. I have a profound love of metal. We dance together in so many ways. Welding, carving, hammering, casting, rolling, stretching. The buttery helix emerging from a drill bit’s bite, the warming in my hand under the friction of a grinder, the magnetism of a chisel after a thousand hammer-taps, the straw-gold end of a temper, the wave of slate grey under a pass of bluing, the way each metal’s sparks fly in their own particular colour, the bold crystalline surface of a well-cast bronze… I could go on. But your words make my heart swell for wood. For its smells, for its textures, for its soul.
yes - bravo to wood I often think about how we never criticise a rose or a tree for its shape or growth - yet our eyes (thanks to media) are prone to judgement on all around us - bravo wood for staying the course of who you truly are!
I loved this essay!