Monday, November 14, 2011

Works Of The Masters: II

     We were gluing up a wooden mast, and my father assigned me the task of making the glue paddles. These were always a disposable item, used once and thrown away, so I (the wise fourteen year old) wasted no time band sawing out some rough paddles quite worthy of being thrown away. No, said my father, they need to be thinner, beveled on the working edges, cleaned up. Quickly, I refined my glue paddles, and as quickly was reminded that I knew how we make our glue paddles. He then showed me; a chisel-like blade, sides and end angled off to thin, sharp working edges, cleaned up with sandpaper, with a long and comfortably sized hand grip. They were fine tools to do a fine job, an extension of the hand and the mind's eye. To do fine work one must have fine tools, which allow the practiced craftsman to see only the work and not the tools. This is a lesson not just of tools, but of the mindset of the master; glue paddles may seem a trifling matter, but as Michelangelo said, "trifles make perfection, and perfection is no trifle." Those glue paddles were thrown away when that job was done; of late, I have taken to re-using these fine little tools.


     This is not to imply that every, or indeed any, detail of craftsmanship should be endlessly agonized over; that is the Apprentice's burden, who struggles with his first-steps in rudimentary tasks (such as, making the glue paddles); who then learns the economics of the trade as Journeyman, becoming proficient at performing fine, repeated tasks with precision and speed. The Master works with directness of purpose and a minimum of motions; they see the finished work before a single cut is made, work which seems to just fall from their hands. This is necessary for the craftsman in a competitive marketplace; and, desirable for the hobbyist and aspiring boat builder who understands and appreciates that the satisfaction of fine workmanship lies in the constant growth and refinement of skills and knowledge, as is true of sailing, golf, or any valued pastime.

     
     But before a single cut is contemplated, the design must be clear, even precisely calculated and drawn down to the final detail. This is a matter of process left to personal preference; some will work through the parts as they come to them, relying on creativity and experience as their guide. This will give results as good as the builders' knowledge allows; much as with the historic, often single generation, exemplary examples noted previously. Conversely, there are methods, techniques, records, technologies, which are the intellectual tools to bring the virtues of past works forward to present works. This is worth discussing before we proceed to specific examples of successful, Master-level vessels.

     The process of design is the process of accounting for multiple requirements of energetic and static function, large and small, until a single operational whole made of many interconnecting pieces has been achieved. It is best that the accurate determination of intention be acquired at the outset; that is to say, the actual use for the boat, in fairly specific terms, in order that form may be made to follow function. Here, it must be said, that design often does require agonizing over the small details, as there are so many competing factors to be simultaneously considered within limited dimensions, space, and available energy. This is the fascination of design, almost always beginning with seemingly impossibly competing complexities and evolving towards absolute simplicity, the most complex thing of all to achieve. Nature always seeks the path of least resistance, refining her designs to do the most with the least energy and materials.  All good design follows this path to least resistance, efficient in the use of material and energy, confirming again by mathematical proof the natural beauty in all good design.


     Designers thus always draw on works of the past to propel their present work forward. Whether taking guidance and lessons from the ancient or contemporary, or from their own most recent work, it remains that knowledge must build on knowledge. Failures, particularly spectacular failures, are often most fruitful. Ultimately, however, successes yield the most consistent successes, and boat owners no longer bang their shins on sharp protruding bunk corners if their designer has been adequately aware and diligent.


     The science of hull design for pleasure boats presents a unique set of questions to the embodiment of collected, most often mathematically expressed, knowledge of the subject. It often seems the most pertinent questions go unasked; by the client of the designer, or by the designer of the environment and conditions to be operated in. Defining purpose, asking questions, is the first step in producing successful designs. Computer technology has created the opportunity to mathematically model the complex forms of boat hulls, though the computer program must ideally be updated to reflect real world experience (science is: the facts of our experience set in order.) Into this modeling, then, must enter a level of experience (ideally of all parties) to begin the process of model-making; purpose must shape the math, to some extent. And then, the questions posed by the marine environment enter the equation, especially for human, wind, and small engine powered vessels. Yacht design has been called a series of compromises, but it is in fact a series of averages. The exception is highly specialized craft operating in controlled environments, such as racing shells and flatwater kayaks.


     Having moved this discussion along a winding course, the next several posts will (finally) be devoted to specific, successful vessels, including reflections on their design, construction, and careers. Of interest is the role played by all of the parties to these exceptional craft, the owners, designers, and builders. There is ultimately a point to these posts, which hopefully will begin to become clear if you bear with me a little longer.

     

     

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Works Of The Masters: I

     Knowledge builds on knowledge; experience bridges the generations and, if dedication prevails, refines the methods of building knowledge and the work that knowledge builds. Cave paintings of the distant past still mesmerize us with the skill of the ancient unknown masters; somehow, we know, the line from those cave artists winds its way through time until Michelangelo adds his own cave paintings to history's caves, a feat impossible without that first, equally brilliant artist. So it is with all masters.

     To lash logs into a useful raft without rope or saws required a series of skills developed over generations, plus a single-minded initiative to try it for the first time. Trial and error lead to the best methods and materials available, but knowledge is only gained if passed along to new generations. And, someone in every group was always more skilled, more naturally gifted with clear vision to guide practiced, inspired hands; the Master. This line winds its' way down streams and rivers and across oceans to the heights of  toolmaking and craftsmanship we will discuss in this posting. And, of materials, as the science of materials and their best use has been and remains at the heart of the Masters' palette.

     Boat building before the advent of modern adhesives and beddings was completely reliant on the skill and knowledge of the boatbuilder. Tight joints were more than a mark of the builders' skill; tight joints are structural, they prevent the twisting and working that leads to leaking, rot, and oblivion. This is another point where right-brain intuition recognizes the quality in tight fitting joints for the logical reason that tight joints equal structural integrity.

     It is worth remarking that when we examine the watercraft of successful waterborne peoples, we invariably find a functional gracefulness present in their vessels. Where life and livelihood depend on successful design, all contrivance is literally washed away by that greatest of teachers, experience. From this functional seed comes the intuitive recognition of good design, which over time has become recognized as beauty.

     Howard Chapelle, the prolific chronicler of America's historic watercraft and ships, noted that vessels of exceptional ability and performance would typically originate from one place for a span of perhaps fifty years; the working life of a rare individual. Before and after the time of these local masters, local watercraft were indistinct from other vessels of that region. Indeed the quality often dropped precipitously even as the lingering reputation kept orders for new vessels flowing in; until too many disappointments soured the reputation. We must take pains not to underestimate the gifts of rare individual ability, even in this age of technological wizardry. 

     There is, I hope, an obvious point to this discourse; that there are throughout history living and dead those rare individuals conceiving and creating exceptional works of beauty and function in this universe of waterborne craft. Next we will look at the process of transferring and translating the product of rare talent to new works, both as direct production and the discerned elements of skill.