Photo: William Lee

David Freedman has been forging metal for over 20 years, producing unique sculptural metalwork for private homes and gardens as well as public spaces, galleries, parks and museums. His work has been exhibited the length and breadth of the UK.

With special thanks to contributors:

David Oliveira

Stephen Rook

Brian Russell

Bex Simon

ARTIST BLACKSMITH

DESIGN

And for their amazing photography

Debbie Bandara

Edward Evans

The Art Behind

Elma Freedman

Ben Jesse

Blacksmithing and

William Lee

Metalwork

Kate Weightman

Thanks to Thomas Moulton for design assistance

More of David Freedman’s work can be seen at:

www.davidfreedmansculpture.com

Details of David’s writing can be found at:

www.stuntcrow.com

Edward Evans Photography:

www.instagram.com/edwardevansffp

William Lee Photography:

www.instagram.com/bybigwill

All images © David Freedman

except where otherwise credited

Photo: William Lee

Contents

1 The Line From Pencil To Steel

2 Using The Eye

3 Pattern, Symmetry and Chaos

4 The Ancient Desire to Embellish

5 Back To Nature - The Ultimate Source of Inspiration 6 David Oliveira

7 Stephen Rook

8 Brian Russell

9 Bex Simon

The Line From Pencil To Steel

Strands of black metal crisscross my workshop like hatched pencil lines. All thicknesses and profiles, sometimes clustered into unruly bunches on rusting racks, here and there standing floor to ceiling like the spray of some petrified plant. The dirt floor is littered with the scribble of off-cut pieces which are often picked up and brought back into a piece of work.

I have come to realise that this is how I see my material, as sketch lines, from fine pencil bar to thick brush strokes of heavy flat bar and tube. This allows me to design in two key ways. The obvious way begins with the pencil which asks the metal to bend to its curves and squiggles, but the less acknowledged route to a final design often begins in the workshop. The metal can often be the best tool to inform the pencil.

Every artist blacksmith at some point will place pieces of steel on the workbench, scraps and off-cuts, forged shapes, straight bars or a series of curves, creating patterns, whether abstract or organic forms. Indeed, sometimes this process happens by itself. On forging a series of bar ends, scrolls for example, and throwing these hot to the floor of the workshop to begin the next, you turn round to notice an unexpected beauty in the pattern they have formed on the floor. Recreating these elements on the drawing table is usually more challenging than the other way around, but it can ultimately be rewarding and has the advantage that you have already seen the outcome in metal, rather than relying on your imagination as you normally would when pencil sketching.

Photos: Ben Jesse

There are times, too when sketching doesn’t even come into the process. White chalk on the black and rust mottled surface of the workbench allows great sweeping marks to form, visualising at life scale. Pieces of steel can be laid over the marks and even welded together.

Sometimes even chalk is unnecessary and sketches appear in three dimensions directly in steel, but this process requires a keen eye and a lot of patience. One of the joys of welded metalwork is that it is possible to tack elements together without committing to permanently welding them together. This means that you are able to try elements on the design and stand back, then change or remove them before final construction.

This book attempts to look at these and other approaches to design both in my own work and in the work of some very talented metalworkers whose art I greatly admire.

My own approach to design

is a form of organised chaos,

with scribbles and sketches,

templates and endless

twisted metal bars all over my

workshop. This is the side of

the artsmith that we usually

don’t see yet to me it is a

fascinating insight into how a

design comes about.

Above: Plasma cutting leaves drawn

onto steel from card templates

Photo: Debbie Bandara

Right: Photo: Edward Evans -

Sketches in the workshop, leaf

templates and sources of inspiration

Page borders: Design sketch for

a balcony handrail for a London

property.

Opposite: Placing forged scrolls

onto a template drawn on plywood

to gauge size and shape.

Photos: Edward Evans

Using The Eye

It’s a surprising fact that design is frequently overlooked in blacksmithing. Even highly skilled smiths will often focus on putting a piece of work together accurately and with expert methods, but with only a cursory nod to aesthetics, in many cases not using paper sketches at all. From blacksmithing’s roots as a functional trade, serving many other crafts and industries, an element of this practical approach remains. A vital aspect of the craft is the smith’s ability to take on any job that walks through the workshop door and send the customer on their way satisfied, and in many cases for smaller jobs this remains an important aspect of their creativity. But often this approach is carried into larger projects and indeed some smiths can pull it off, though it’s my feeling that some scribbling and visualisation of the end goal is essential for an aesthetically pleasing result.

Of the increasing number of people interested in taking up the art, many are understandably attracted to the physical aspects of forging metal, but from my experience of the many enthusiastic people who have come to have a play in my workshop I have found that having ‘the eye’ is a far better gauge of the work they will produce than any great mastery of technique. I have no doubt that many smiths more able than I would dispute this, but looking from a purely aesthetic point of view, I feel that for those who want to create artistic metalwork, vision is key. This is not to say that all artist blacksmiths must have great artistic ability, but that they need to develop their own way to visualise their work before lighting the forge. I hope that this book can help provide inspiration, not so much through examples of beautiful work that many other books can provide, but by glimpsing into the design techniques and approaches of artists who truly have ‘the eye’ for it, regardless of the methods they use to produce work.

Having emphasised the importance of design, I realised when gathering my own work for this book, how little I have sometimes relied on design drawings. On many occasions the design process has been very organic and more design has occurred in the workshop than on the drawing board. The two life size chariot sculptures I have made were a case in point

When I first received the

commission to create a public

sculpture for Durham Oriental

Museum, I knew it would involve

a lot of research. The piece was

to be a Phoenician chariot which

visitors could stand on and ‘ride’

and even take selfies. I wanted it

to be historically relevant (if not

strictly accurate) but also have

strong visual impact. My sketches

started as simple concepts but

never progressed on paper to

detailed drawings as I found I

needed to start experimenting

with metal in the workshop and

sketching in 3D. The photo

opposite top right shows a

sketch onto a sheet which I used

to gauge the shape and posture

of the horses as I built them

from an image in my head. The

great thing about steel is the

fact that you can very easily add

elements, tacked on with the

welder, and see how they look

then just as easily remove and

alter them if they don’t look right

to the eye or don’t match the

initial vision.

Building the chariot horse heads:

Top Left: Starting the horses’ features

from a sketch on the bench.

Top Right: Sketching in metal

Right: Beginning to make the 3D

structure of the heads.

Original design sketch

Phoenician Chariot

Oriental Museum

Durham

eightman, Oriental Museum, Durham

Photo: Kate W

Far Left: Embossed

lion motif on the

front of the chariot

with forged mane

Left: Dolphin detail.

This is based on

Roman depictions of

dolphins rather than

the real thing!

Below: Ram’s head

detail at the head

of the chariot shaft.

This would have

been bronze in

Roman chariots.

Opposite: Twin

horses on site in a

wild flower meadow

at Mount Pleasant

Gardens in Kelsall

Cheshire UK

Galvanised steel.

For my second chariot sculpture

I felt a freedom to design and a

lot was based on the previous

chariot, with important differences

according to the different historical

context. I used few drawings for

this piece, sketching mainly direct

onto the bench in chalk, or using

steel bar in 3D. The sculpture was

placed at the site of a Roman road

that once led across England to

the city of Chester.

Roman Chariot

Mount Pleasant

Gardens, Kelsall UK

Gates are an excellent design challenge

due to their near 2D form. This means

that what we do on paper comes to life

in a very precise way. For me this leads to

virtually all the creative element of design

happening before I enter the workshop.

The making of the gate might need some

creativity in technique and adjustments

to elements that don’t work as well when

scaled up, but the two dimensional

plan usually resembles very closely the

physical gate. The trick is always to be

sensitive to the context of the site and to

soften the function which is essentially to

create a barrier. This has to become an

invitation to enter or a sculptural marker.

Above: Gates leading

into an orchard for an

Elizabethan manor house

in Sussex, UK. The design

mimics espalier pear trees

complete with fruit.

Left: The design for a

railing panel with central

gate. The arches in

the gate emulate an

architectural feature of

the house.

Bottom Left: The finished

panel, Sussex UK. This sits

in a very formal historical

setting, so the structure

is a traditional form, but

the organic elements are

slightly ‘overgrown’ and in

places the structure warps

in a naturalistic way.

Top Left: Art nouveau style gate, London.

Including some solid areas in steel plate gives another dimension to a design, giving a feeling of substance. We inevitably look through gates rather than at them so this helps to catch the eye.

Above: A more abstract ‘reed’ style gate with a variety of natural forms, suitable for a garden.

Context is important in design. This would look more suitable among foliage than in a formal

setting. I have made so many gates in this style but each one slightly different according to its proportions, setting and function. Often the top of the gate is roughly level with the posts, but sometimes a more wild look works, with elements rising up out of the framework and above the posts.

Left: Vine trellis style gate. The lightweight structure of the gate emulates thin wooden cane trellises often used to support climbing plants. I have made many gates along the lines of this design, often where there is a gap within a garden perimeter and a trellis or a shrub might be used to fill it, giving it a kind of secret entrance feel.

This gate was one of a set of four for a property in Hertfordshire, UK. The design was based on a gate I had made previously, but the client altered the design to her taste and had specific ideas about its layout. At first I was resistant to this process as it didn’t seem to fit the ‘logic’ of the way I usually design trees and foliage, the pattern being more abstract. But this proved to be a lesson in humility, realising that my own vision was not the only valid one! I decided to create a full size template (above) which served two purposes. Firstly, it was a useful tool to photograph and send to the client as I was unsure of the design. I could then make easy alterations in paint rather than metal before construction. Secondly, it allowed me to easily make the other three gates the same. The photo opposite shows a pedestrian gate. The next two gates were a pair so were the same but mirrored. The fourth gate was another single gate for the garden.

Pattern, Symmetry and Chaos

Sometimes the most mundane of tasks can spark creativity. After a morning of thumping out endless bars on the power hammer to create a repeated detail, a curl, a squiggle, a bend, a taper, I notice a pattern that has appeared organically out of the accumulated mass of shaped bars thrown into a pile on the workshop floor. Organic is the right word.

As in nature a flower stamen or vine tendril will always be similar to its brothers and sisters it will have something slightly unique and it will arrange itself ever so slightly adrift from the rest.

Inevitably, as soon as you pick up the unruly bunch of elements and try to recreate this effect on the workbench, the magic disappears. Recreating the feel of the seemingly haphazard patterns is something I have strived to do for many years with varying degrees of success.

The trick is to harness just the right level of random. Truly random is not always pleasing to the eye. Computers can generate truly random patterns, but there is something disturbing about them to the human brain. We are programmed to see and to seek patterns. So the true beauty lies in a kind of semi-random. In nature it is everywhere from the symmetry of a tree composed of branches and twigs that are entirely unique in shape, to the patterns in fish scales that seem almost geometric and yet each scale is different in size and each pattern is unique to an individual fish.

Translating this into metal is individual to the artist. So often it involves pulling elements into rigid symmetry, but with the much adored individuality of the hand-made.

My approach has often been to use symmetry as a backdrop for less symmetrical details.

For example, I might use the formality of symmetry to create a gate framework and some of the larger details, but then add features that differ from one side to the other.

Opposite: Detail from a forged grille panel on a municipal building in Stockholm, Sweden. A combination of repeating simple shapes collared together to make a complex and interesting pattern. The shaped spaces in between the elements create the pattern as much as the metal components themselves.

It is clear from this

design drawing that I

was unsure what the

centrepiece for these

gates would be at the

time of drawing. The

loose floral shape was

enough to indicate to

the client the overall

shape and form of

the gates and that

there would be a

focal point at the top

the design of which

began in the smithy.

Top: Design for a pair of garden

entrance gates for an Elizabethan manor

in Sussex, UK. The gates were quite

formal in structure, echoing the formality

of the garden surroundings and the

period property.

Right: The finished gates installed on

site. Though quite large, the gates are

dwarfed by large formal hedges, making

it important to incorporate bold features

that in other settings would seem over

the top. Note that the centrepiece has

now developed.

This is an example of idea over technique. There is very little skill involved here, but imagination is needed to see something in a shape and from it to create a form.

Starting with a small piece of angle iron, ground to a point and hammered over slightly at the end, the shape has a leaf-like feel. Then by playing with combinations of this same shape, a more complex form emerges. There is no need for detailed forgework here and from one simple element, the crowning glory of a pair of ornate gates appears.

The image to the left shows a detail from Steve Rook’s

‘Grass Gate’. This element, laid out on the gate

template, though beautifully forged and textured, is to the eye a very simple form, yet it enhances the gently curved stems of the gate design, giving the abstract feel of a seed or a flower without needing to be true to life. It has an almost mechanical feel that contrasts with the swaying forms of the uprights. It is sometimes hard to pinpoint what make us choose a shape or form in a design. Often the eye knows best. If it looks right to the eye, it will work in the design without analysis.

Left: Detail from Grass Gate by Steve Rook

Photo: Steve Rook

Opposite: Gate for a Georgian manor house in

Cumbria, UK. This page: Design drawing.

Bottom: Photo with quick sketch to check

dimensions before construction.

There is always the temptation to over-embellish metalwork and it is important to look at both the extravagant and the simple. Often a simple, effective design is harder to achieve.

This is where pattern, repetition and just the right balance between symmetry and random is vital. There has to be a logic in design, even if it is a logic known only to the designer!

In my own style of metalwork I find it useful to think in terms of existing patterns and ideas and then abstract from that point. Often I’m guided by ideas of growth; one element growing out of another in a repeating pattern or direction.

Opposite: Top: Wallpaper design hand drawn by my grandmother Deborah Saffir in 1916. The florid design follows fashions of the time that emerged in the Victorian era and flourished into the arts and crafts period, taking inspiration from classical motifs such as acanthus leaves and lotus flowers.

Opposite Bottom: My sketch of a German cresting panel in the collection at the Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Probably 17th century with applied, embossed and engraved decoration. Again, the decorative style encompasses some natural forms combined with highly formalised scrollwork and symmetrical detail.

Below: Detail from a Victorian building in Manchester UK. The embellishment is so rich that it almost makes the lettering illegible, yet it is set in a formal framework with constrains its excesses.

My kelp gates (left) for a property in Cornwall combined two very different aspects. The house was a listed 1920s art deco building, but being by the sea, I wanted to incorporate something of this wild setting. The framework is very formal, horizontal art deco style lines but with wild kelp fronds woven in between. Weaving metal is a good way to achieve interesting textures as in the gate opposite top right which is more akin to a wooden hurdle. The panel above has some woven elements, branching in a growth pattern.

Opposite Top Left: Detail from Kelp Gates made for a property in Cornwall UK

Opposite Top Right: Woven gate design for a property in Cornwall UK

Opposite Bottom: Kelp gate design drawing showing how the kelp fronds weave around a formal framework Above Left: Design for an internal stair panel, Birmingham UK

Above Right: Detail from stair panel showing small dragonfly and acer leaves.

Simple, repeating forms seem to appeal to the human eye. Often a pattern composed of repeating features with an overall pattern of expansion or reduction is favoured, perhaps because it has echoes in nature, or maybe just because we can see order in it, and our natural propensity to organise and categorise is sated.

The examples of this overleaf show different approaches to form that have a harmony to them. Brian Russell’s impressive screen for a church in the north east of England consists of a very regular pattern of curves which draws the eye upwards. The tips, perhaps symbolising spears for the warrior entombed beyond, offer a simple and clear end to the pattern and highlight the shape of the archway. The whole piece seems to build in intensity from the base to the middle and then thin out at the top. As with much of Brian’s work, the simplicity of form hides great skill with each bar intersection being forged to accept the next bar and riveted through.

Steve Rook’s Flint Gate (opposite right) follows a growth pattern as do many modern and traditional examples of forgework, but each has its own style and I particularly like the clean and simple line of this gate which shows restrained growth of beech trees from base to top and also lateral growth that has just enough variance to feel natural. The flint is a nice touch evoking the material of the Chiltern Hills where the gate is located and also forming stylised leaves in the design.

The spiral pattern (opposite bottom) in a railing detail that I noticed on a visit to Stockholm shows how the simplest of forms, diminishing into the centre can catch our eye, almost with a hypnotic effect! Spiral forms have an important place in the design vocabulary of the blacksmith and I will talk about this more later.

Opposite Left: Screen for St Brandon’s Church, Brancepeth UK by Brian Russell, Little Newsham Forge

Opposite Right: Flint Gate, Buckinghamshire UK by Steve Rook, Forged steel and flint details Opposite Bottom: Details from a c.1920s railing panel on a public building, Stockholm, Sweden Photo: William Lee

Photo: Brian Russell

Photo: Steve Rook

The Ancient Desire to Embellish Since smiths began working metal thousands of years ago, the desire to design beyond function has been present. In fact it is perhaps fair to say that embellishment was considered an essential element of design from the beginning. The extraordinary amount of time invested in making a copper axe head three thousand years ago meant that it could not simply be regarded as a functional tool, but an object to be revered and admired. As blacksmiths became ever more adept at shaping wrought iron, it was irresistible to add some personal detail.

On many occasions, adornment is more functional than it may first appear. Ornate hinges such as those opposite don’t strictly need to be so detailed, however the tradition of adding multiple scrolls to large timber door hinges has evolved from the need to prevent warping in large planks of oak which have a propensity to twist, shrink and move with time and weather. By spreading the scrollwork across the planks, the smith allows for more nails to be fixed over a wider surface area, better bracing the structure. Going back further in time, fear of attack may have been greater motive to add metalwork. The more a great hall door was covered with metalwork, the less likely it was that an axe could go through it!

Decoration was of course also a display of wealth and opulence. A show of metalwork demonstrated your capacity to pay a team of smiths to spend valuable time creating. In the early iron smithing era, and right up until the middle ages, even the quantity of nails used in a door could demonstrate your ability to splash out.

Opposite: Detail of a hinge on the door of the 14th century St Mary’s Church, Nantwich, Cheshire UK. The hinge is probably more to do with a 19th century restoration overseen by Sir George Gilbert Scott, but would no doubt echo the medieval originals. Photo David Freedman

Above Left: Detail from the rood screen in St Mary’s Church, Nantwich, UK. Above Right: Detail from the hinges on a side door of Chester Cathedral, UK.

Scrollwork is probably the most commonly used design feature in the work of blacksmiths both modern and ancient. The metal lends itself to curling in this way when heated and hammered, and the scroll serves as both a decorative and a practical way of filling space in a design, whether for security from attack or simply to embellish. More commonly in gate designs, filling space in a decorative way also serves to contain cats, dogs and children!

The organic nature of scroll patterns mean that they lend themselves to being used as a framework on which to add further features such as leaves, flowers and more scrolls.

Traditionally scrolls are usually laid out in symmetrical patterns though there are exceptions. In my own work I like to play with the natural forms that scrolls suggest, pulling them back into irregular and organic shapes, though often maintaining the formal framework of traditional wrought iron designs.

The example below left is from a large gate I made for a Georgian Manor House in Cumbria where the setting and surrounding architecture required a certain formality, but by allowing the scrollwork to escape symmetry in places and also exaggerating the floral detail adorning the scrollwork, the overall feel was of traditional metalwork that had somehow become overgrown.

Below Left: Detail from a gate I designed for a Georgian Manor House in Cumbria showing asymmetric scroll patterns. Below Right: Door of Edstaston Church, Shropshire, UK showing strap hinges and strengthening bars which have clearly stood the test of time. There is an element of decoration acknowledging the importance of the building, though the primary purpose of the design is strength.

Above: Detail from a drawing by W.Beswick. Opposite: Drawing of Malpas Church Gates, Cheshire (1913) Reproduced from ‘Wrought Iron and its Decorative Use’ by Ayrton & Silcock (1929) by kind permission of Dover Publications Inc. (2003 re-print).

When I first came across this superb drawing, I was excited to know the smith that had created it. Despite the source being a 1920s US book, by strange coincidence, the gates happen to be in my local area in Cheshire in the UK. I then discovered that this beautiful illustration was made for the book and was not a design blueprint. In fact the gates date to the 1700s and were probably made by the Davies brothers, working out of Wrexham between 1702 and 1755, though this attribution is not certain.

What struck me about the design was the artistry of both the drawing and the design itself.

Essentially the work of two fine artists, the smith and the illustrator. The illustrator’s use of line is so delicate that it reveals every detail, with just enough shading to pick out depth and thicknesses without excessive weight.

On a recent visit to Malpas I was surprised to see the great condition of these gates, with no obvious sign of restoration or repair (though I dare say there must have been some).

Opposite Left: Main Gates at St Oswald’s Church, Malpas, Cheshire. Opposite Right: Side gate, Malpas Opposite Bottom: Cresting over side gates, Malpas Church (c.1750, Welsh smiths).

Bottom Left: The Iron Bridge, Coalbrookdale, Shropshire (1781). Bottom Right: Detail from the iron bridge.

Though these gates have some florid elements, they are restrained in their design compared with many contemporary gates on manor houses and castles. The mastery of many techniques is evident here, with acanthus leaves in repoussé, tenoned joints and many shapes of forged bar and scrolled ends. Unusually for a design of this period, the panel above the gate (opposite right) has an asymmetric design.

On a recent visit to Ironbridge Gorge in Shropshire I was curious to see what concession was given to decoration in the design of the (world’s first) cast ion bridge. The bridge design is usually attributed to Abraham Darby jr, but though he developed the technology necessary to make it, the structure was designed by Thomas Farnolls Pritchard. The main purpose of the bridge was to drastically reduce the weight and density of structure needed for a stone bridge, yet despite this functionality, the bridge is a thing of beauty and several decorative features are evident including the central panels (below right) which despite being cast rather than wrought, still carry a scroll motif, a nod to hand forged traditional ornamentation.

Photo: David Freedman

Back to Nature

The Ultimate Source of Inspiration

My rural workshop has always been surrounded by growth. Down in the fertile flood plains of Cheshire, everything grows in abundance. Nettles weave amongst the rust pile that props up every smithy wall. Tendrils of creepers and honeysuckle scramble to climb over the roof and in the last two years, a wayward hop has actually found its way in and enjoys the relative warmth and light afforded by a skylight. It’s impossible to ignore the connection between living forms and the shapes that emerge from the heating and hammering of metal bars. For as long as iron has been shaped in this way, people have reproduced the wiggles and branches and scrolls of the natural world.

Spirals were studied by mathematicians such as Leonardo Fibonacci, curious to note their recurrence in nature, from snail shells to weather systems and even galaxies. Euclid studied the golden ratio, a supposedly perfect measure of proportion often found in nature and pleasing to the eye; further evidence that we crave a certain visual order. Scrolls in blacksmithing are usually there as a decorative way to finish a bar in a design, or to fill space and it just so happens that in most cases they are logarithmic spirals that follow the golden ration. For each blow the blacksmith makes to the back of the scroll as it curls over the anvil, the bend becomes gentler, gradually opening out. The eye tells the blacksmith what proportion works best and it seems that usually this is the same as that which grows all around them.

By looking at growth forms, regular formulae appear, but also the irregularities. This is something I enjoy exploring in my work; how symmetry and pattern flow into randomness.

The branches of a tree will grow in a formulaic pattern, but the wind will distort this order.

Foliage offers the artist an endless variety of

simple, pleasing forms. In fact they are

often ready made templates. Some

of the leaf forms I use are made

by drawing round real leaves,

others are more abstract.

Brian Russell’s wall panel

below shows the effectiveness

of leaves in metalwork design.

Note the beautiful insects and bird

incorporated into the panel, all hand forged.

Brian Russell

Creating foliage in metal can often be

a good way to highlight the beauty of

small details in nature by exploding their

size. Bex Simon’s hops, part of a larger

sculpture, are oversized with the dangling

flowers hand forged.

My design for a hawthorn sprig sculpture

was ultimately around 1.5m in height.

Right: Hops by Bex Simon, from her public art

piece for Westminster Magistrates Court

Below: Hawthorn with shield bug. My design for a piece of sculpture in galvanised steel and copper.

Bex Simon

Looking at plant forms helps the artist to

understand the patterns and also the many

irregularities in nature. I often explore

these in drawings which have then become

elements of my design for gates and

sculpture. Tendrils from climbing plants

that reach out and curl around objects have

always caught my eye and led me and many

other smiths to recreate them in steel, often

as a way of joining bars in an interesting

way or for decorative filling of gaps.

Emerging shoots such as ferns were

famously photographed by Karl Blossfeldt

whose photos are often used as a source of

inspiration for artists and blacksmiths.

Opposite Top Left: Some tiny dried out pea plant tendrils from my garden

Opposite Top Right: A vine tendril wrapping a

support wire

Opposite Bottom Left: My pea pod garden sculpture.

Pea plants have some of the best tendrils, forms and textures in the garden. Even chefs use them for decoration.

Opposite Bottom Right: A quick sketch I did of tendrils but they could be ferns or even tentacles.

Above: One of my sketches imagining growth forms as metalwork. A logarithmic spiral with a tendril and leaf-like form.

Left: A tiny fern shoot emerging in early summer in the Scottish Highlands.

Photo: Debbie Bandara

I have found that often

the best way to explore

natural forms is to collect

them and pick them apart

in the workshop. In many

cases they can be reduced

to simple shapes which

repeat, arranged in clusters

or branches. Some lend

themselves to reproduction

in metal, but for me it is

important to add an element

of fiction to adapt shapes to

the medium.

Left: Hornbeam tree flower cluster

Below: Large finial from a set of

gates I made, loosely based on hop

flowers, but largely an invention.

This early 20th century detail from

a light fitting for a snooker table is

held at the Coalbrookdale Museum

of Iron, Shropshire UK. Though I am

not fond of the now ubiquitous metal

roses on gates and railings, made from

factory stamped leaves, this hand

made example shows great skill and

observation and is a fine example of

what can be done with wrought

iron and why the material

lends itself to decorative

work at any scale.

Notice how the well observed

texture and detail in the petals make

them appear thin and soft. The accuracy

of the natural form of the rose seamlessly

gives way to more representative form where

the stems bunch into a reed-like cluster which eventually merged into a scroll that attached to the light fitting. It takes a keen understanding of design to make this transition subtle.

Photo David Freedman

David Oliveira

g

eira.or

.davidoliv

www

David Oliveira is a Portuguese artist, graduating in sculpture in Lisbon in 2008. He also studied drawing and comparative anatomy. So what does he have to do with blacksmithing? … well, nothing, but I have included him in this book for precisely that reason. I think that to really understand the relationship between 2D design and metalwork, we need to look at many different forms of art and nature, and as I hope you will see, David’s work is a very ‘pure’ form of metalwork and represents a unique approach to design.

David doesn’t begin his work on paper, but literally sketches in 3D with wire. He uses wire to represent line, using the grammar and methodology of drawing. Wire appeals to him as it has little ‘gravity’ and can move in space. It also represents a simple material that can become something magical. It has the same fluidity as a pencil line.

Above: David Oliveira. Opposite: Pelican by David Oliveira

David Oliveira’s work represents nature and uniquely demonstrates its fragility. In blacksmithing design, we use metal to represent line and even at times to sketch in 3D.

David’s sculpture shows this relationship between metal and design, taken to its extreme and for that reason, from an artist blacksmith’s point of view, I find it as mesmerising to look at as the natural forms that often provide our inspiration.

Photos: David Oliveira

I’ve chosen to show the same piece

twice here so that it’s possible to directly

see the fine line between design and

sculpture. The eye struggles not to see

the Iguana on the left as a 2D sketch on

paper, but when colour is added (far left)

using impossibly ink-like tule fabric and

the piece is viewed from another angle

against a wall, it becomes sculpture and is

recognisable as metalwork.

David has mastered the use of wire to

achieve all the subtleties of drawing,

stroke pressure, line thickness and the

use of negative space. The added colour

becomes almost optical illusion,

suggesting weight and depth.

The hare (right) demonstrates a

more stylised use of line, with

strong strokes created using

more wire together and the

lightest touch represented by a

single strand. Again, colour is

created using tule fabric, giving

power and weight by imitating

shading.

Opposite and above: Iguana

Right: Hare, David Oliveira

Stephen Rook FWCB

www.tworavensforge.co.uk

Steve has been an established blacksmith for over 32 years and is a Silver Medal holder of the Worshipful Company of Blacksmiths. His workshop is based in Balfron near Loch Lomond. It is here where Steve creates one off forged metalwork commissions, for private and public clients, using traditional and modern techniques. The method itself is simple enough - lengths of iron, heated in the forge, are brought to the anvil, where they are hammered and worked with different tools.

It is the craftsman’s energy and passion, which infuses the metal with a life and character of its own. Design and material coalesce into one harmonious whole. Steve undertakes commissions across the UK, and has recently completed projects in the city of London and Oxford.

Steve’s designs impress me with their ability to be naturalistic yet stylised. His work is design-led, leading him to construct new tooling and techniques in order to achieve the outcome that his imagination requires. This is surprisingly rare in design.

Many craftspeople begin with technique and so design is led by what they are able to produce with a set palette of tools and techniques.

In the process of looking for artists to feature

in this book, I have scanned through thousands

of images online, my eyes opening wide every

time I saw design sketches, the rougher the

better, chalk marks on dirty steel benches,

scale drawings smudged with black fingerprints

and coffee stains. These are the key to seeing

behind the finished work and into the process

that created it. Of all the images I saw, this one ( right) was possibly the most intriguing. It is a 3D former for a Juliet balcony made of papier

mache, reinforced with steel rods.

Clearly this allows the smith to both visualise the final design and also physically form the convex

shape in an even manner.

Opposite: Full scale

drawing of Grass

Themed Bench on

plywood with sample

flower stem.

Above: 3D template

for the bowed

section of a balcony.

Papier mache and

steel rods. (See the

balcony in stages

of development

overleaf).

Left: Grass Themed

Bench, Steve Rook

2012

Lake District, UK

Galvanised steel with

oak seat. Tenoned and

riveted construction.

Photos: Steve Rook

Bow Fronted Balcony, Steve Rook - City of London, 2017 (Photo Steve Rook) I love this design for its deceptive simplicity. It is the kind of design from which more and more detail emerges the more you look at it. It also achieves that design trick of having symmetry without being symmetrical. The development of this piece demonstrates the

design ingenuity and precision skill required to create it. The brief was for Steve to pick up on the industrial heritage of the building as well as echoing detail from the stone carving on adjacent buildings. The framework is based on a pair of swing cranes with their ropes.

Top Left: Design drawing. Steve’s

design sketch in this case is a

relatively simple drawing.

Top Right: The finished balcony in

situ. The sunlight catches the bow-

front of the structure, showing

its seemingly simple structure,

fiendishly difficult to achieve.

See Steve’s ingenious template

solution on the previous page.

Right: The outer framework of the

balcony lies on the workbench, the

forged leaves are all labelled, to be

fire-welded together before being

forged to shape on their branches.

The structure is tenoned together.

Photos: Steve Rook

Above Left: Concept sketch for a thistle gate.

Above Centre: The gate frame on a full sized template, using card thistles to mock up the layout.

Above Right: Thistle Gate (2010) by Stephen Rook, Galvanised steel. The construction is a combination of traditional joining methods, fire and electric welding.

Left: Prototype forged thistle detail.

Photos: Steve Rook

Steve was commissioned to design a gate for

a site near a woodland fringe. It was to be an

uncluttered design but picking up on the natural

surroundings. Steve has used card templates (top,

centre) to try out the size, detail and position of his thistle leaves. This is a technique I use myself as it offers a simple bridge between the sketch and the

final metalwork, allowing easy adjustments with

scissors and tape, but giving a realistic picture of how the final piece will look, its weight and visual impact while also providing useful patterns.

Above Left: Grass Gate full size workshop drawing Above Right: Grass Gate, Hertfordshire UK (2011) Left: Detail of leaves at the lower part of the gate.

The visual simplicity of this gate makes it blend

easily into nature. It is well observed, with

some stems bent over. It has balance without

symmetry, akin to most natural forms

Photos: Steve Rook

Brian Russell

www.littlenewshamforge.com

One of the few true artist blacksmiths working in the North East of England, Brian Russell was awarded the prestigious Silver Medal of The Worshipful Company of Blacksmiths for the excellence of his work in 1995.

Brian is passionate about the hot forging of steel and tries to incorporate as many traditional blacksmithing techniques as possible in his designs. Fire-welded and riveted joints, hot punched holes, forged leaves and other organic forms feature strongly, though his work is very much design-led. Having studied fine art at Sunderland Polytechnic, his drawings and his interest in pattern show great consideration for form and aesthetic, rather than simply being displays of technique.

Opposite: Gate design, Top Left: Fern Gate Design, Top Centre: Fern Gate 1995, Housing development, Darlington, Galvanised forged steel. Top Right: Detail showing hot forged fern fronds riveted to the frame.

Brian’s work stands out for me in its emphasis on the beauty of the finished form. Though he clearly loves to use traditional techniques, riveting, punching holes and fire-welding at the centre of his designs there is great use of symmetry and pattern together with one of the most difficult arts to master; restraint. Where lavish decoration is needed or appropriate, Brian has more than enough skill to embellish, but the fern gate above demonstrates the beauty in a relatively simple repeated pattern (not simple to make! Each leaf is fire-welded to its partner and the stem is composed of fire-welded flat bars, riveted into a spine).

When designing his work, Brian begins with detailed sketches and then proceeds to full-size templates on plywood which can often take days to draw out. This allows Brian to visualise the design at full scale and make adjustments and then to lay out elements of metalwork onto the template as they are forged, ensuring they match the scale and desired aesthetic of the finished piece.

Above Left: Detail from a wall top railing panel with cut leaves, shaped and welded to forged bar, galvanised and painted finish. The moth (one of several details on the pair of panels) gives a beautiful point of interest within this colourful design.

Above Right: Decorative panel for a housing development, Darlington.

This life-like foliage elevates ordinary brickwork to something striking and organic. Notice that scale is not realistic which enhances the design.

Right: Decorative signage for a property in Darlington. Brian asked his staff to collect leaves from nearby trees, to emulate in steel, literally using nature as a template, a technique I have often used, though in winter you need pre-prepared templates, or dried leaves!

Opposite Bottom: Pair of candlesticks in forged steel with black waxed finish (1991). Though a perfect pair, the candlesticks are quite individual.

Each manages to achieve balance while not being symmetrical which is often the case with forms in nature.

Above Left: Design for a pair of gates to partition a waste bin storage area Above Centre: The gates in construction in the workshop Above Right: ‘Rubbish Gates’, Galvanised steel, Shopping Centre, Darlington, Brian Russell (2005) When Brian sent me images labelled ‘rubbish gates’, I assumed he was being overly self critical, but it turned out that this was a rare example of the functional becoming decorative. The gates cordon off the bins for a shopping centre. With a theme of recycling, the reed-like stems grow out of the refuse. Each stem is made in two parts, the tapered round root flattening into a curled tip. Where the plate has been laser cut, the cut edges have been peened over to add depth. The plate was made with tabs that could be tenoned into the side bars which were punched to suit.

This pair of candlesticks was designed

for a commission, the client opting for a

second design. Fortunately Brian decided

to make these anyway. What I particularly

like about this design is that it can’t be

categorised. They are not modern, nor

traditional or follow any particular style

movement. They have an organic quality

and a robust feel, yet have delicate detail.

Again, the simplicity belies the great skill

involved.

All images: Brian Russell

Top Left, Centre, Right: Brian Russell’s

gate designs often comprise of

repeating patterns, though in many

cases they go beyond traditional forms

and techniques, sometimes using

organic elements such as flowers and

reeds. His mastery of shape and pattern

comes across in his drawings and his

techniques are adapted to suit his

designs rather than vice-versa.

Right: Detail from railings made for a

property in Lincoln, UK. Again, this small

detail shows great skill in execution and

blacksmithing technique without being

showy or losing anything in design

terms. It serves to link bars, fill space

decoratively and originally and add

texture and weight.

The primary function of gates and railings is to provide a barrier, and the job of the artist blacksmith is often to convert this fortification into something softer, more inviting and even beautiful. The simplest way to create gates is with vertical bars set four inches apart (this is the distance deemed a minimum so that children and animals don’t get stuck!).

Brian’s work demonstrates so many permutations of pattern that avoid vertical bars, but even in the design below where the structure is based on simple vertical bars, the repeating pattern with alternating leaves takes the eye away from the sub-structure. The lack of a solid top horizontal bar also serves to soften the overall shape.

Below: Linden leaf motif gates, Traditional construction. All images: Brian Russell.

BEX SIMON

WWW.BEXSIMON.COM

Bex Simon is an energetic and highly original artsmith producing high-end interior pieces gates, sculpture and public art. Her approach to creating metalwork is very much design led and her research takes in many styles and influences, yet her designs stand out amongst those of other smiths, with a courage to explore new forms and textures.

“I work using shape, form and balance – never really considering the technical aspect until the design is finished. This way I don’t restrict myself. I love the idea that you can take something so hard and strong, add heat to make it malleable, almost fluid, and create something beautiful. And then when it cools, and the hard properties return, the movement and life remain, encapsulated in the artwork forever.”

Opposite: Design drawings based on architectural elevations and large scale drawings and templates.

In 2015, Bex was commissioned by the Ministry of

Justice to create a public art piece on a large scale for the new Westminster Magistrates Court in central London.

The piece was to represent the history of the site, so Bex used the linear space to represent a run through time with a narrative that would begin when the site was a public house called the Yorkshire Stingo and was surrounded by countryside. As an additional layer to the piece, the linear flow also follows the journey of the river Thames.

The project spanned two and a half years, with design taking up more than half of this time. It was a collaboration with Master Blacksmith Terrance Clark with the help of several other smiths. Each phase of the design involved intense discussion both with Bex’s own team and the client, architects, planners and local authorities.

From

a

design

perspective,

the

project

is fascinating, with Bex even citing her

personal struggle with bipolar disorder

as a factor in the process.

“When I get brain sick (as I call it) I imagine it’s

like the old school telephone operators plugging the wires into the board of sockets. When my brain runs a hundred miles an hour I have to pull all those plugs out of the sockets to reconnect to reality.

When you go through something like this your brain can access an intense level of creativity you don’t normally experience”

Often, with a complex design, much of the

thinking process involves trying to

simplify ideas. It’s tempting to

throw in as much as you

can, but the key is a

strong narrative.

Right: A portion of the sculpture

showing the cast iron bridge, laid out

on a full scale template.

The image below is a photo collage of the entire 40m work. From the left, a control panel feeds out circuits into the city, representing technology and also the justice system, joining then with the underground network and on to the swimming baths that were once on the site, followed by the scales of justice representing the site’s first incarnation as a county courthouse. The textured stainless steel ‘river Thames’ then continues through the mild steel structure representing a cast iron bridge and wash houses, then flowing eventually into the era of the Yorkshire Stingo pub, in the early days of modern transport in the form of cart wheels and on into barley and scythes of rural outer London, finally ending in a row of hops. This piece encompasses a stunning array of techniques and materials, from Photo Collage: Vera Kodajova Photography www.verakodajova.com Design: Bex Simon

Left: The Thames, millennium

dome and barley, laid out on

the workshop floor.

punching, riveting, fabrication, repoussé and forgework to wood carving, copperwork, stainless steel and even acrylic inclusions. The design feels free and flowing which belies the incredible design planning involved, with many full sized templates drawn out on the workshop floor and used to create each section, and indeed a full 40m template drawn out on the wall of the building. Bex was awarded the Tonypandy Cup by the Worshipful Company of Blacksmiths for this project in 2019.

Below: Photo Collage by Vera Kodajova of the whole piece, lit by Liz Berry Bottom: Bex’s original concept sketch

Above: Daffodil Balustrade

Left: Daffodil design detail sketch

Right: Full scale layout plan onto

which the metal components

can be laid. This is important for

accurate fixings onto the steps

In the design of this balustrade, Bex has extended the thin linear leaves of the daffodil to create an informal pattern of overlapping lines. The design space is inherently asymmetric but the use of repeating pattern gives the sense of order and flow. I admire the way that the daffodils are framed with sweeping curves that manage not to lose their meaning as leaves despite their exaggerated length and shape, filling the space without being chaotic.

Top left: Design concept for a pair of gates. Top Right: Final design following input from client.

Bottom: Pair of gates, Cambridge UK. Bex’s unique use of form and texture on show

My own metalwork education has almost entirely consisted of watching others and experimenting with design and techniques. Though I can’t claim to have even half the blacksmithing technique and ability of a properly trained and apprenticed blacksmith, I have always had a keen interest in design and a realisation that my own style (like everyone elses) is unique. By compiling theses notes on design with images and ideas I hope that I will be adding to the catalogue of infinite variety that inspires artistic minds.

If there is one key notion that compiling this book has brought to light in myself and from the approaches of the other artists I have included, it is that design, whether a scribble on paper, chalk on the workbench, detailed CAD drawings or just a floating shape in the imagination, should come first. Rather than thinking what you can produce with the techniques you have mastered, think what it is you want to create and then devise the techniques you need to see it through. To my mind this will always produce better design.

It will produce a piece of art, rather than just an impressive demonstration of technique.

With thanks to Dave and Louise at Mount Pleasant Gardens, Kelsall, Cheshire www.mountpleasantgardens.co.uk

Also by David Freedman

Artist Blacksmith Sculpture: The Art of Natural Metalwork From giant insects in the woods

of Scotland to seaweed inspired

gates on the Cornish coast,

ethereal deer in the ancient

forests of England to organic

seats in historic gardens, David’s

work is shown at its best, set

within the landscape that inspires

its creation. With design notes

and sketches and stunning

photographs plus perspectives

from blacksmiths around the

world and a look into the forge,

past and present, this book

provides a unique window into an

ancient yet ever evolving craft.

AVAILABLE NOW ON

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Photo: Elma Freedman

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