So why chose to pound iron? Why choose to stand in front of a 2000 
degree fire in July? Why choose to make my hands black, my clothes 
dirty? And why, in God’s name, would anyone choose a profession 
where you get burned every day?

I think these choices are often personal, but I think too, that they 
are rooted in our deep ancestral paths having to do with iron in our 
blood and iron in the fabric of the earth. For me it is all of that 
and more. My great, great grandfather was a blacksmith and carriage 
maker; my great grandfather was an engineer in the Navy and always 
tinkering with parts that had to be newly worked to keep the ships 
sailing; my grandfather likewise was an engineer and well knew his 
way around metal. And now in my generation, both my sister and I have 
been drawn to the manipulation of metal. So for me, ironwork is in my 
blood and also in my genes. And all the time I thought I had a choice!

Using the four sacred elements of earth (iron), fire, air and water 
daily, I am not sure how much closer I could get to the essence of 
life. I walk from my house with my faithful Tye, around the pond, 
past the salt lick for deer, over the first of two small bridges, 
past the daffodils in the spring, past the old wall that reproaches 
me daily for not making it whole again, and up to the forge. On a 
good day I throw open the doors and let the sunshine flood the space.


Still, today, after 35 years of forging, I still get the excitement 
of a new piece … of imagining it, of designing it, of creating it. 
Every day I get to work as an artist, an engineer, a coal carrier, an 
accountant, a teacher. Every day I get to work variously with my 
head, my heart and my hands. What’s not to love? The work continues 
to give me life.