Cutting into Copper

Some of you may remember that one of the things I loved most about my time in Evanston was its proximity to the lake shore. I became all but obsessed with making it to the beach in time for sunrise every day and was rewarded by witnessing a panoply of the most stunning vistas imaginable. Coming from Salt Lake City--a valley edged in by mountains--I wasn't used to seeing the sun break above a flat horizon. From this vantage, sunlight travels through a substantial amount of atmosphere and is scattered into displays of brilliant color that often change from minute to minute...the deepest reds, purples, and yellows thickening one moment and then vanishing the next. 

Each morning brought new surprises... 

...especially as temperatures dropped and the water began to freeze. Though one of my biggest worries before moving to the Windy City was its legendarily harsh winter, the excitement of observing lake ice actually made me jump up and down whenever sub-zero temperatures were in the forecast...

Don't worry, there is a reason for my nostalgic indulgence.

About a month ago Rob and I were wandering through the Ginko Gallery, a local art shop and studio, and I was startled to see among a stack of random art supplies...a whole sheet of bright new COPPER! I hadn't found an opportunity to exercise my engraving muscles in quite some time, and visions of ornately scrolling designs instantly began sparking through my imagination. I asked the cashier whether this was something they regularly stocked, but apparently it was kind of a one off.

My lucky day!!!

We bought it right away. 

The 6 x 12 inch sheet, prepared and cut by Chicago based K&S Engineering, sat on my desk for a few weeks as I allowed ideas to bubble and churn. A concrete vision finally took shape for me this morning, and I spent some time today experimenting with materials in preparation for the real thing.

At the very least I first had to make sure I could still handle a graver. There is no eraser for engraving. Every line is as permanent as a tattoo. It would be so PERFECT if I started in on my masterpiece and instead just scratched the whole thing up. Fortunately, I still had an old battered piece of copper I'd picked up from a machine shop at NU...perfect for practicing! Then I gathered up my sharpies (yep, that's right...even on the copper), scrounged around for some old nail polish (I know...this is getting a little ridiculous...and by the way what am I doing with such a crazy shade of RED in my collection...I'll just let you wonder:), and finally started in.

My creative mood was helped along by a playlist of "drawing music" that included Dawn of Midi's new release "Dysnomia," and LaMonte Young's "Well Tuned Piano."  I'd only made it through the first two and a half hours of the second selection when my project was complete.

I haven't decided on a name for it yet, but the scene clearly references my morning trips to Lake Michigan's western shore. I'm planning on elaborating upon this idea in the future, and might decide on a title for the series then.

Here are some up close views. One thing I've always loved about engraving is how it shimmers with every change of light...

To help preserve the copper's ruddy sheen, I lacquered over the top of the whole thing with two coats of clear polish. I eventually hope to mount the piece, but at the moment its dimensions are 6 x 12 inches.

Starry Night

I was in a creative mood today and got to thinking about engraving again. I had a blank brass oval laying around collecting dust so I decided to pull out my tools and see what I could come up with.

I'd been thinking for a while about using many lines created by different graver sizes side by side--winding around almost on top of one another to create a somewhat impressionistic effect. Specifically, I wanted to see how close I could get to make an engraving that could mimic in spirit the rich, intense, and animated brush strokes of Vincent Van Gogh.

And since one should always have a telescope close at hand on a clear starry night, I thought I'd add my own little astronomical flare to the original scene...

Here is the finished plate. A little rough around the edges maybe--and certainly nothing more than a shadow of the original masterpiece--but hopefully fun none the less.

A True Artist

I got a blog comment from Jason DuMars today! After my October 2010 entry entitled Finely Decorated Copper Weights he said, "Nice work Kelly! Keep up the art. There are so few of us left in the world."

Wow!

This is shocking and cool because Jason DuMars is legendary in the world of instrument engraving (to see his website, click on his name in the first paragraph). While I was bungling through the first few stages of learning the craft at Cannonball, I looked at the quality and beauty of his work as as a distant ideal for what is possible in the medium. I can't tell you how many times Cannonball dealers or people at trade shows would ask me "Have you seen Jason DuMars' engravings?" One day, a repair tech at Summerhays music brought by a silver alto sax that had been decorated by DuMars so I could see his work up close. It was gorgeously detailed and every line was executed with easy perfection...absolutely luscious. It is a fine compliment indeed to be noticed by such an artist. I'm even more bummed now that my current situation hasn't allowed much continuation in my own work. Maybe this little boost of morale will get the creative ball rolling for me again.

We've got more snow today. Not a blizzard really, just a lot of big fluffy snow-globe-esque flakes dancing through the air. It sure is pretty, but I hope it doesn't further complicate the already bothersome parking conditions.

Here's your "sunrise" picture...

The SWE recording yesterday went quite well. It was a long and, at times, frustratingly tedious process, but I am really excited to hear the final product--which I think will be spectacular! (especially if they're able to edit out the spot where I accidentally sent my mute crashing to the floor right in the middle of a delicate flute/clarinet soli...ugh!) Schwantner's And the Mountains Rising Nowhere (on which I don't play) is being recorded today, and then our next concert's worth of music will make up the rest of what goes on the CD. When the process is complete the recordings will be released on Summit records--I'll certainly keep you posted with final details when I know them.

Som'more copper engraving

Finely Decorated Copper Weights

I've been thinking lately that I want to try to get back into doing some engraving. If I keep my "chops" up it might prove to be a beneficial source of income on the side...plus, I just plain enjoy it so much that it would really be a shame to let my talent slip away.

The other day as I was bumming around on the NU website I noticed that there is an instrumentation shop where many task-specific gadgets can be made for labs and other research needs, and where students and faculty can pay to use big scary tools like band saws. "I wonder if they might have some scrap metal hanging around." I thought..."maybe some extra copper or brass that I could use to practice engraving." I know these metals are quite pricey, but of course it never hurts to ask. In the very least I figured they might be able to tell me where I could purchase sheets of copper on my own. I sent an email to the shop's operator and sure enough, he said he had a couple pieces of copper laying around that he'd be happy to give me.

So on Friday after brass choir rehearsal I hopped one of NU's free intercampus shuttles for a ride into downtown Chicago. NU's Chicago campus is where many of the medical school's buildings can be found and I wandered the hallways of one of them searching for the instrumentation shop. I passed through hallways of imposing labs with pictures of brain scans and diagrams of neurons and tumors plastered to the hospital-white walls. I really felt like I was somewhere I shouldn't have been.

Finally I found the shop. It was much smaller than I had imagined and was completely filled with all sorts of scary looking equipment squeezed into a tiny room about the size of my current apartment. I knocked shyly and a man came to the door. After I explained who I was he reached over to a table at the back of the room and handed me two heavy blocks of solid copper--about 12 x 3 x 1 and at least a good 10 pounds each. They were filthy...covered in adhesive residue, tarnished to a dull greenish brown, and significantly scratched up. I thanked him for his generosity and headed back to catch the shuttle back to Evanston...worried that I might appear a little suspicious while awkwardly carrying around such odd cargo.

When I got home I tried polishing up one of the blocks. The tarnish came off fairly well and an initial polishing revealed a brilliant rose-colored surface hiding beneath all the grime, but I decided I'd need to do some serious surface buffing and get rid of as many of the scratches as possible before I could attempt to engrave anything. I went and picked up some fine sand paper and steel wool from Home Depot and then got right back into the business of improving the quality of my canvases. The final result wasn't pristine, but I was pleased enough and eager to dig in!

I started with a really classic design. The copper cut like butter and I was invigorated by the feel of the metal beneath my gravers and the brilliant shine left behind in the lines...

Today I thought I'd try engraving a snake on the other side of the block I'd worked on the previous night. I had ideas about how to make the detail of reptilian scales really shimmer...and my plans ended up working quite well! If you handle the block under a bright light, the shine from the scales gleams in dynamic circular patterns...the movement is mesmerizing...

My plan is to show these to my fellow students here and hope the word starts to gets around that my services as an engraver are available...if anyone is interested that is. I know it can be scary to imagine one's multi-thousand dollar instrument going under the knife, but I'm hoping to continue my practice and be sure enough in my technique that I can convince people that they can trust their horns in my hands.

An Ending

I just finished my last day at Cannonball...just engraved my final Cannonball saxophone...Wow! For the record, it was a Gerald Albright straight soprano serial# 144448 (good number eh Rob?).

A chapter of my life has come to an end and I'll admit that as I walked through the warehouse one final time its particular smell of Taiwan, air conditioning, and instrument dander evoked in me faint hints of memory. My time at Cannonball hadn't always been the trial it became for me these last couple of years. There were many good times as well and some part of me will always miss those. Well, onward and upward as they say. Cheers!

Approaching the End

Tonight I spent some time working at Cannonball and finished the very last limited-edition horn currently in stock. There will be another shipment arriving in a couple weeks that will include more instruments in each series, so it's not truly the end of anything overall, but it was sort of a goal for me to put my work on as many limited-edition saxophones as I could before I left. For the next few days I'll just be engraving more of our non-limited horns: the Pete Christlieb and Gerald Albright Signature models (like the Gerald Albright Soprano pictured below--I designed all the laser engraving you see on this as well).

Maybe this is just the fantasy of a typically big-headed trumpet player, but I've sometimes wondered if someday these horns we've engraved might mean something to collectors...like maybe people will seek out horns that specific individuals have worked on...maybe the small part (bumps and all) I've played in saxophone-manufacturing history will be noted by those who seek out unique "vintage" instruments...

...just another thought that keeps me always trying to do my best...

Feeling Better

Wow...check out how beautiful my mountain is tonight!

I suppose I've been feeling a bit better today.

I've begun my search for an Evanston apartment in earnest and am getting more excited about the move and what's in store for me at Northwestern.

I only have one week of work left (my last day is June 30th) and though I still have to check myself once in a while about my feelings towards Cannonball, for the most part I believe I've cleared my brain of concern about leaving and how the engraving will be carried on after I go.

I have an odd sort of relationship with my art in that I view everything I produce as my own offspring. Because of this, I tend to be quite particular and protective towards it. One of the biggest struggles for me in regards to the engraving at Cannonball has been patiently accepting and appreciating the work my coworkers have done with it as well. Ever since others began learning the craft alongside me, I've been hyper-concerned about whether or not everyone else takes it as seriously as I do. I'm admittedly pretty anal about certain things and when I've noticed even slight lapses in attention to detail it's sometimes been difficult for me to devise a tactful way to suggest any needed improvements.

Though engraving at Cannonball requires hundreds of horns to be etched with the same design, each saxophone must be a work of art on its own. It may feel like a simple and tedious assembly-line job, but it can't be. Every horn we send out the door will eventually translate someone's individual voice into music, and I want to know that the aesthetics of the horn somehow match the purity of its purpose. Every saxophone should be one a player could fall instantly in love with--most importantly for its sound, but for its beauty as well.

Anyway..I'm moving on...(sigh)...and I am confident that the engravers at Cannonball will do just fine without me and continue to dress up some beautiful saxophones!

A Very Large Tattoo

Look what I did yesterday!


Yes, that is a tuba, and though the words and the head of "Neptune" in the middle were already on the horn, all the other frills and lines you see are mine. Mike McCawley, tubist extraordinaire with the Ballet West Orchestra, was brave enough to sit and watch as I scratched up the bell of his beloved instrument. The tuba itself is only seven years old (is it cruel to tattoo a child?) and had been through 2 previous owners (one who played with the President's Own Marine Band) before Mike picked it up.

Before I made my first cut I drew the design on the horn using washable marker and paced around the enormous instrument trying to find a good starting point. Mike was standing over the table when I made the opening slice and was likely a bit relieved (as was I) to see that I hadn't slipped.

That initial cut is always the tough one. From it I know how the hardness, texture, and feel of the lacquer and metal will influence the rest of my engraving...and every horn is a bit different. Even among the Cannonball instruments--with which you'd think I'd have complete familiarity--every individual horn has a unique feel. With some, after the first cut I know the next two hours will be Hell, and with others, that cut is accompanied by a sigh of relief as I know it will be smooth sailing from there on out.

Mike's horn behaved beautifully and though I struggled at times to find good angles from which to approach my lines, I enjoyed this engraving from start to finish. Mike had set up a low table in his garage and left the outside door open. There was a fresh breeze blowing in and I could hear the pattering of rain on the roof: one of my favorite sounds. The setting was quite comfortable and brought to my imagination a possible future engraving workshop of my own.

Mike wandered in and out watching me work. He told me that before he'd majored in music, he'd studied art--specifically sculpture. This was a surprise to me and at first I was a little intimidated to have another artist scrutinizing my work, but Mike is about as amiable a guy as you can imagine and I eventually stopped worrying. Maybe his artistic past was the only reason I was there in the first place...what else would have given him an open enough mind to watch his several-thousand-dollar musical instrument carved up in front of his eyes?!

Everyone knows that tubas are large, but I don't think I'd realized just how immense they are until I'd done this engraving yesterday. I may risk getting myself into trouble by saying this, but the tuba, like the cello or the string bass, is a truly embraceable instrument. As I worked, I steadied the horn and found my balance by holding the tubing or the bell, always making sure I didn't press too hard and push the horn off the edge of the thin table. The curves of the tuba are wide and much more relaxing to my hand than a saxophone. Though I occasionally had to contort myself to reach an effective cutting angle over such a large instrument, it was pleasant to be able to open my frame as I worked. Compare that to crouching low and tight over a soprano saxophone with my hand clenched uncomfortably around its spindly little neck and you might be able to appreciate what I'm saying.

I finished the job in about 2 hours and was quite pleased with the result. I think the new engraving ended up blending nicely with the previous design: as the horn's title is "Neptune", my idea was to create the impression of waves of water being blown by the figurehead in the middle of the bell. Mike seemed thoroughly satisfied as well. He wanted to make sure I got plenty of pictures and couldn't wait to take the horn to his next gig (which happens to be with a classic English style brass band...maybe I'll get some more business outa this!!) and show off his newly decorated instrument.

Downbeat

This morning at Cannonball I engraved three "Vintage" straight soprano saxophones. These, along with a 4th I had engraved earlier, are slated to go to a reviewer with Downbeat Magazine who'll write an article about this new addition to the Cannonball line for an upcoming issue. I'll admit, I'm really proud of the engraving I did on these horns and am hoping that I (or just the engraving itself I guess) get a brief mention. Maybe it will say something like, "Each saxophone features luxuriously spectacular hand engraving by the amazing and multi-talented Kelly Ricks". Well, ok, I suppose that might be asking a bit much...especially considering I'll be leaving the company at the end of the month. Still, I'll be looking forward to reading the article and seeing if my work gets a little nod.

Minor Consideration

This morning after work I drove down to Springville to engrave my friend Lisa's cornet. The horn was in pristine condition when she bought it used from Tony Dilorenzo, but since then it had picked up some serious scratching on the bell. She said that the origin of the scratches was a mystery, but hoped I'd be able to cover them up with engraving.

Weeks ago when she talked to me about doing this, she'd asked me to come up with a really funky abstract design. This got me excited! I was being allowed artistic free reign to produce something truly unique. Unfortunately, I've been going through something of a creative dry spell (stress? work overload? who knows...) and struggled unsuccessfully to create a design. Finally I asked Lisa to give me some ideas and she sent me the logo for her band Minor Consideration: a central flower-like trumpet flanked on either side by guitars which peel away from the horn like leaves. I had to "psychadelify" the logo in order to make it appropriate for the engraving technique that I use, but Lisa really loved my final version and we set up a time for me to come by.

Lisa was at work when I got to her house, but she'd left me a key and had towels left out on the table for me to use. I was nervous to start cutting. One could make the argument that an engraving is even more permanent than a tattoo, so what would I do if I slipped and totally ruined her horn? Finally I began the first line with no trouble and everything went smoothly from there.

I used a washable marker to draw the design on the bell and then traced over the lines with the various tools I brought. It really is amazing how dimensional flat line engravings can appear if the right combination of graver sizes and textures is used. I feel like the type of art I've done all my life has prepared me perfectly for instrument engraving. The technique fits my style like a glove and I am grateful to Cannonball for the opportunity they provided me to learn this unusual skill.

Lisa took a break from work and came over for a few minutes to snap some pictures and watch the process. She seemed to love what I was doing, and I must say, I'm pleased with the result myself. I don't know if she's been back home since I finished the horn, but I'm excited to hear her reaction.

In a few minutes I'm headed out the door to meet Patrick for our drive down to Bryce Canyon. The weather up here is pretty stinky, but I'm hoping there may be some clearer skies down south.

Quotidian

Last week I was listening to the radio and was introduced to the word "quotidian". It was surprising to me that such a fancy sounding word meant pretty much the opposite of anything out of the ordinary. Routine, normalcy, the mundane--even boring--details of everyday life: these are quotidian. I've had people tell me they think I have an exciting life and I guess I do go out for a spontaneous adventure now and then, but for the most part my days are pretty routine.

Where my routine differs from others' is maybe what surprises them. For whatever reason, I have always been a morning person and, especially lately, I've been living that in the extreme. My day begins when my alarm goes off at 3:47 am (yes, I intentionally avoid 5s and 0s when I set my alarm--don't ask why) and shift sleepily into work mode. I'm out the door in 20 minutes and at work by 4:30 in order to enjoy the next 3 1/2 hours of peace solitude that are the conditions under which I work best.

My current job, engraving saxophones and testing trumpets at Cannonball Musical instruments, takes a good deal of concentration. While working over the bell of a sax with a sharp metal tool intentionally scratching the surface in what eventually reveals itself as an intricate design, I am much more at ease not having to experience the hubub of a busy workplace right outside my door. I usually turn on the radio, classical 89.1 for music or KUER for news depending on my mood, and cocoon myself into the rhythm of my gravers zig zagging across the curved metal surfaces of the instruments. It was my request to keep such odd hours and though I have had a few issues with getting enough sleep, in general this schedule is, for me, ideal.

I leave the office every day just before 8:00 and head over to my Mom's house where I'm free to practice my trumpet without having to disturb neighbors or use a stuffy practice mute. After checking email and chit chatting with Mom for a half hour or so I hit the woodshed.

I'm pretty particular about my practicing and monitor my time on and off the horn in a way that some would describe as excessively anal. I plan out my practice session before hand--what techniques I'll address, what music I have to polish up for an upcoming gig, and how much time I can afford to keep the horn on my face that particular morning.

I do this for a couple of reasons. It is amazing how much more I accomplish when I address specific techniques rather than just going through a tired daily routine that tries to hit all the bases. If I target three or four issues per practice session, spend a specific amount of time devoted to each item (typically 10 minutes), and follow each segment by a required amount of rest (3 or more minutes--usually more), my practice efficiency goes WAY up. I improve much more quickly and preserve my chops much better overall compared to the more loose and general way I used to practice. The older I get, the more this proves to be a career saver. So, as ridiculous as it may appear to anyone else, I sit in my Mom's living room every day looking out over the valley to the west and, with a stopwatch and notebook, meticulously plan out and time my noise making.

Another habit I've gotten into is during each short rest period I'll get up and do some little chore around the house...take out the trash, start dishes, do laundry, play with the dogs... This helps pass the time and makes me feel less guilty about using someone else's house as a practice room, and shamelessly mooching some food out of the fridge for lunch.

After practicing I'll either take the dogs for a walk or head out for the gym. Now that the weather's been nice, the dog walking usually wins out. It's amazing to see how Rusty (my parent's Jack Russell) has totally figured out my routine. I'm convinced that he knows how my practice intervals are timed because whenever I finish a segment, he runs right into the living room and looks at me with head cocked inquiring, "so are you going to play with me now?" I've taught him the meaning of the phrase "I have to practice" and whenever I respond to his query with that phrase, he turns around and skulks out of the room until the next break. He hates the sound of my trumpet! However, George (the Chihuahua) doesn't seem to mind my horn at all and usually comes into the room while I'm practicing and curls up for a nap in my jacket while I work.

Rusty can also tell when I've finished my whole session and start my warm down. At that point he'll come in almost bursting at the seams and ask, "Ok, are we going for a walk now?" He's usually right on the money and I take him out for 3 or 4 miles first, then come home and take he and George (who doesn't seem to have the same desire to go for long walks) for a lap around the block. They're sweet puppies and I'm sure going to miss them when I take off in the fall.

By the time I make it through this routine it's usually about noon and I have the rest of the day to fill how I please (which these days usually includes a substantial nap!). I guess I thrive on structure and it makes me feel a ton better when I've been productive right off the bat. Getting that good start is everything.