pipes, carvers, prices, patooey
The pipe world seems to me unique in some ways.
The pipe world has a class system of sorts, which is not something I've observed in other fields. Categories of makers. The elite, the well-known, the known, the unknown, it goes on and on. Each seems supposed to have its own characteristics and its own prices.
I sometimes wonder about things, I tend to be that way. It's not that tough to take a pipe that doesn't cost much and tune its internals to make it smoke well... ream it out a little here, reshape a little there, and voila you have a $35 pipe that smokes like a champ. Well, except for the taste, the wood determines that unless you want to accept the pain of ignoring the taste until the pipe is "broken in" (which sometimes I think means that your tastebuds have given up and become resigned to the pipe). I know there are others who are capable of doing that, but I haven't seen any hand-tuned Grabows (for example) being offered. I guess there's no profit in the work.
High-end pipes are a lot of work. It's one thing to slap some stain on a rusticated pipe, another thing to stain a smooth pipe so it'll look decent, and something entirely different to stain a beautiful piece of wood so that every filament of the grain is clearly visible under magnification.
In earlier times, I dreaded making smooth pipes. There seemed so much danger of making a tiny mistake that would ruin the hours put into the pipe. In later work, it seemed that all the engineering and shaping was just prep-work for the fun stuff, staining and finishing. Not that I'm some finishing guru, but I really enjoy seeing the detailed patterns in the grain emerge as I bring it through the finishing process. Every time I see the details come out, it either confirms something I already know about briar grain, or it teaches me something new. The time I spend finishing a smooth pipe is time that takes me away from life's cares, takes me to a world that is even smaller than my workshop, a world that consists of the pipe and a few feet around it.
For artisan carvers, selling pipes seems to be a big deal. Building a following seems to be a big deal. I don't understand it all. I may not understand any of it. It doesn't matter how many times you tell people that your work is priced on the low end, that doesn't change what the numbers on the pricetag are. It doesn't change what the pipe is.
From time to time I've thought about things. Sometimes I think the best thing I could do would be to change my pipe guarantee to one that says "take your chances" and jack the prices to the moon, so that only people who have dropped a $1000 bill on the ground and have to make a conscious decision about whether it is worth the trouble of bending over to pick it up can buy them... basically to put them out of the reach of the working man who would have to save up for them. When you have to save up for something, disappointment really hurts, and that's not someplace that I want anyone to go. Buy it with pocket change or move along, that seems safer for everybody concerned.
Sometimes I think none of it will ever be a real thing to do anything about, it seems like this house building project is going to kill me off before I ever have a chance to get back into my workshop.
I'm very lucky that I get to make so few decisions in this life.
The pipe world has a class system of sorts, which is not something I've observed in other fields. Categories of makers. The elite, the well-known, the known, the unknown, it goes on and on. Each seems supposed to have its own characteristics and its own prices.
I sometimes wonder about things, I tend to be that way. It's not that tough to take a pipe that doesn't cost much and tune its internals to make it smoke well... ream it out a little here, reshape a little there, and voila you have a $35 pipe that smokes like a champ. Well, except for the taste, the wood determines that unless you want to accept the pain of ignoring the taste until the pipe is "broken in" (which sometimes I think means that your tastebuds have given up and become resigned to the pipe). I know there are others who are capable of doing that, but I haven't seen any hand-tuned Grabows (for example) being offered. I guess there's no profit in the work.
High-end pipes are a lot of work. It's one thing to slap some stain on a rusticated pipe, another thing to stain a smooth pipe so it'll look decent, and something entirely different to stain a beautiful piece of wood so that every filament of the grain is clearly visible under magnification.
In earlier times, I dreaded making smooth pipes. There seemed so much danger of making a tiny mistake that would ruin the hours put into the pipe. In later work, it seemed that all the engineering and shaping was just prep-work for the fun stuff, staining and finishing. Not that I'm some finishing guru, but I really enjoy seeing the detailed patterns in the grain emerge as I bring it through the finishing process. Every time I see the details come out, it either confirms something I already know about briar grain, or it teaches me something new. The time I spend finishing a smooth pipe is time that takes me away from life's cares, takes me to a world that is even smaller than my workshop, a world that consists of the pipe and a few feet around it.
For artisan carvers, selling pipes seems to be a big deal. Building a following seems to be a big deal. I don't understand it all. I may not understand any of it. It doesn't matter how many times you tell people that your work is priced on the low end, that doesn't change what the numbers on the pricetag are. It doesn't change what the pipe is.
From time to time I've thought about things. Sometimes I think the best thing I could do would be to change my pipe guarantee to one that says "take your chances" and jack the prices to the moon, so that only people who have dropped a $1000 bill on the ground and have to make a conscious decision about whether it is worth the trouble of bending over to pick it up can buy them... basically to put them out of the reach of the working man who would have to save up for them. When you have to save up for something, disappointment really hurts, and that's not someplace that I want anyone to go. Buy it with pocket change or move along, that seems safer for everybody concerned.
Sometimes I think none of it will ever be a real thing to do anything about, it seems like this house building project is going to kill me off before I ever have a chance to get back into my workshop.
I'm very lucky that I get to make so few decisions in this life.
posted by random at 5:13 AM
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