Spring Bloodroot Moon
The Northern Art Crawl. Up here in the outer reaches of the urb artists live separate lives down country lanes and tucked into cul de sacs. Up in East Bethel (and south of Eden, I’d 
like to say) Kate and I visited a glass blower, Doug Becker, glass maestro–on his card–who lives on 40 of the original 80 acres he grew up on. His brother has the other 40 and is also a glass blower.
A blue collar artist, he got his start at Anoka-Ramsey Technical College, then went for a brief stint in Sweden. He had a colleague from Cambridge displaying with him and an apprentice–a guy who kept showing up–working on a piece, opening and closing the door of the oven with foot pedals like an organ, blowing occasionally on a small orange blob of molten glass, then sitting down to rest the blowing pipe on two metal arms, a place to roll the rod while cooling and shaping the glass using a cup like tool with water and on occasion a stack of wet newspaper.
A cute boxer and a water spaniel wandered around, tried to get us to play while we ate sausage from the deli tray and watched. We left, walking past his sculptural glass flowers planted, he said, where he puts his canna lilies. The glass flowers light up.
His bass boat sat in the big garage attached to a smallish house.
Next was a domestic quality potter, a good thing for us, since we need to replace some bowls and platters. His work has a journeyman’s quality, good enough for everyday use. A friend of his turned wood in the garage, showing a wide array of bowls, mostly bowls. Some well done and interesting, others finished in a hurry, like the end of Missing. Need some work.
Perhaps the most intriguing place we visited was a blacksmith’s, Daniel Kretchmar’s 
Irontree Works. His items on display were so-so, but I asked a question, had he ever made an ax? This got the engineer cum teacher cum blacksmith going on iron, steel, carbon steel, quenching and 1800 degrees, orange where things happen. You can tell, he said, if a piece you’re working is at 1800 degrees by holding a magnet to it. If the magnet doesn’t work, you’re at the right heat.
We also discussed, rather he discussed, iron blooms, pig iron, wrought iron–which is not made anymore and he gets his supply from demolished buildings–a great metal to work, and the making of his 81 fold kitchen knife with a random wave pattern reminiscent of the oft folded Japanese katana. He teaches blacksmithing on Monday nights and I might go. This craft has its adherents on Tailte.
The next to last stop was another glass blower, Jeff Sorensen. He had been at it “37 or 38 
years” and the fluidity with which he handled the pipe, at one point twirling it like a drum major’s baton to cool the work in progress, showed him a master of his craft. His work displayed that skill as well. We talked a bit about slowing down, about letting go of things we don’t need. “Lots of things!”
I would buy from any of these folks. Kate suggested we start using local artists as sources for gifts. A good idea. It’s another part of the art after the MIA process I’m still noodling.
The last stop of the day. They had pamphlets about the Promise of Heaven, sappy water colors and pottery with a great glaze, used over and over again in pots of similar construction but different sizes. Didn’t stay long.
Back to the homestead and a nap.
