#whitesmith

blacksmith & mastersmith

Woohoo! All finished and packed up for mailing... forgot to take a photo of it actually on the black cotton cord, but here's the project in reverse order.

Final version:

The texture was achieved via three methods; sculpting it right into the clay master (some detail got lost in sculpting both sides); using a dremel with a drill bit to scour some of the 'knapped' spots deeper; and finally, after it was cast and sanded up, I took it to a suitable anvil (in other words the vulcanizer machine that weights a gagillion pounds) and applied percussive creativity.

Aka: I smacked the shit out of it with a hammer. Artfully. XD

And somehow, I managed *not* to bust the loop or dent it too badly. I made three casts I deemed fit enough to take to the finishing stages; I ended up only needing to work one of them over and it was this one :D (the other two got melted right back into the smelter)

(more below the cut)

I know you’ve probably lost sleep wondering about this: We all know what a “blacksmith” is and what he (or she) does, but is there such a thing as a “whitesmith?” 

Well, of course there is! “Whitesmith” is the Word of the Day. 

When we think of a blacksmith, we imagine a muscular guy heating up an iron bar until it glows red-hot, then pounding it into shape with a hammer and anvil. A blacksmith works with black iron; a whitesmith works with “white iron,” otherwise known as “tin.” In fact, another name for whitesmith is “tinsmith,” although tin is so soft that it typically has to be alloyed with other metals, like copper (to make bronze) or copper plus antimony or lead (to make pewter). 

While the blacksmith usually (but not exclusively) works with hot metal, a whitesmith usually (but not exclusively) works with cold metal and handles more delicate finishing and polishing work. 

The original whitesmith might make pie tins, or cookie cutters, or candlesticks, or coffee pots, or cooking pans. And the tinsmith (whitesmith) was also a Mr. Fixit, which gave us the word “tinker” – originally used to describe someone who made a living by traveling from place to place repairing household utensils and cookware. 

The tinker/tinsmith/whitesmith is also the source of the popular phrase (well, it was popular once upon a time. I still use it), “I don’t give a tinker’s damn.” As in, “I don’t give a tinker’s damn about your piddly-ass problems.” 

There are a couple of theories about the origin of a “tinker’s damn” (or just “dam”), meaning something insignificant or worthless. The most popular one is that the tinker was widely known as a fellow who used salty language while he was working; that is, he cussed a lot…so much that his curses became pretty insignificant. The earliest references to “a tinker’s (or tinkler’s) curse” or a “tinker’s cuss” date back to the 1820’s. 

There’s another theory, however, that dates to the 1870’s and continues to hang around. When a tinker set out to fix a hole in a pot or pan, he needed to set up a small barrier or “dam” to keep the solder from leaking out. The “tinker’s dam” could be a piece of bread dough or clay or whatever was handy to plug the hole. The melted solder was applied, and when the hole was completely covered and the solder cooled, the dough or clay or what-have-you was scraped away and the solder was filed down until the surface of the pot or pan was smooth and hole-free.