Portland Blacksmiths: Old World Style Thriving in Artisan Economy

Handmade, painstakingly crafted and authentic small-batch goods are not just for Portland hipsters anymore, according to a recent article in Details: "Scratch the surface of any artisanal process...and you'll find expertise, discriminating selection of materials, time-consuming craftsmanship. The return of the artisanal is like a return to the gold standard, the durable value of the well-made thing."

With our appreciation, production and consumption of traditionally crafted goods, it's no surprise that Portland is gaining recognition for its artisan economy. According to the publisher of the upcoming Brew to Bikes: Portland's Artisan Economy, the book "positions Portland as a hub of artisan ingenuity worthy of admiration."

Meet five local blacksmiths who are forging their place in Portland's artisan economy—and thriving.

Steve Winney, Yardley Forge

“I'd rather never leave my shop,” says local blacksmith Steve Winney of Yardley Forge. It's easy to see why: neat and well-lit, the shop's a stone's throw from his kitchen door, nestled among raspberry bushes, kiwi vines, and obscenely tall tomato plants in his backyard garden in Mt. Scott-Arleta.

He's only half-joking, of course. For traditional blacksmiths, busy is best and diversification is key. On Last Thursdays in the Alberta Arts district, you can find him at Studio 16, showing off his creative sculptural pieces. And when he's not working on custom jobs for local homeowners, he's in Washington state, doing structural steel work for a bridge project.

As business picks up for metalworkers affected by the recession-fueled slump in the construction industry, traditional blacksmiths are also seeing signs of recovery. While the quality craftsmanship of hand-forged railings and hardware tends to translate to a higher price tag, clients seem increasingly willing to spend more for the long-term appeal and collaborative design process of custom artisan ironwork.

“There aren't many people who can do this kind of work,” he says. “Fabricators can do railings, but it's not going to be the same. Some things are only possible through forging.”

“And it's fun!” he continues, unrolling the design for a current project: an art-deco style handrail with an intricate penny and scroll pattern. A goofy optimism enters his voice as he waxes enthusiastic about the chance to do “a whole kabungle” of the ornate iron curves. Clearly, after 12 years in the trade, his passion for the craft remains undissipated.

With its village-like neighborhoods and popular support for local and traditional arts, Portland seems a natural environment for the local smith.

“My next door neighbor is a skateboard maker—I built his press system,” he says. “This is craft alley. Everyone's working out of their garages.”

Lyle Poulin, Artemisia Atelier

The garage can be an auspicious place to start a business (think HP and Apple.) For blacksmith and jeweler Lyle Poulin, it's just business as usual.

“The garage was never called the garage growing up,” he says of his family's business, Poulin Steel Fabrication, in Truckee, California. He and his brothers began welding and forging in the shop at a young age. “Everyone had something to do. Everyone had to work."

Last year, the family upgraded to a larger shop downstairs, and his mom was finally able to park her car in the garage. Lyle moved to the Richmond neighborhood in Southeast Portland, where he has his own shop for the first time, in—where else?—the garage.

“This is more space than I've ever had to myself,” he says of the roughly 15 x 15 foot space. “My work has a place here, and I can be my own foreman. If it's a mess, it's nobody's fault but my own."

The downside is having fewer resources to do the larger projects he's used to—mirror frames, railings, fireplace screens. He now focuses primarily on smaller items, which he sells at street fairs, local retailers (Clawhammer & Clothespin in Richmond; Flora in Downtown) and online. His hand-forged bottle openers, riveted bracelets and necklaces, and intricate earrings, brooches, and rings, juxtapose the natural and organic with the sharp edges of industrial design.

He also makes custom knives, forging the blades from solid bar stock or damascus-- a process of layering, folding, and welding steel together to form a wood-grain pattern. The same technique with nonferrous metals (copper & brass) yields a material called Mokume Gane, a traditional Japanese material he blends into his knives and jewelry. Owing to the randomness of the process, none of the pieces are ever the same.

“It's that wildness and mystery that really drew me in,” he says of his formation as a metal artist. “Even if I've made the same piece of jewelry a hundred times, it's still a mystery, and that's what keeps me interested.”

Arnon Kartmazov, Bridgetown Forge

It's becoming a familiar refrain among these talented artists hiding in workshops all over the city: “What it comes down to is I want to be in my shop, making stuff,” says Arnon Kartmazov. For Kartmazov, this means a return to the focused, meditative work of custom ironwork and functional art.

Formerly one half of K & K forge, which specialized in architectural blacksmithing, Kartmazov is looking forward to his new solo venture, which focuses on custom hardware, such as door pulls, gate latches, and hooks; custom kitchenware; Japanese style knives; and sculptural work. The name, Bridgetown Forge, reflects his intention to ground himself firmly in his new home.

“I'm not going to move anymore. I've moved all my life,” he says. Born in Siberia and educated in Japan and Israel, Kartmazov now makes his home with his wife and daughter in the developing neighborhood of Montavilla. He's home early enough every night to read a bedtime story to his daughter.

“I like the local aspect of things. Like Country Cat, the restaurant that ordered custom hardware and a kitchen knife from me,” he says. “They do everything local and in season. I wanted to demonstrate the quality of the knife, so I said, 'get me a tomato.' The chef said, 'I don't have a tomato. It's not in season!'”

Kartmazov will also offer classes at Bridgetown forge, in cooperation with fellow smith and friend Ken Marmastine, who plans to open a school in the style of Kartmazov's teacher, the famous Israeli blacksmith Uri Hofi. The small, hands-on classes center around individual teaching stations with everything pre-cut and set up. Students work over a weekend to create something they can take home and use. Kartmazov will teach a knife-making course, and a class for women only, because “there are not nearly enough women blacksmiths.”

Heidi Shewchuk and Dan Klug, White Hart Forge

Heidi Shewchuk is talking about the namesake for the Milwaukie-based forge she runs with her husband Dan Klug: “The white hart always appears when something good or amazing is about to happen. It has always been a powerful symbolic animal for me.”

It was also literally a sign the two smiths saw when they rolled into town for the first time: soaring over the “Made in Oregon” neon sign atop the White Stag building in downtown Portland.

Perhaps it foretold the influence the forge would have on the local landscape.

Though much of their custom ironwork is hidden away inside clients' homes, a look into their portfolio is like a suggested walking tour of Portland's eastside. Among other projects, they created the whimsical taps at the Lucky Lab in Buckman; the sign and hop vines along the bar for Hedge House in Richmond; the Bavarian-style sign for Edelweiss Deli in Brooklyn; and an elaborate gate inside the Norse lodge in Kerns, complete with runic inscriptions and dragons.

A shared love of history—in particular renaissance, medieval, and Viking age—informs their work, which benefits from the two smiths' unique skill-sets: Klug worked as an archaeologist for fifteen years before learning traditional joinery and blacksmithing from the late Geronimo Bayard, while Shewchuk studied sculptural metal work and welding at Pratt Fine Arts Center in Seattle.

When they're not working on custom designs (current projects include a Viking-themed fireplace screen for a Norwegian customer) and handrails, they also teach blacksmithing courses on-site at the forge, and give demos of old world techniques at fairs and festivals. They're often commissioned to make traditional tools, like fire strikers for Boy Scout troops working on “heritage skills.”

“We started teaching when we realized there are people out there who want to learn these skills,” Shewchuk says. “About 80% are people who work behind a desk all day, just starving to do something physical and intellectual and creative. That's what's fun about it: we get to teach them how to make something they can use. They're just blown away.”

Though business has been picking up again, class attendance is low. When things get tough, it's a love for the craft and a belief in the timeless value of hand-crafted ironwork that keeps them going.

“I can't compete with a metal shop in terms of speed and cost, but I can make you something that's beautiful, that's going to last, and that you'll love,” Shewchuk says. “In the long run it's worth it to hire an artisan.”