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The image of the modern watchmaker is someone in a white lab coat working in a “clean room” environment. This does characterize most watchmaking companies and schools—except the York Time Institute. Instead of white coats we wear aprons worn by smiths because, like them, we are concerned to fire and hammer materials in order to transform them into implements and components for watches and clocks. Today, for example, I continued to learn to use my watchmaker’s lathe to make balance staffs. Part of that has involved working with various kinds of metal stock to get a feel for the kind of steels best suited for this component. Today I was working with an unusually hard bit of steel and, rather than continue to clobber my gravers, I decided to anneal the stock to make it easier to turn. This involved descending into Thor’s workshop and learn how to heat and cool the metal in an old fashioned furnace—a somewhat tedious process. This, in fact, is my second attempt. My first attempt had succeeded in softening the outer layers of the stock but I discovered, upon turning it down, a much harder core which again proved refractory to my tools. Hence the second baptism by fire. Hopefully will work. The annealing process is slow and as I started it towards the end of the day, I’ll have to wait till morning to see how successful. As for the lathing itself, it brings back memories of my dad’s and grandad’s workshops where there was always a background of smells including my grandad’s Half N’Half pipe smoke and 3 in 1 oil. Lathing is an “oil intensive” task; not the stock, but the bearings of the lathe and the countershaft need regular lubrication. This when combined with the metallic smell of metal shavings produces momentary sensations of a la temps perdu as vivid in me as the famous madeleine episode in Swann’s Way. I am momentarily transported 50 some years into the past. And this displacement, I’m convinced, is synergized by the, potent, old-fashioned atmosphere of our school. It is easier to go back in time in an environment which resembles the period to which one hearkens. I have only begun to meet with the physical materials who, someday, will acquire my substance through their changed form while I absorb theirs through their smells, textures and other physical properties. To “eat and breathe” the metals and other materials of watchmaking is to acquire a better sense of the watch itself and the delicate interplay of its parts—or so I hope. Yet, it comes with a price. The price is that much of our work appears ordinary. Dirty hands, repetitive movements, gradual changes, attention to humble details. Watches are, like us, made from matter and working with them and their materials reminds me of how St. Francis looked at his own body, which he used to call brother donkey because the body is very stubborn. So too are the watches and clocks with which we work. They seem to have their own wills and we must adapt and become more patient with them. Like a donkey, they can be both pathetic (and exasperating!) and sublime. When they become the latter it is because they have been tended by the dexterous and patient hand of the watchmaker. P.S. I have not forgotten to post my the final result of my restoration of my lathe. Next installment.