Yoav and I were recently in the back yard here at the shop shooting bows and arrows. Every few weeks Yoav stops in with his newest hand crafted bow and we shoot arrows into a piece of square foam propped up against an old wooden rocking chair. We’ve drawn a target on the foam with a black Sharpie marker, and we drink good coffee, peacefully shoot arrows, and chat.
Yoav has been making bows for a few years. He forages through the Costa Rican jungle for wood that he can slowly bend and tune into a proper bow. The work requires patience and passion and perhaps a fair tinge of insanity.
Each bow takes weeks to fashion. Meticulously sanded by hand and cured with fire into a durable tool that can withstand the repetitive force of bend and release which this practice demands.
The inspirations derived from craft are interchangeable, it seems. A similar passion is required in crafting a bow, or hand shaping a surfboard, or brewing a good cup of coffee. Focused intension and stubborn joy. Pints of delusion and shots of dreams. The simple act of transforming a raw material into an actual, usable devise is a humble act of creativity that has fueled and baffled humans for centuries.
As Yoav talks about the precision required when making a bow I consider the gentle movements employed when sanding the rails of a surfboard. The repetitive passes over time to eventually arrive at a shape that is acceptable to the creator and client. This universal equation fuels the engine of craft.
As Yoav explains the Archers Paradox I’m struck by the struggles and imperfections in all things. Perhaps this handmade, human made, new luxury process, stripped of the speedy miracles of technology, tether us to the exclusively human trait of craft – the rowdy love child of art and science.
Perhaps my excitement for bows and boards (and the fabulous coffee mugs I just ordered from the ceramicist Erin Louise Clancy) are the seeds of hope we plant while navigating the cloudy futures of art and creation and relationships and humanity. Make me something pretty and I will believe everything shall be alright.
Yoav has recently ventured into the realm of accessory, and is now making arrow’s to accompany his bows. These delicate devices are fragile. The time required to finish even one arrow is ludicrous, by modern standards. The swamps of economy and survival and commerce are murky. It is easy to lose oneself, or be diverted in these treacherous pools of capitalism. Yet somehow the soulful beauty of creation and the intangible joys of service persistently rise up.
As my mentor once told me ‘it is always offshore and glassy in the shaping room.’
Yoav, secluded on the hill, sanding a hollow bamboo chute into a straight arrow, summons peace, contentment, purpose. Perhaps the slow art of craft reverberates from whatever tool or toy we hold, and these grounding vibrations lend balance to the impatient tussles of technology that currently rule our days.
