Taking a swing at metalworking

In my defense, the class skill requirement stated, “All welcome.”

That’s how I ended up spending a week in July among 2,000-degree forges and seven hot guys. 

Metalworker Jeffrey Funk offered the Forging from the Natural World course through his New Agrarian School, which offers chances to immerse oneself in historic craft, with some modern touches.

As a bookbinder, I like to work with my hands to create objects of utility and expression.

Here I was out of my league. Most of the other students traveled from out of state and as far as Ohio. Many owned anvils; one ran a blacksmithing school. They knew of Funk via national blacksmith gatherings and “that show” — “Forged in Fire.”

The first morning, we munched on cherry-apricot scones made by Funk’s wife, Betsy, while Funk treated us to his slideshow of pieces that illustrate the course.  

He showed gates and doors festooned with grapes, vines, leaves and delicate fern fronds wrought in iron.  

“The natural world is the source for a lot of inspiration, open to interpretation,” Funk said as we moved to the open-air space adjacent to the shop, where he had detailed “Anatomy of a Burr Oak Leaf” on the chalkboard.  

“That said, literal mimicry is not a bad place to start." 

Sitting on Funk’s scavenged “dump chairs,” we absorbed the surrounding Bigfork greenscape studded with sculpture, a shop that dwarfed the house and, at the center, a refreshingly original thinker who combines art and know-how. 

I find it curious how uncurious some people can be, especially as they age. So when 70-year-old Funk says, “I have a zillion interests,” it makes me grin. 

“If you’re a perfectionist this isn’t for you,” Funk told us. “Be a machinist.”  

He unconsciously flips his hammer midstroke, and dispenses tips (“Make your mistakes fast, and get over them”) and quick observations (he spied a student’s fingers and inquired, “Fresh tape?” The student: “Just covering up some hot spots”). 

People went at their leaves with enthusiasm. I got the beginner project of a garlic scape.  

We upcycled pieces of Bigfork’s 1911 bridge by heats and hits, either with hammers on anvils or the power hammers, with names such as Rocky Three and Funkenpound.  

“It’s only noisy when other people are running the power hammers — not when I do it,” Funk said, then smiled. “It’s like a lullaby.” 

We hit on a rhythm: demonstrations followed by sweaty back-and-forth between forge and anvil. After I made many garlic scapes, shaping metal to resemble a tangle of plants, I graduated to leaves. 

For two days I couldn’t lift my water bottle with my hammer arm, and I couldn’t swing a racquet for weeks. But I learned what goes into a forged piece, and how mesmerizing orange firescale looks as it chips away under blows. 

Suddenly, Funk stuff appeared everywhere. I saw his fish sculpture in Depot Park. I went to the Bibler Gardens, passing through the “animal gate” he made and then stumbled upon one of his Aeolian harps.  

I explained my sore arm to a colleague days later.  

“I took African drumming with Jeffrey Funk for years,” he said. “He was really good!” 

Margaret E. Davis, executive director of the Northwest Montana History Museum, can be reached at mdavis@dailyinterlake.com.