Sergeant Reckless

A wonderful thing happened on the way to Florida...  We visited the National Marine Corps Museum! in Virginia (Dec 19).  It's absolutely free, there's plenty of parking and it's open every day except Christmas.  [Ahem: Closed thru March 2016, to hang a Dauntless.]  Once we drove in the main entrance, we turned hard left and went up a gentle hill.

It was a snapping cold day and we had the place to ourselves.  In this opening shot there is a great deal: the stone walls, the top of the museum just showing through the leafless trees -- it looks like a strange upside-down funnel -- and, just in front of it here, a stone plinth with a statue.  I for one was pleasantly surprised.

I had not expected dogs here, let alone such noble depictions of them.  I'm sorry to say I don't know the sculptor/sculptress of this bronze beauty.

What a great honor guard!

This lovely animal certainly set the tone of our visit.

He is forever on guard, in a most appropriate spot.

There was another dog statue not far away.  (Museum roof in background.)

There is that in me which can freely admire these magnificent animals.  My husband is deeply afraid of them, and as a result I have almost no contact with the real thing.  Yet this amazing guardian struck me as very realistic.

Two dogs down, we wandered slowly along the forested walk.   Everywhere were monuments, obelisks, tombstones and statues of soldiers and the gear of war.  The very bricks lining the walk had names on them.  I kept looking around.  I had tried very hard to locate exactly where on the grounds the famous statue of Sergeant Reckless was, but without success.  We walked for what seemed a couple of furlongs... it was very cold.

 In the same quadrant as Caesar the dog was a stone chapel and a ship's bell.  I was pleased by the bell but did not dare ring it!  Solemnity is easier when it's cold...
There is another connection in my life with the Marines:  the band.  (I was a music major, trombone.)  Coming round another corner I spotted a musician's memorial.  Again I was pleasantly surprised...  (and this was before I got inside, where I discovered much MUCH more about the Marine Band.  But I digress.)

Where the dickens was that horse??!!!?  It was cold... and we'd almost reached the point where we could see everything there was to see on this walk.  She had to be here!  And then it happened:  a quick glimpse of a distant shape and suddenly I felt warm.

(I struggled with this one in PhotoShop.)

There!  In the distance, down by the road.

With success sure, I settled down to enjoy the rest of our outdoor walk.  I was seeing things I hadn't known existed, such as methods for engraving marble that looked for all the world like photo-transfers.

The Museum is in the midst of installing 9-11 memorials.  Here is one of them, containing actual material from the site:

In such a place, surrounded by monuments and tombstones, by memories and history and deeds, it helps to 'focus down' on just a few.  "Find yourself some words and take 'em home."  One of my favorites was this 1967-1968 stone.

I would have changed the wording a tiny bit (pass instead of pass on, to eliminate the double on) but it certainly works as is.

Finally in the right frame of mind, I stood in front of it and turned to the right.  And there she was.

It was a good setting and a good preparing, all those monuments.  She is solemn, herself a memorial.  The whole place is a temple, an outdoor temple, something I had only read about up to this point.

Big as life!  a good deal larger.

The lighting was excellent.  As a photographer, I struggled to keep my batteries warm.
Of course Versalox was having the time of her life.  Every model in my herd -- if they are lucky -- gets one moment -- an encounter, an episode -- that defines them forever.  This was hers.

 I had read the book, and knew that the author, Robin L. Hutton, had scratched her initials on the statue close to the near hind hoof during the wax stage.  I found them.  (Just below Versalox' front feet, with a heart.)

People (not me) had laid roses on this bronze.

The sculptress is Jocelyn Russell.

I have mentioned the light.  I couldn't help but notice that the shadow of Reckless was tremendously photogenic.  Time was passing, the light was changing, and everybody wanted to get inside where it was warm.  But this chance was perfect and I could not pass it up.  "Paso Por Aqui" -- passed by here -- So this is my triple portrait of the three of us:

Taken twice because both angles were good.

Rest in peace, my lady.


Oh and it was a GREAT museum - !!  Everybody ought to go to this one:  it's absolutely free, there's plenty of parking and it's open every day except Christmas [but closed thru March 2016 to hang that Dauntless]...

Braidwork by Jacquee Gillespie

 When I was at Region X Regionals last month I had the privilege of judging an extraordinary entry.  I later sought permission from its owner to share pictures of it on this blog.  Not only did she give me permission, she sent me a couple more shots!  Thank you, Beth.

Naturally, a judge sees the best.  It takes quite a horse (and tack) to really seize my heart and hold my attention.  In truth, I must confess, I have seen this horse before, and photographed her before.  Two years earlier, I had taken these at NAN 2013, in Pennsylvania:

This is, of course, Victrix, sculpted by Carol Williams of Rio Rondo, and painted by Chris Flint.  Beth calls her Suicide Blonde.

It was seeing this model, I am convinced, that influenced me in my purchase of an unfinished Victrix at BreyerFest later that year.  Me, a Westerner!  Me, who doesn't do English... Me, who barely does sculpting, but  I kept having visions of doing a continental braid on her!  Me, who has too many unfinisheds as it is...  who usually can afford only one big-ticket item... OK, this is getting beside the point, but look at this face:

So when I saw her again at Regionals, there was an added layer of familiarity.
That was before I closed in on the gear.

Lord save us, it had to be by Jacquee Gillespie.  The Beautiful Horses braider.
(Nice pun for Chris Flint.  [beau cheveaux = beautiful horses])

Close ups of this amazing set:

The romal:

The hobbles.  Braided and rolled lace (I know the look of that material) with thread buttons, braided just like the full scale version.

Beth later told me the saddle was an Evelyn Munday, the doll was by Darla Curtis, and the saddle pad was from Corinne Ensor of Maryland.

Way to go.  The eye that put this ensemble together knew what it was doing! 
Jacquee has a FaceBook page: Beautiful-Horses-the-horsehair-braider
and a website:  www.beautiful-horses.com

At this point I have to back up a little.  My knowledge of the fantastic artistry of Jacquee Gillespie began with a dimly glimpsed display case at Artisan's Gallery, during BreyerFest 2008.  I was still using my old 35mm Nikon camera (it would not be retired until 2010).  I struggled to shoot through the crowds, in relative darkness, some of the most amazing scale-model Western braidwork I had ever seen.

 It looked just like the real thing: animal fibres, shreddy edges, beautiful braided buttons, real rawhide, actual horsehair!  (I am digitizing the photographs here.)

And the hardware!  It was clear she'd made her own buckles and bits.

Yikes!!  Real horsehair use in model tack is quite rare.  Up to this point I'd known it only from the likes of Juliane Garstka in Germany.

This girl clearly knew her stuff.  I had that old drop-to-my-knees feeling:  I had encountered the Real Thing, that which the rest of us merely make models of.

Although I'm ashamed of it today, I thought her prices too high.  I struggled whether to snag one of the mecates.  In hindsight I really should've.  Jacquee's work is very rare and hard to get hold of.  I later asked Beth how long it had taken her to get the Blonde's bridle.  "Oh, about 2 years!"

I found that Jacquee lived in New Mexico and made braided-horsehair mementos for people who had lost their mounts, from the horse's hair.  She was a jeweller -- that explained the silver bits and buckles, and the beautifully-scaled and crafted rein chains.  She owned dogs and alpacas -- that explained the fibrous mecates.   I experienced what has since become a common feeling:  surprise that an outsider could do so well, in this, my own closely-guarded and manifestly difficult field of expertise.

I usually have two mental paths to follow when this happens:  I can try to impress them with my own superior work (making them admit I'm better)(beat), or I can try to collect their work, learn more about it, admiring, and hope they'll admit my work has merit (join).  In the majority of cases I have chosen join.  The deciding factor appears to be so deeply buried I can barely detect it, but it has to do with 'liking' or identifying with the artist.  (Read C.S. Lewis' That Hideous Strength for a look at this phenomenon: Why did Jane 'like' the Dimbles?)
Of course, this leaves me right back down with everybody else:  How to obtain these delicious pieces?!  The thrill of the hunt...  In the meantime I take pictures...

At the Regionals, Beth had more tack on her table, and graciously let me photograph it.  (This time I've got my digital Fuji.)

One's hands can almost feel the coarse horsehair mecate reins.

This is a good look at the curbstrap (above).  The bits and buckles aren't just handmade; they're made with the unifying eye of a professional artist.  They match, in other words, and express an Art Deco influence.  It is her style.  At this level of skill, style is the main thing separating and distinguishing artists.

The bosal core is made from horsehair.  I've seen real horsehair bosals... in Mexico! 

This piece has more detail than many a full scale cousin.  Oh, I wish, I wish...

Here is the last view from Beth.  This would be the 'dos reindas' (two reins) phase of the horse's training, wearing both hackamore and bridle.  The same artistic style ensured they fit together.  The camera, alas, distorts the ears.

 I'm going for a close up:

Thanks again: to Beth for her generosity in sharing this gem, to Jacquee for making such quality pieces, and to the crew at RXR for putting up with my judging.  I'm inspired.


Notes from the future:  Starting in January I hope to pursue work on pdf-ing the Guide (this is NOT a curse) and starting my last Lottery silver saddle, the Star Wars set.  I also hope to start making smaller pieces and auctioning them.  It is my intention to make small donations to NAMHSA, spread throughout the year.  The 'grandfathers' (standing orders) will have to wait a while longer.  For more details, see our Tack Orders page of the TSII website:
Tack Orders

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Starting: the Horn

This chapter is all about making the horn for TSII #455, Miller's TriColor silver Parade Saddle.  We have done Western saddle horns using this method since the beginning of my tackmaking career.   Depending on how you count it, that makes 36 years (since 1979, when the TSII started taking orders) or 41 years (since circa 1974, when I actually started making tack).  Either way, that's a lot of horns... over four hundred and fifty!!  Some used thread, some used sinew, and some (like #455) used silver lacing, but they all were made basically the same way.

This post is also about just plain starting.  I find it quite difficult to begin a big piece.  How to get through the initial logjam?  Where do I begin?  Dividing and conquering just makes more logjams...  Over time I have evolved a habit-pattern:  much of the time I do start a saddle with the horn.   (Since I build mostly Western saddles, horns are taken for granted.)  I think of it as equivalent to starting painting a horse by doing his nose.

I imagine a flat plane, or sheet, of intent, sweeping through the saddle.  It starts at the horn and finishes with the back skirts, or the crupper if it's a parade set.  If the project were a horse it would finish with the tip of his tail.  There is a slight downwards motion to this imaginary plane:  it's gotta touch the fenders and stirrups, sweeping down through them, and then leap up (stretch or extend) and finish off with the rear.  It's the same idea as painting one's way down the legs and ending up at the hooves.  The tail is still last.  The order of being touched by this plane, then, is the order I do the pieces in.  It's one way to get started.

There really is the feel of a 'nose' or 'muzzle' about the Western saddle horn.  It's a handy knob to grab hold of when you're picking it up--- just like the head of a model horse.

Above is the start of the start.  That blue paper pattern was made from some random scrap of construction paper during my college years (early 80s) - and it's still in use today (2015)!  Since my shears can't cut so tiny a turn, I use the hole punch and the X-Acto.  The hole punch has the benefit of making that angle nice and smooth.

After dyeing the leather, the next step is hand-skiving the horn.  The slanted edge must be feathered thin; it will form a wrapped edge later on and should have no bulk.  The rest of the horn piece is left reasonably thick, although the inner edge is skived some.

A sidewise view, edge on, of the horn piece after skiving:

Very early in my career, I bought a little star stamp from Tandy's and started stamping the horns of my saddles with it.  It was in honor of the "Star" in my tack shop's name (see How the Timaru Star II got its name).  And ever since, every single Western saddle I've ever made has got that little star right in its horn.  By now there are layers of "wish upon a star" and of just plain time-honored history in that stamped mark.  It might be covered by a horn cap (in fact frequently is!) but the star is always there.
Here also I am slitting the rim of the horn for the braided-silver binding.  The tool is a needle chisel, homebuilt.

Making slits for edge-braiding is a separate skill.  The slits can't be too big or small, nor too far from the edge.  They should be spaced so the braiding lies evenly.  A rule of thumb is to use a slit just as wide as the lacing.  With Galaxy lacing (below) more skill is needed to cut the lacing to just the width of the needle chisel!
The next step is to make the horn core or frame.  I use 20 gauge galvanized steel wire.  The horn is about the last place left in my saddles to use galvanized instead of stainless, because it will be unseen (and any corrosion won't affect things).  Practice will be needed to shape the horn core: rounding the rim, paralleling the neck.

 Galaxy is a brand name of silver mylar belt lacing, available at Tandy's.  It was Cheryl Abelson, a miniatures dealer and amateur tackmaker in the early 80s, who first let me in on its use for model tack.  You have to peel open the full-scale stuff and pull out the fibrous filling.  You will be left with a thin flexible outer shell, whitish on the inside and silver on the outside (shown second from right).  You then have to cut the shell into strips.

Silver Galaxy lace solved many problems for me.  It didn't tarnish, was perfectly in scale, wasn't expensive or hard to get, looked great and could be cut to any size needed.  It was flexible but strong and took wear well.  It aged OK.  But one did need endless patience and skill to cut and trim a long enough strip for lacing.  If the strip was cut too thin, the stresses of lacing would cause it to curl there and then delaminate -- coming apart right in the middle of things!  I hated that curl!!  It was better to use two pieces, and somehow hide the ends, than to have your lace curl up and break...
The back of the Galaxy lace shell is marked in a sort of checkerboard of tiny squares.  The right width for #455's horn, and most Trad jobs, is just one square wide.

Another interesting thing about using Galaxy lace is I never need a needle.  I lace my silver without one.  It's useful to have a fid (a pointed tool) of course; my needle awl does that job.  But Galaxy is too thick to thread on a needle and would break under the forces involved.  So I cut a point on one end, open the slits and feed the end through by hand.

While it is not the place of this post to explain how to edge-braid, I can tell you that TSII #455 used Spanish Edge Lacing of 2 loops, as do most of my silver horns.  The braiding binds the horn core to the leather and gives it shape and strength.  The trick to most braiding is to keep an even tension or pull throughout the piece.

Rounding the horn (as it were) is another skill best picked up by practice.

At this point, ends tucked in and braiding finished, I roll up the leather around the wire and tie it with more wire (galvanized, 24 ga.).   It's tricky tightening this wire without breaking it, but nothing else is strong enough to hold the leather closed.  Position this closing wire below the surface of the pommel or shoulders, but not so far down as to stick out into the gullet.  Nip off the unused wire ends and bend the twist smooth.

Putting on the horn cap:  in the case of #455, a simple hot-ironed hex concho.  Tricky to preserve the doming (the arch to the concho); I used the corner of the stamping block, underneath, during ironing.

 At this point I sliced off the lower part of the horn neck, trusting to the wire twist-tie to hold things together.

And the final step:  creating the pommel.  This process was covered in another blog post.

And there you have it -- a big chapter in how we make Western saddles.  Hopefully some help in busting those logjams of creativity!  And more insight into the creation of TSII #455, as of this writing so soon to be finished.  I look forward to my next projects:  a short order hatband, more work on the Guide, and then a Star Wars-themed silver saddle!
Life is never boring.