by
Jacky Byrne
IN the middle of
Guildford's soulless Midleton Industrial Estate is a white-washed
building with a gothic air, out of place among the utilitarian
warehouses and office blocks.
From within emanates a rhythmic tapping noise and a peep
inside reveals a scene which could almost be medieval: blacksmiths at
work with-in the blackened walls of a forge. Rods of iron glow orange in
a furnace and primitive looking tools are hung all around. Admittedly
the tapping is that of a power hammer not available to medieval
blacksmiths - but the time-warp effect is powerful.
The location is Utopia
Forge, where two modern-day blacksmiths, Andy Quirk and Robert
Kranenborg, create from iron decorative and practical objects which
would challenge the wildest of imaginations. Gates with free-flowing,
organic forms, weird and wonderful sculptures, ,benches and balustrades
which go way beyond the bounds of probability.
The building that
houses the forge is 150 years-old and was once the lodge house to
Guildford mortuary. Walls have |
|
Andy
took over the forge with its two blacksmiths. But he found that the
administrative work was keeping him away from blacksmithing so at 21 he
re-launched as a one-man contemporary black-smith's
business.
He gained inspiration from other artist black-smiths and began practicing
and experimenting in earnest. For the past eight years - he is now 29 -
he has dedicated himself to producing fine quality designs and
developing his own distinctive style. He has traveled widely to work
alongside the world's top artist black-smiths, including his personal
hero Albert Paley in New York.
Andy's business partner, Robert Kranenborg, 24, is a tall, blonde
Dutchman whose looks would surely guarantee him a job as a model if he
weren't so committed to getting his hands .dirty as a blacksmith.
A journeyman who packed his rucksack, got on his bike and took
the ferry from Amsterdam to work his way around England learning his
craft, Robert had been working for Mike Roberts, one of the country's
leading blacksmiths when Andy met him at a conference. The two
complement each other as Andy does most of the design while Robert is
the practical problem-solver.
In the forge there are |
several
examples of their work. A gate which took 100 hours to make and costs
£4,000 is waiting to be transported to London for a photo shoot for
World of Interiors, the ultra-posh interior design magazine. There are
smaller items such as avant-garde candlesticks and there is even an old
brass bed awaiting repair, the more bread-and-butter side of their
business.
Projects include a Web of Life gate exhibited in the Hannah
Peschar Sculpture Garden, tables stands for french bread and napkin
rings for the London Sheraton and one-off pieces of furniture for a
variety of clients. Other items they have made include wine |
racks,
fire hoods and weather vanes.
The biggest job ever was for London's Turnmills nightclubs and
Café Gaudi restaurant, for which Andy designed dramatic balustrades and
seating, which look as if they might have come from the Garden of Eden,
complete with built-in copper ashtrays and intricate details such as
bunches of grapes and an apple with a maggot crawling out of it. "I
like to make things realistic, to copy natural forms as exactly as
possible," he says.
Utopia Forge made the gates for a new office building in Sydenham
Road, Guildford, through the Percentage for the Arts scheme and will
also |
create
matching railings if planning permission is given. They are also
awaiting planning permission for a life-size sculpture to stand by the
River Wey in Guildford. It . is entitled The Bargeman and is a public
arts project commissioned by The Guildford Society.
His work, says Andy,
"is like an addiction. Maybe it's to do with creating something
almost everlasting or perhaps its in the transforming of one of the
hardest materials there is using fire, bending it to your will with the
hammer and anvil. People love watching it. In this world of mass
production they don't realise that it is still being done this
way." |
been
knocked down on the ground floor to create a large workspace but up the
rickety stairs a tangle of attic rooms remains and the forge cat's head
peeps out from her loft home. Truly a workplace with character.
Andy Quirk's great uncle was a blacksmith in an Irish village and
although Andy never knew him he has seen much of his work and visited
the site of the forge, so perhaps it is in his blood. Certainly he
enjoyed metalwork at school, which he left at 15 to become a plumber.
Nine months later he was picking up the Yellow Pages and turning to the |
listings
marked "black-smiths". He was taken on as an apprentice by
"Tubby" Martin at the Unicorn forge (now renamed Utopia).
Because the other blacksmiths were in their 60s and 70s, Tubby
planned to train Andy to take over eventually. But disaster struck six
months into his apprenticeship. In an horrific accident, Andy severed
his hand with a circular saw. Only the bone of the little finger was
intact and his hand had to be re-attached in a six-hour operation at
Queen Mary's Roehampton. It was 13 months and eight operations later
before he |
could
work again officially but after three months Andy began doing jobs iii
the forge. "My love for it is what kept me going - it was my
medicine. I was told I wouldn't work again and in a plastic surgery ward
you meet people who have given up but it just made me more
determined."
He admits, though, that the circular saw held demons for him, but
strangely he was less afraid of using it himself than of seeing others
use it. Although movement in his wrist is limited it doesn't impede his
work. When Andy was 19, Tubby was diagnosed with cancer and soon |
 |
