Anvil translated from its early root anfilte roughly means “build-on” — the object which the smith builds things on. The anvil is the altar at which the smith shapes the world; it has a kind of magical appeal. It is solid and massive. It is a symbol of weight and …
I filmed this with help from my dad (Peter Powning) and a tripod back in 2009. It demonstrates some of the process of making the Viking sword Vardhllokur. It was edited by the good people at Galatia Films for the special features of the movie “Reclaiming The Blade”. If you’re …
The hills are black, the sky a dim line along the horizon. Snow falls. It collects beside the stones and then blows on. The wind rises, tugging at his beard. He has devoted his life to unfolding the mysteries of the dark mother. He knows her hidden name, has walked …
I’ve been working on layers of projects, drawing, designing, writing proposals, figuring out steel and leather. Part of what I’m doing has involved looking back, examining the hoarded images I have and evaluating my career as a swordsmith. I found this picture of Peter Johnsson and me tracing and measuring …
Several years ago Peter and Owen and I went to the Wallace Collection In Central London to trace and measure swords. Here are a few pictures of one of the swords that has really stuck with me. It’s a huge two-handed sword which weighs almost seven pounds, heavy for a …
I spent a large portion of my time this week either on the phone with UPS or worrying about the parcel which they lost. Earlier this winter I constructed the Mace of Molag Bal for the web video series Arcade Arms, I shipped it out on Jan 7th for them …
Sketching is drawing for no-one — there’s no imagined audience. When it works, I let go of  my need to make it good, to decorate the page, and just see what I’m looking at. The tree becomes a strange twisting puzzle of shapes I’ve never seen before, shapes that seem …
The January thaw, that’s what the old ones called it. Winter lets go for a span of days and rain comes, melting much of the snow away. The forest opens up a bit. I walk through the trees, the ground is crushed down from where the snow was. There is …
Winter clutches the land. It had been so cold that snow was like sand, squeaking under boots, drifting on roads, light as dust. Then the weather changed. Rain came and howling wind, the rain froze when it hit the roads, highways are closed, littered with spun-out ambulances and snowplows. The …
Nights lengthen into silent moonlit worlds, between vivid days. Long shadows fall away from the sun which makes a low arc from south-east to south-west horizon and is gone leaving the cold to breathe through the crack at the door. The snow comes. Stoke the fire, begin winter’s work. …