E ssential skills

Posted on March 13, 2012 by Erika Koenig-Workman

Welcome to the first day of ‘The Journey’ the instructor said.

Five women and seven men sit in room 102 at UAPICBC on our first day of orientation. I am in a covert operation beginning with strangers who embark upon a voyage of work, dedication and pure determination to learn and train ‘to be’ welders. Indulge me for a moment, you know I have imagination!

I travel to far away Annacis Island through an industrial corridor which puts me in the mood to learn about welding and the industry. At the moment I am public transiting which is its own kind of curious experience, except if one is sleeping! It is a journey worth embarking upon and I have all confidence that I will learn ~e ssential skills for welding and life!

As I can I will keep you in the know, with short posts from time to time. Thanks for coming along on this maiden voyage with me. ~e

It is all the same to me

Blue Star Iron Pour from Mark & Angela Walley on Vimeo.

It had been a while since I had checked in. This beauty of a Vimeo Video awaited me by Mark and Angela Walley.

It is all the same to me. I am in the background watching with bated breath, the pour. Fire refines and casts a shape that cannot be easily changed until the flame is lit again.

Thy dangerous flame I miss

Thy heat is long felt and broken upon my skin

My only hope is that one day

Thy fire, water, earth will mix with wind

To produce my felt desire to be with you

CSL Files 217 [2.09] Industrial Diner

Upon arrival within the space of a few minutes Sienna and Kate were sitting at their favorite Diner on an Industrial Island sipping bad coffee in china they loved that was indestructible.

Sienna read Real Estate Weekly but put it aside in favour of Margaret Visser’s “The Rituals of Dinner”.

Kate had just finished chapter two of  Thomas Szasz’s “My Madness Saved Me” and glanced out the front window taking in Szasz’s forceful statement:

‘Virginia Woolf was a victim of neither mental illness, nor psychiatry, nor her husband—three ways she is regularly portrayed. Instead, she was an intelligent and self-assertive person, a moral agent who used mental illness, psychiatry and her husband to fashion for herself a life of her own choosing.’

The sea will drum in my ears. The white petals will be darkened with sea water. They will float for a moment and then sink. Rolling me over the waves will shoulder me under. Everything falls in a tremendous shower, dissolving me. --Virginia Woolf, The Waves

For the few who dared take pleasure in an Island that boasted concrete production and education to those going into the piping industry, it was a cornucopia of industrial delights.

Sienna brought her camera and was determined to capture shots that were full of texture and 256 shades of grey she had learned about in her class, ‘Elementary Concepts of Graphic Design’.

Time was running short so they hurried from the Diner and took their bikes down to the river. There she swooned with a kind of ecstasy, Kate smiled to watch her take pleasure in Industry and trade.

….Geepers, I’ll be wrapping my mind around copper piping; the joining, preparation and care of it, how wacky is that? thought Kate

Metal excited her and she recalled late into the night a subtle metallic taste that lingered in her mouth usually after reading, A Liger’s Tale by Rhea Phoenix.

“When you are ready I’ll go with you, I’m here for you” said Sienna

“I know…” Kate replied as she admired Sienna’s stately amazon like figure.

Her elegant beauty made Kate heady. They couldn’t be more different in stature yet their passion for art, industry and trade brought a visceral excitement, a revelation that caused them to lose track of time when they reminisced over steel, the effects of weather on metal, every manner of and hue of rust—a natural patina that magically and invisibly developed in the dead stillness of nights long gone.

Kate smiled at Sienna recalling her clad in fashionable clothes from the ’80’s as she prepared to visit real estate clients. She would build her professional relationships on her own terms and make art because in her heart lay a child like trust. It was this she listened to and followed, the evidence of it lay in her determination that was as tall as the stature she boasted.

“Let’s go, we have a long ways back to Lulu” said Kate

“Ready” smiled Sienna

Mounting their bikes they found their way back from one Island to another with little trouble and traffic. Flat out riding on concrete they bore down on a beaten highway designed for diesel dykes since they were the ones who could take the heat alone, embodying the strength and wisdom of the Valkyries. They arrived in good time. Sienna pulled in to the driveway and ran into the house to find Gary lounging in a chair in his study with a cocktail in hand.

“Well how’d it go….I hope you took way too many pictures because you know I’ll be ruthless with you” he said affectionately as he kissed her mouth

“Of course hon, as usual I was beguiled. Kate is on her way and I’m excited for her and proud since she left the physics gig behind, she’s moving forward with her art riding the precarious vein of her closest sentiment” said Sienna

“Ah….that’s why I love you, you pull at my heart-strings with words so fine” Gary drew her towards him and she fell into a momentary spell as he caressed the nape of her long neck.

Kate was glad she got back to the studio in the early evening, so she could take in the last light of day. Approaching the entry way of the building she looked down to find a turtle on the concrete struggling half digging itself into the soil. Her memory was jogged, Roberto she thought suddenly….it won’t be long now until the desolation passes. She picked up the turtle and lay it next to the Richmond ditch.

She entered the studio and logged on to find the latest On the road post.

Danielle, it’s all going accordingly, you are finding your way….I knew you would

She walked out onto the balcony with a glass of white wine, the mountains of Vancouver Island were deep indigo blue, the water below, sea grass green—vivid serene colours washed through her with a hope brought on by deep consolation. Looking into the ditch below she pulled out her binoculars to search for the turtle. Surprisingly it still lay there until slowly it moved into the swampy water and disappeared under the surface.

visible and invisible

just showing you the beginning of this funky thing because im getting my mind around working with the most hazardous and poisionous materials ive ever touched but then working with humans is much more dangerous this metal is softer than you can imagine—human flesh is harder

in looking after babies boys and brothers one builds up immunity a callous for the betterment of soul and body

so what im saying is in your softness become tough in your beauty become rough in your heart make art

use beauty to heal not harm

Unlike amour

the way to go is to put on the armour (Canadian spelling) every day, I say armor (American spelling), the word is similar but unlike amour….

Im talking the “metal coverings formerly worn by soldiers or warriors to protect the body in battle”….

helmet—breastplate or chestplate—belt—shield—sword of the Spirit—feet fitted with peacethe absence of hostility

so that’s what I do, occasionally when Im lax I forget momentarily but I always return to the armour ‘cuz Ive learned I need it while here on the planet in the 21st century

let me tell you the cool thing is you meet others—who are suited up and have ridden for a long while

those others come just in the nick of time usually when you are in a ditch by the dyke

amour reappears

—Freyja~Frigg, ww