On the wall in front of me, Malin explains, there’s a picture of my grandfather, mum’s dad, Karl-Erik Torssell. I learnt this handicraft from him. Still; the first thing he said when I asked if I could have a go was – no. No, this is not for girls. It’s too heavy, it’s too hard. So, I nagged him. Please, can’t I just hold the hammer? So he let me.
Granddad taught me everything he knew. How to make the Royal Sconce, for instance. The Swedish king Gustav V bought the first two my grandfather made. They were a wedding gift to Prince Gustav Adolf of Sweden and Sibylla, in the early nineteen-thirties.
I rely on instinct, and the experience I’ve built up. When I look back at what I’ve made, a principle can be discerned. It’s the question I ask of every new idea I get: Is it simple? Will it last? Will it work?
If you hold something I’ve made in your hand, you must sense the time that’s gone into it. When I sit down at the stock with a piece of metal in front of me, time passes but slowly. The ‘now’ solely consists of focused attention. From here time stretches back, so I can find my place in this tradition. And ahead, towards forms yet not conceived.