Ifirst met Norm Sartorius at a confer-ence some years ago and we developeda long-distance friendship, exchanging

pieces of wood and friendly messagesacross the globe. From time to time we saweach other at woodworking events, and inSeptember 2005 I had a good chance to talkwith Norm when I visited him at his homein Parkersburg, West Virginia.

Norm is a genial man, a stocky figure witha full beard and a strong, resonant voice thatbelies his gentleness. It was a pleasure to sitwith him for several days and talk about howhe travelled the road from being a humblemaker of kitchen spoons to a respected andsought-after artist. The list of his achieve-ments is extraordinary, with his work held ineleven major museum collections, almostevery major private collection of wood art inthe country, and shown in a wish-list ofimportant exhibitions across America.Whatis different about this established wood artistis that he still exhibits regularly in craft fairs.For example, since 1991 he has shown hiswork nine times at the Smithsonian CraftShow, as well as eleven other regular events.So how does a humble spoonmaker end upspanning the whole craft/art spectrum tobuild such a wonderful career?

Norm was born in 1947 and, after grad-uating with a degree in Psychology, heworked for a few years as a psychiatric

social worker. It ultimately proved to be anunsatisfying career for him, which heexplains in a way that many of us can relateto: “It was desperately difficult to get a feel-ing of accomplishment. I got to the pointthat I envied the woman I used to see everymorning sweeping the stairs. At least shehad a result. After five years I quit to findsomething where I could have a clear, visi-ble result for my efforts.”

Norm hit the road in search of hisfuture. Although he had no thoughts ofwoodwork, he met a couple in Baltimorewho owned a craft store, and they offeredhim a position as a trainee woodworker. “Ihad never done any woodworking of anykind, but it felt really good right from thestart. I made cutting boards, knife racks,light switch plates, bracelets, pie servers—anything small out of wood.”

Eventually Norm bought a cabin in WestVirginia and kept on making the samekinds of things to sell at local craft fairs. Anold barn that cost $50 became his source ofwood.“A lot of it was beautifully weatheredchestnut, and I made kitchen utensils outof it. I was selling spoons for $7. It was avery simple life with not much money.”

A few years later, Norm met Bobby ReedFalwell, a well-known studio furniture-maker. “He liked my spoons and boughtthree. We kept in touch, and in 1980 he

encouraged me to come and work with him.I stayed with him for eighteen months.”Evenat that early time, Norm had developed hissignature style of using the natural featuresof a piece of wood. Falwell encouraged this:“He was particularly impressed with my useof raw material, such as the contrast betweenheartwood and sapwood, and he was thefirst person who told me that there was asculptural quality to my work.”

Norm moved to Parkersburg in 1982,and he feels that was when his work startedto become more sophisticated. “The qual-ity of my finish and my choice of woodscertainly improved. I built a different boothfor the craft shows.” Norm noticed that thepublic response to his spoons was also dif-ferent than to all his other work, and hestarted to consider that maybe he was, atheart, a spoonmaker. “This was probably areflection of the fact that I really liked mak-ing spoons,” he says. “It had always beenthat way, right from the beginning.”

In 1986 Norm was contacted by thehead of Craft Alliance in St. Louis. She said,“I’ve heard you make really beautifulspoons. We’re having a show called WoodenVessels: the Art of Woodturning. Would youlike to show spoons as art work, not just asfunctional spoons?” Norm sent fifteenspoons, and instead of his usual mineral oilfinish, he put a permanent finish on them.

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Norm SartoriusThe Spoonish Sculptures of

BY TERRY MARTIN

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Norm Sartorius finishes a

variety of spoons in progress

in his West Virginia shop.

“That was the first time I did that; her callhelped me complete that change in mythinking.” Norm showed me the flyer forthe show; below the list of all the famousturners’ names, it read “Featured artist:Norm Sartorius, Sculptural Spoons.” All ofhis spoons sold, and he says that it led to amajor change in his self-image.

The story of how Norm became both awell-respected artist and a distinguished par-ticipant in the craft circuit revolves aroundtwo factors. Certainly, one is meeting theright people and being open to their influ-

ence. But the other, probably more impor-tant, factor is the years of steady, hard workhe has put into developing his skill anddesign sense. Norm told me that many peo-ple don’t realize how much is involved.“Often people come into my booth and tellme that my work seems quite romantic.They’re probably comparing it to their officejobs. I tell them that an awful lot of what Ido is just work. If you took 40 hours of mywork, probably 35 of those hours are cut-ting, sanding, filing, or endlessly rubbing.”

So why does Norm persist? “That’s notthe part that I work for. The addictivemoment comes when you see the potentialin an idea and then make it happen. WhenI see the look on people’s faces, that’s thething I work for—the communicationbetween the idea, the piece of wood, and thefew people out there who actually see whatI have seen. It’s worth all the rest, always.”

Like many woodworkers, Norm worksin a solitary environment, so being at craftfairs compensates in many ways.“At showsI am around other makers, collectors, thepublic. I get ideas from people who make

other wonderful things, not just in wood.It’s become my community of friends overthe past fifteen years. Also, I love it whensomeone comes into the booth, then runsout to the rest of their family and says‘Come here! You gotta see this!’ It doesn’tmatter if they are knowledgeable about thefield, because it shows I am communicat-ing with them in some way. That’s nourish-ment for me, and that is as important asdollar support.”

On the first morning I stayed with Normwe ate breakfast in a beautiful glassed room

overlooking a path that leadsunder enormous spreadingtrees to his workshop at thebottom of the garden. Whilesoft rain dripped from theleafy canopy, we ate and talkedabout spoons. WatchingNorm explain how he makesspoons is fascinating, as hebecomes so excited. While hespoke, his hands flexed aroundan imaginary piece of wood.Eventually, frustrated at theinadequacy of words, hesnatched up the uneaten half-melon from his plate andpointed to the rind.“Here’s thesapwood…,” he started. Sud-

denly he leapt up from his chair and rushedinto the kitchen, came back with a kitchenknife and started cutting up the melon.“Yousee, I don’t like that little part where the stemwas, so I’m going to cut that off. Now I’vecompletely changed the shape. I couldn’t seethis potential as long as that was attached.See, I cut here and here….” In momentsNorm has made a “melon spoon”and he hasalso made all the points he wanted to tell meabout how to carve spoons. For quite a whilewe both sat and sipped coffee while welooked at his new spoon.

We spent some time in Norm’s work-shop while he showed me how he works,then he spent the rest of the day showingme his spoon collection, which not onlyincludes special pieces of his own, butspoons from around the world. As wereviewed Norm’s work I started to realizejust how many spoons you can make in 30years and how different they can be. But Idid start to see patterns emerging, and itwas by dividing his work into themes thatI began to make sense of it all.

Of all the early pieces, I was most taken

with a maple spoon which he made in thelate 1970s (1). It is a beautifully simple arti-fact—the bowl is deep enough to hold agood mouthful, the handle is curved nicelyto fit the hand, and its proportions are justright. What is more interesting, though, isthe way the line of the edge of the bowlcontinues through the handle and widensto form a facet along the handle’s length. Itgives the piece a visual and physical unitythat is very satisfying. All of Norm’s earlyspoons were like this: functional and ele-gant. Significantly, this work also attractedthe attention of people who encouragedhim to give free rein to his creative instincts.

I particularly admire Norm’s marvellousunderstanding of the mechanics and designof the transition between the bowl of thespoon and its handle. Sometimes it is asmoothly flowing link, as in that early piece,seamlessly letting the bowl grow from thehandle, or vice versa. Norm agreed that thisis important. “The transition between ahandle and a bowl is really significant. It’snot something I can even successfully drawbecause it’s at the feeling level. If I’m work-ing on that I’ll stay up late into the nightrather than interrupt the flow of work.”

It might be the handle which dominates,such as with “Bird’s Nest” (2). The handlesplits, enclosing the bowl that hangs like anest in a forked limb, which was whatinspired this piece. In “Lilac Spoon” (3) thehandle reaches out gently to hold the endof the bowl. It is as if the bowl grew out ofthe stem of a “spoon tree,” so natural is thetransition. The simplicity of the imagebelies the time it takes to visualize thisdesign and to carve it out of the single pieceof wood. Norm described this as an “earlyattempt to create joinery illusions where thebowl and handle meet.”

One of Norm’s best-known spoons is“Lacewood and Imbuya Spoon,” which wasused in the early 1990s for the cover of theWoodcraft Supply Company mail-order cat-alog. Norm also used this image for his firstpostcard (4). He does not often use two con-trasting woods, but it works particularly wellin this example. In “Scoop” (5), which is nowowned by the Museum of Art and Design,he used his lathe skills to join two pieces ofwood with a turned tenon. It is not surpris-ing that a prestigious museum shouldinclude a piece of such superb craftsman-ship in its collections.

Many of Norm’s spoons are a celebration

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1: “Maple Spoon” (c.1978);

maple; 12" x 41⁄2" x 31⁄2".

2: “Bird’s Nest” (1990);

partridgewood; 8" x 21⁄2" x 13⁄4".

3: “Lilac Spoon” (1985);

lilac; 9" x 1" x 13⁄4".

4: “Lacewood and Imbuya

Spoon” (1989); lacewood,

imbuya; 14" x 51⁄2" x 1".

[Collection of Jim Osborn].

5: “Scoop” (1995); African

blackwood, American

smoketree; 17" x 2" x 13⁄4".

[Collection of the Museum

of Art and Design].

6: “Scoop—Amboyna Burl”

(1997); amboyna burl;

6" x 2" x 11⁄2".

7: “Flame She-Oak Spoon”

(1999); flame she-oak;

10" x 3" x 11⁄2".

8: “Primal” (2005);

budgeroo; 17" x 7" x 21⁄2".

9: “Shard” (2000); Texas

desert root; 10" x 41⁄2" x 21⁄2".

[Collection of the Mint

Museum of Craft + Design].

10: “Lift Off” (2003);

weathered desert ironwood

root; 171⁄2" x 10" x 31⁄2"

[Collection of Randy Antik].

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11: “Falling Water” (2004);

amboyna burl; 12" x 5" x 6"

[Collection of Fleur Bresler].

12: “Collaboration with

Nature” (2000); unknown

Texas desert root; 9" x 5" x 21⁄2".

13: “Antenna Spoon” (2003);

algerita burl; 9" x 3" x 2"

[Collection of Fleur Bresler].

14: “Assateague Spoon” (1991);

mahogany; 7" x 31⁄2" x 1".

15: “Bighorn” (2002);

cocobolo; 11" x 6" x 31⁄2"

[Collection of Pat McCauley].

16: “Pink Boat” (2003);

pink ivory; 11" x 3" x 5".

17: “Hala” (2003); algerita,

ebony rest; 7" x 11⁄2" x 21⁄2"

[Collection of Pat McCauley].

18: “Mutation” (1999);

Mexican oak burl; 9" x 41⁄4" x

3" [Collection of the Renwick

Gallery, Museum of American

Art, Smithsonian Institution].

19: “Spoon” (1989); pearwood;

10" x 41⁄2" x 21⁄4" [Collection of

the Arkansas Arts Center].

20: “Jack in the Pulpit 2”

(2003); unknown Texas desert

root; 161⁄2" x 21⁄2" x 11⁄4".

11 12

13 14

15 16

17 18

19 20

of grain and color, not so much a spoon as apalette for expressing his love of wood.As hepicks over his wood stack and holds outpieces of wood for me to admire, he says, “Ireally like heartwood-sapwood contrast andI use that a lot to emphasize features of thedesign.” This is particularly obvious in“Scoop—Amboyna Burl” (6). Because theeye is drawn so strongly to the fascinatingglimmer of the grain, it has to be a simpleform. This piece is pure elegance. Sometimesthe line of the grain almost decides the shapeof the spoon. With “Flame She-Oak Spoon”(7), the handle swoops around to follow theline of repeating grain patterns that seem toline the bowl in ever-decreasing circles. It is asatisfying illusion that is only brought to lifeby Norm’s sensitivity to this natural quality.

Norm’s love affair with wood has led himfrom being primarily a function-drivendesigner to what you might call an inter-preter of the natural qualities of wood. Heagrees with this notion:“It’s not often I cometo a piece of wood with a preconceived idea.About 75% of my spoons are very powerfullyinfluenced by something about the wood. Itmay be a weathered part of the wood, a littlearea of burl, or a color contrast betweenheartwood and sapwood.”In recent years thespoons which seem to give Norm the mostsatisfaction are those which take advantageof the natural features in the wood, especiallythe heavy scars of nature’s hand.

As an example, Norm speaks with prideof one of his favorite spoons.“I made “Pri-mal” (8) in 2005. I had a show coming upand I wanted to take a great spoon. Ithought that piece of wood had the mostpotential, but I couldn’t see it. I had it at myfeet for a couple of weeks, and I’d take abreak from working on another piece andlift it up, turn it over. It was really electricwhen I finally saw it. Then it was quitequick and smooth. Nothing could shake myconfidence that this piece is great. It prac-tically made itself!” Another nature-drivenspoon is “Shard” (9), which is held by theMint Museum of Craft and Design. Normfeels this spoon “suggests a remnant of awhole spoon, perhaps eroded over time anddiscovered in a ruin.”

Sometimes the natural wood charmsNorm so much that he leaves whole partsuntouched. “Lift Off” (10) is a marvellouscontrast between the finely-carved spoonand the untouched extension. I say “exten-sion” because it is not really a handle, but

more an understood reference to where thehandle would be in a normal spoon. How-ever, the retention of the raw edge does notalways have to be there just to create a con-trast. In “Falling Water” (11), the jagged sap-wood edge wonderfully emulates liquidfalling from the rim of a ladle, just as if youwere pouring water.

In some pieces the rough beauty of thewood overwhelms any idea of imposeddesign and the carving is merely a token ref-erence to what Norm calls “spoon-ness.”Asa celebration of unrefined wood,“Collabo-ration with Nature” (12) must be the bestexample. “Antenna Spoon” (13) is anotherexcellent example as the remnant twigalmost looks like it is stillgrowing.

Many of the spoons Normmakes are explorations of thesculptural potential of thehandle. “Assateague Spoon”(14) is an example of almostfigurative work from Norm,using seashells as inspiration.He explains, “AssateagueIsland is where I used tobeachcomb for shells when Iwas boy.” This idea is takeneven further with “Big Horn”(15), which reminds Norm ofanimal horn.“Pink Boat” (16)is an unexpected form withanother fascinating handle,loosely based on an Egyptian oil lamp fillerwhich Norm saw in an auction catalog.

One way to describe many of Norm’sspoons is simply “unexpected.” He callsthese spoons “really weird…they might bevery abstracted, or cartoonish, or very exag-gerated in form, extremely asymmetrical. Iwant to surprise people so they think theyhave never seen a spoon like that before. Isuppose I’m working at my best when I finda way to make a departure from what isexpected.” The best example I could find ofthis is “Hala” (17), which is almost a sub-version of the spoon—a spoon which can’tbe used. But there is also a logic to thispiece, and in many ways this embodiesmuch of what Norm is trying to say withhis work—let it go the way it wants to go.Perhaps this is one of the reasons it isnamed for the yoga asana “the plow.”

One special group of spoons comprisesthose that have been acquired for significantpublic collections. He is particularly proud

of these: “At least four of the museums thathave my work purchased it directly from meat craft fairs. There was no intermediary—the curator was cruising the craft fair andsaw my work. That gives me a really highlevel of satisfaction.” They include “Muta-tion” (18), which Norm calls “one of the verybest of my career. ‘Spoonish,’ but not aspoon, it has two bowls that are back-to-back and a handle that is not really a handle.You may see that it comes from my need toput a handle-type-of-thing on there, but itdoesn’t present itself to either of the bowlsin a functional way. There’s even a spout, butit doesn’t really resemble what most peoplethink of as a spout.You could point to spout,

handle and bowls, but they are integrated ina way that makes it an abstract sculpture.Ken Trapp [then Curator-in-Charge at TheRenwick Gallery of the Smithsonian Amer-ican Art Museum] chose this from my frontpedestal at the Washington Craft Show in1999.” This is a real paradox—the “spoon”which Norm thinks of as his best is not reallya spoon at all. However, it does echo the uni-versally familiar spoon shape, and probablyarouses universal human memories of thatsimple artifact.

Although not bought by a curator, asimple pearwood spoon (19) made in 1989was one of the most significant direct salesNorm has made. “This was the first spoonI sold during my first show with my all-spoon booth at the ACC Atlanta show in1990. The buyers were Robyn and JohnHorn, and they recently donated it to theArkansas Arts Center. Meeting them was asmuch of a career turning point as doing myfirst all-spoon show.”

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So productive has Norm been that it isalmost impossible to do his work justice.I’d like to end with a personal favorite,“Jackin the Pulpit 2” (20). It is a modest piece,but it contains all the elements which Ibelieve make Norm Sartorius’s workunique. Although it resembles a spoon, infact it would not hold anything. It containsparts of the raw wood from which it wasmade and yet there is a delicacy about thecarved lines which link the rim of the bowlwith the line of the handle. It is an artifactwhich fits the mind as well as it fits the hand

and it is the kind of work which will standthe test of time.

I have never met a more likeable personthan Norm Sartorius and the communityof woodworkers should be proud to counthim among their number. Norm bestexplains his own work with these words:“How a spoon fits in your hand and how itfits in your eye are only part of why a goodpiece works. There is also a ‘feeling level’ ofconsciousness, a quick gut reaction that isvery different to an intellectual reaction.Perhaps it’s partly made up of touch and

sight, but there’s more than that. When I’mmaking a piece, there comes a point when Ijust feel that it is finished—no more shap-ing, no more adding and subtracting. It’sjust done. That’s a mildly magical moment.”If you appreciate these words, you willunderstand why Norm is such a valuablemember of the woodworking community.

You can contact Norm Sartorius at:www.normsartorius.com.

Terry Martin is a contributing editor toWoodwork magazine.

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IN NORM SARTORIUS’ workshop he wantsto show how he makes a spoon, but is frus-trated that he may not do justice to the longthought process that goes into many of hispieces.He holds a fragment of wood and pacesfrom one end of the shop to the other, saying:“I like to spend time with a piece of wood. Itmight sit on my bench beside where I amworking. In fact I have pieces of wood like thataround me all the time. Once I am clear aboutwhat I am doing, and only when it is crystalclear, then I’ll dive right in. I’ll make enoughprogress on that piece of wood so that idea isnot lost. I don’t need to see the whole thing,just the beginning. I tell my students that some-times you can’t see what should be there, butyou can clearly see what shouldn’t be there—and that’s a starting point.”

With that, he takes the piece of wood tothe bandsaw.“Here—I don’t need this piece.”With quick cuts he removes several sliceswhich don’t fit his internal image, all the whilepreserving the sapwood-heartwood contrastthat he loves (A).When he has a rough shapethat he likes, he moves to the sander, which isfitted with 24-grit sandpaper (B).This quicklymodifies the faceted cuts of the bandsaw tosmoothly flowing lines. “I really like gracefullines, although an interruption can serve tomake the smoothness of the line more notice-able. If there is a kind of detour and then theline is picked up again, it is a little more sophis-ticated than a simple line. A piece can bechanged just enough from the expected tomake it go from average to wonderful by reallysmall shifts in the line, color, or texture.That’s

what I’m laboring to do with each piece.”With the exterior lines roughed out, Norm

sits down in his comfortable chair and takes adie grinder fitted with a carbide cutter to startshaping the concave interior (C). He quicklyworks towards the rim, resting the grinder onhis leg to make the work lighter. When thebowl is nearing the form he wants, he changesto a sharp-edged cutter and starts to relievethe area at the transition from handle to bowl(D).These cuts can then be refined with acarving knife (E).

Next, Norm switches back to the grinderwith a ball-shaped Kutzall™ burr mounted torefine the curve of the interior (F). When hehas gone as far as he can, he puts down thespoon and smiles at me. “Here is where thehours of filing, sanding, and polishing start.”

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