I am a forager, digging through piles of scrap metal. I am quite picky, for at the scrapyard there is an abundance. What I seek is specific: a large sheet, not too thin, not too thick, ideally free of plastic lacquers, holes, or flaws. The best finds are old hot water tanks. 1950s tanks are a fine vintage. Around that time, manufacturers shifted from square to cylindrical constructions, yielding good, large sheets without joints. The more modern ones, cheaply made, are far too thin for my purposes.
When I find the perfect piece, I haggle. The price of scrap metal fluctuates, and there’s always a bit of theater in the negotiation. “There’s a big heating element; that must be at least a kilo,” I might point out. Sometimes, fortune smiles, and I come across sheet material cast off from a factory or some other unknown source.
The craft of coppersmithing itself is listed as critically endangered by Heritage Crafts in the UK
What I am searching for is copper, my material of choice. Copper is remarkable. It is one of the oldest metals worked by human hands. The craft of coppersmithing itself is listed as critically endangered by Heritage Crafts in the UK, a tradition at risk of being lost to time. Copper is endlessly reusable, endlessly transformative. It carries a full spectrum of color and possesses fascinating properties. In the western hierarchy of metals, gold reigns at the top alongside its companions, platinum and silver. Copper, though rarely given pride of place, has always underpinned civilization, from ancient tools to modern electronics.
At current usage, we have approximately 105 years before copper runs out.
It is, after all, a precious metal, whether we see it as such or not. Scarce enough to be valuable, copper makes up just 0.0068% of the Earth’s crust. As a result, 70% of copper waste is recycled. Yet our rate of consumption outpaces availability. At current usage, we have approximately 105 years before copper runs out.
When I’ve caught my quarry, I take it back to the workshop, where the process of transformation begins. Old hot water tanks are cut apart, hammered flat, annealed, and reshaped using traditional metalsmithing techniques. With each strike of the hammer, the copper begins to shed its industrial past. Its origin as unremarkable utilitarian plumbing or factory scrap becomes almost mythical. Meticulously, every bit of its essence is worked by hand. What emerges is an object of focus and contemplation, a reflection of time and dedication.
It is transformed into objects that evoke both the raw chaotic order of the Earth and the machinations of human curiosity and intention.
Electrolysis, widely used in industrial metal recycling to reclaim and purify metals from waste, becomes a medium for sculpture in my hands. By immersing my work in an electrolyte bath and passing a low electrical current through it, scrap off-cuts are consumed, refined and grown into crystalline structures of pure elemental copper on the vessel’s surface over many months. This technique echoes the natural formation of native copper crystals found in the Earth’s crust, slowly growing under immense geological time and pressure. Where the industrial process seeks efficiency and uniformity, I embrace the unpredictable beauty of nature. Each crystal blooms uniquely and slowly, its delicate formations celebrating nature’s artistry while nodding to the industrial processes of the material.
Through this transformation, the copper takes on a dual identity: one part human intention, another part natural emergence. What begins as discarded material is reclaimed,
re-imagined, and elevated. It is transformed into objects that evoke both the raw chaotic order of the Earth and the machinations of human curiosity and intention.
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