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Visiting Peter Lanyon

Writer's picture: Ivon HaywooodIvon Haywoood

Updated: Dec 16, 2022

Peter Lanyon’s workshop is emblematic of him, it’s quiet, calm and has lots of charm. Hidden near Plymouth, amongst the winding roads, trapped by hedgerow, just 10 minutes from the coast.


You first realize you are in the vicinity of a woodworker because there is a spread of shave-horses and chopping-blocks with a carpet of thick curly shavings on the floor. A set of double doors pull you into the old barn that he occupies, the first room is filled with finished work, a large glass table with steam-bent legs trap a 7 limbed lamp like mushrooms in the corner. I walked through another set of doors and into the heart of his workspace, the ceiling and walls were draped with steam-bent components ready for use, racks held chair legs and shelves held lumber. An arsenal of draw knives, axes and froes peppered the space, all ready to be used by the next students.


In one room there were at least 4 trees under stick drying out. In the other, machinery sat dormant waiting for the moment that Peter needs the noise and haste of electricity.

Peters practice employs processes that are seldom used in the contemporary world of furniture making. In fact, it’s rare that you would find a saving horse in a modern workshop at all. They are often reserved for the enthusiastic green-woodworker or the traditional Windsor chair maker, of which Peter is neither, but instead, his furniture has a presence in the contemporary, the forms he produces often owe themselves to the nature of the material and the process, but not without refinement to achieve sculptural form. He and his furniture are well respected by those in the industry, Because people know how hard it is to make a name for yourself in wood-work, but Peter has gone that bit further and found his niche in an aesthetic that comes from cleft or steam-bent timber finished and sculpted with spokeshaves and travisher’s to make best use of the natural forms and textures that lie within the wood and come from the tool edge, a methodology that is considered slow in our fast-paced culture. He makes tables, chairs and lamps that all pull from a practice rooted in tradition but designed and refined to look at home in a modern house. His work looks very natural and strikes a simplistic edge, but on closer inspection it is very well finished, with exceptional joinery that only comes from experience. Talking to him about his work you get a clear insight into the amount of care and attention that he gives each piece, he uses a careful eye.


We spoke about his history in the industry, having come from Rycotewood school of furniture where he studied at the age of 30. He spent time chasing work fitting furniture or kitchens and doing commissions. But it took one break away client to help him move into his own practice and aesthetic making free-standing furniture.

He's been sustaining his own practice for 12 years now, so I asked what it’s like trying to capture and keep the conviction to work every day, consistently. He openly admitted that feelings of imposter syndrome or self-doubt are common and real. There’s no secret bit of advice on how to persist, other than the need to work to survive, but his insight; over time and through experience these feelings will diminish, especially if one is to expose themselves to the market, put yourself out there into the craft festivals and the exhibitions. Allow yourself to be confronted by the audience's feedback, and there will be good feedback, and eventually, that good feedback will start to take hold in your own conception of your own practice, and you will start to believe it. The phrase ‘being in it for the long haul’ came up a lot. On the second day of my visit, Pete turned to me and asked if I’d like to have a go at using a shave-horse. It was summer solstice; the sun was out in full force and of course I welcomed the invitation. So, we grabbed some tools and started bodging. He picked up the froe and axe and in no longer than 7 minutes he had split and chopped a limb of timber into 3 stathe's, debarked one and removed the corners ready for the shave-horse. With a smooth, calm and efficient pace, he demonstrated how he would prepare a table leg on the shave-horse, then left me to my own devices. The sun beat down on me as copied his tuition and aimed to achieve the same results, birds fluttered in and out of the hedges beside me. The timber was wet in the middle but dry on the outside, I could feel the difference in resistance on the tool as I pulled curly thick shavings from the workpiece, adding to the crunchy wooden carpet beneath my feet. When I finished, he pulled a small board of sweet chestnut, passed me a spoke-shave and a brand-new travisher made by James Mursell, and pointed at an example of a 'bible-edge' finish he makes on his tables, and I got to work. Chestnut is referred to as the poor-mans oak, but Pete is correct for celebrating it the way he does. It receives tools brilliantly and is impossibly light. I finished both faces with the travisher, trying to mimic Pete’s textural finish. Then worked on trying to make that bible edge finish. Working amongst the bushes and hedgerows, with kites swerving above, and a vista of fields in the distance, using age-old tools and techniques on one of the warmest days of the year was an experience one might dream up in a tale, it felt surreal like I was living in a romantic depiction of Geppetto.


He smiled when I told him that I need to include more of these processes in my practice. Pete has spent his career fostering and maintaining this kind of work, never letting go of the processes that he loves most about woodwork. He finds delight in the noise of splitting and the pull of the knife. I think that we should all give homage to the elements of our practice that we love to perform, because these processes embody more of ourselves this way, they come via our hand; they encompass more of our passion and it comes through in the finished product as something we can be proud of, something we are happy to share and are thankful to exercise. Visiting Peter I felt welcomed by he and his family’s hospitality, from the moment I met him at the craft fair I knew he was a kind and genuine person. He doesn’t seem to strive for high success but has achieved it through his genuine intrigue about his craft. The poem Desiderata comes to mind ‘keep interested in your own career, however humbler; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time’


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