The Village Blacksmith
Ian Thackray is one of a dying breed of traditional blacksmiths. At a time when everyone is wondering when artificial intelligence will take their job, I can’t imagine it will ever replace Ian.
The traditional forge is nestled in the centre of the village and the senses awaken as you walk towards the door to be greeted by Ian and his dog. First the sulphurous tang of the coals, sharp and reminiscent of my grandparents’ kitchen; then the hot, mineral smell of steel being pushed to its limits. It's the kind of smell that gets into your clothes and stays with you for the drive home. It’s the kind of smell that speaks of honest, hard work and toil.
I spent the morning photographing Ian, who has been working metal here on the Wiltshire–Dorset border since the early 2000s. Personally, I’m in awe of anyone that keeps these traditional ways of working alive. We live in an era of throw-away, in part because stuff just isn’t built and crafted properly anymore, so it’s great to see that Ian’s business is thriving because there are those who want things that are built to last.
Whilst I was visiting Ian was working on a commission for Corfe Castle, crafting and putting together some form of railing.
What struck me most was the rhythm. The hammer falls in a steady, unhurried beat, ringing off the anvil like a metronome, and Ian works completely inside it. He barely speaks. His attention is on the colour of the steel, the moment it's ready, the exact angle of each blow. This isn’t something you can rush. The metal takes time to heat up, there is only so much manipulation you can do before it cools again. In a world of instant gratification and growing impatience, it’s a tonic to witness someone who work with a material that simply won’t be rushed.
Watching plain lengths of steel turn into something graceful, whether a curve, a twist or a hole that wasn’t there before, is a quiet kind of magic. There's no shortcut and no undo button. It takes patience, judgement and years of practice held in a pair of hands.
