DEL MARTIN
THAT USED TO BE GREASE on his face and clothing, and now it’s soot. This garage of his in the village of Monterey used to be his car repair business, and now it’s his blacksmith shop. Six years ago, Del Martin had finally had enough. Gone are the days when half his body and most of his life were spent swallowed by broken machines, many of which, he had come to determine, were poorly built on purpose, disposable by nature. Now, the metallic ping-ping-ping of his handmade hammers echoes through the village, summoning the spirits of old ways and better craftsmanship. In an age dominated by cheap, massproduced goods, Martin’s mini revolution unfolds on the floor of this shop, festooned with tongs, anvils, presses, belt sanders, and any number of steel apparatus containing menacing volcanic activity.
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THE B • Fall 2023
Martin’s Colonial-inspired creations, including candle stands, fireplace tools, floor lamps, and garden gates, are cherished by customers around the country. But his knives, made of high-carbon steel, have garnered the most attention. Chefs use them to fillet fish and to finely chop fresh herbs. Hunters use them to clean deer. Gardeners and outdoorspeople use them for a myriad of tasks. For Martin, knives are the perfect blend of art and function. He begins with a steel plate, cut to a given knife-shaped dimension. He heats it, hammers it, carefully cools it, bevels it, and polishes it. He equips each with a handle he’s made from locally sourced oak, cherry, maple, or birch—shaped, fitted, dyed, and epoxied for both functionality and aesthetics. He stitches the leather sheaths himself. Each knife, he said, is a “little sculpture
that looks great, feels great, and does something really useful.” Martin, a captain on the Monterey Fire Company, earned his master’s degree in structural geology. A caver, Eagle Scout, and woodsman, he began his earnest study of blacksmithing and metallurgy 22 years ago. In 2017, he replaced that Del Martin Automotive sign with Knox Trail Forge, paying homage to the history and rebellion that trundled past this spot a couple of centuries ago when farmers, farriers, and woodsmen hauled artillery by the tonnage from Lake Champlain to Boston, in the successful effort to found a new nation. Holding up a finally polished knife, beveled to perfection, Martin said, “Way cooler than a brake job on a Subaru, right?” B
PH OTOS: STEPH ANIE ZOLLSHAN
THE BLACKSMITH