Battle Elephant: An Epic in Ebony

Visiting with our artist friends down in Venice last weekend, the discussion turned to my work with wood and how I acquire some of my stock. I search garage sales, thrifts stores and the side of the road for unwanted, broken, ugly pieces of furniture and such that has interesting color and grain pattern. I rescue it from almost certain demise and give it a new life as a token, a memento of affection that will last for years to come.

Frances Smith, the artist, remembered an ebony elephant that she had tucked away in her vast stores of treasures. A wonderful gift from a truly talented friend. It had been in her family for at least 70 years. It's origin is unknown, but with this posting I hope to get a little insight from readers responses.

The first impression, was of weight. I carried it to the truck on our departure, not really looking at it as this artist can carry on three or four conversations at a time, and we were discussing something else.

When I next saw it, I had removed it from our truck at home and set it in the carport. I saw then that it stood on four sound legs, its trunk was intact, broken ears, tusks (ivory?) missing, a huge crack from curing over the last 70+ years, and non-professional repairs that have remained together, albeit not very attractive.

The next day I took it to the workbench and started to clean and examine where the screws and any other hardware might hide as, at this point, I was still intending to cut it up to use in my smallish woodstuffs. Ebony is hard enough on equipment without ruining a blade on the always elusive nail.

As I was dabbing mineral spirits on it and removing the grime, it started talking to me. Its history had been a hard one. Fraught with extremes of climate, intercontinental journeys, war in the play of the incorrigible child. It had fought off rats, insects, dogs, and borne weights of junk piled atop it. Its wounds treated, one at a time, with the most available repair remedies. Her scars show screws, glue and Bondo of time.

Yet, still she stands, mostly there. All vitals intact. A veteran of the 20th century (perhaps part of the 19th). Her 32 pounds never varying through feast or famine. Her smile now a little wryer and knowing.

After her bath, I scraped the paint spatterings, excess glue, crud, plastic fillers and scratches then lightly sanded with 600 grit paper.

I coated her with a very thin linseed oil/mineral spirit mixture then buffed her down with caranuba wax.

She now guards the entrance to our back porch and can enjoy her retirement in a peaceful environment, amidst gentle kitties and admiring humans.

Peace in Wood,
Scott