An old timer told me I was striking too hard 3 years ago - completely changed my forging

I was at a hammer-in down in Asheville about 3 years ago, showing off some leaves I was making. This old guy, must have been 70 if he was a day, just watched me for a minute and said "you're fighting the steel instead of talking to it." I didn't get it at first (I was young and stubborn, you know). He showed me how he barely lifted his hammer more than 6 inches off the anvil, just letting gravity and the bounce do most of the work. I tried his way on a billet and my arm didn't feel like jelly after 20 minutes. Now I focus on timing and rhythm instead of brute force. Has anyone else had one of those little tips that completely rearranged how you work at the anvil?

2 comments

2 Comments

christopher_singh922d ago

Man that gravity trick is the real deal. I used to swing like I was driving fence posts until a buddy timed me and showed I was lifting the hammer almost to my ear every hit. Soon as I shortened that arc to about 8 inches and let the hammer drop on its own, my control got way better and I could work twice as long. Also learned to pay attention to the rebound off the anvil, if you fight that bounce you're just wasting energy. Now I treat each strike like a little conversation with the steel, tap tap tap instead of WHAM WHAM. Small adjustment but it made me a totally different smith in about a month.

palmer.ryan1d ago

Oh man, that tapping vs whamming thing clicked for me too when I stopped trying to muscle every blow. I used to get so locked into this rhythm where I'd overswing and the steel would just flatten out all wrong, no shape to it. One day I forced myself to only use the hammer's own weight on some curls for fireplace tools and suddenly I felt every single dent I was making, like I could see the steel moving instead of just pounding it flat. That rebound thing you mentioned is huge too, I swear once I started riding that bounce instead of fighting it my hammer just started talking back to me a little, telling me when to hit again and when to let it rest. It's wild how such a simple shift in thinking makes your hands know what to do without your brain getting in the way.