First State Flag pole emblem image by bI got to thinking about this when I was removing the stops from one of original exterior doorways in my house.  There it was, a marking, confirming the existence of some other person, perhaps a carpenter . . . 79 ¾” — written so neatly.  And then, there, on the opposite side of that same doorway and not surprisingly of course (since I live in a pretty old house and things have shimmied and shifted), a whole different set of numbers . . . written — 79 ¼”.

I am referring to the practice of marking (often with a carpenter’s pencil) the location or a piece of stock, with measurements.  And yes, maybe these traces were left by a savvy homeowning handyman and not a professional carpenter.

Now, I know for myself these types of sightings almost invariably cause me to pause.  Hmmm,” I wonder, “Should I maybe think about leaving something a little extra behind . . . when I go to re-install this trim?”  You know . . . something to say, “Kilroy was Here.”  But that, of course, would simply be, well . . . silly.  It would need to say something, instead, like — “jb was here.”  And with equal certainty, I almost always forget . . . when the time for re-install arrives.

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Concrete Detail by Richard Holschuh logo and stampAs if it is reserved only for fabricators.  You know — the act of marking or signing one’s work.  The first image that pops into mind for me; I can’t avoid it — the clean crisp stamp of the concrete man in a freshly-poured drive or . . . other making.  (And . . . how is that for a near permanent advertisement?  Just there, working year after year saying, “Hey, We did this!”)

Manufacturers of bathroom fixtures inconspicuously stamp locations on tubs and toilets.  Quality control marks Romex cable, and the tops or bottoms of doors are even printed with some sign telling us of when a panel was produced. In these cases, they serve practical purpose; they give us a time line, a method for carbon dating.

But I am really not talking about dating here.  This reverie, the whole idea, and not to delve too deeply down this path, takes me back to a time in my first house.  We were removing the sheet paneling from the living room walls, and there on a plastered surface . . .

I am trying now to pick my brain for other fantastic finds, and I really can’t recall many others right now.  And I have had my opportunities; I have worked in some old houses.  Well, of course, there was the stack of stainless straight-edge razor blades that were disposed of in the appropriately-marked slot in a bathroom wall, and there was wallpaper backed with newsprint, and there was and so on . . . . And . . . oh yes, below that paneling written very sloppily, “Mary Jane Ellen Lobowski – I will love you for always (or something like that).” Signed by someone named Frank (or something like that) — “05/26/74.”

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So . . . I guess my  question really is — for the doers of the world and whether it is done professionally or not . . . . Do you sign your work?  I mean — as a trim man, say, you are not applying a placard or an etching, and how then do you do it?  Either that or tell me about some of your amazing finds.  Please leave a comment below.

Thank you for reading and BMoxie BMore!

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For a moment, consider that signing one’s work goes without thought.  Now . . . consider this below provided by VT-based artisan, Richard Holschuh (don’t ask me how to pronounce it) –  his company Concrete Detail.  When I asked him about his stamp, he offered this reply.  (These decisions, as part of brand, are not taken lightly . . . and rightly so.  In a way, art in itself.)  Thank you a ton, Rich.

“. . . It is a bas-relief of our logo: a positive/negative, symmetrical puzzle piece of the C and D from our name, Concrete Detail. I really like the logo design, as it suggests the very essence of concrete casting, a perfect reproduction, mirrored image of the form in which it is placed. It also symbolizes the intertwining of artist and client, and artisan and medium, in a collaboration, working in tandem. We designed this graphic specifically to work well in three-dimensions, as a stepped relief on a single background concrete color, and to function just as well as a printed logo/brand, in simple black and white on paper in two dimensions.

The stamp is literally a custom rubber stamp, from an office supply house, affixed inside the form and cast into the edge of every original piece we create. We are concrete artists and believe that both we and our clients deserve to have attribution given, tastefully displayed, and permanently celebrated (As well as responsibility assumed!).”

And an Aside

Least I let the opportunity for this pass:  For the record — I use jb not JB when signing almost everything I do online . . . and it is really not as well thought out as Rich’s statement above.

As an English major, yes, I was a fan of ee cummings. He is most widely known for the use of the lower case as well as for a general lack of punctuation in his writing.  It is believed (I have heard though never confirmed) that this convention evolved from his early tendency to sign his name in lower case.  It was said that he did this out of respect to the editors who were charged with reviewing his work.  So A, yes, I use it partially as a sign of humility. I am after all a new kid on the block, with still much to learn.

As for B, the convention for me had to do, too, with the advent of the electronic medium. As John Bernard Bartkowiak, III — I truthfully was not surprised to find that “JB Bartkowiak” in a way had already been claimed. My dad, an attorney was using it already in some online directories.  I acquiesced and chose to go instead with jb – plus, some fonts, IMO, just look better in lower case. It was an easy decision to go with jb, and I do prefer it.