Needham spoon carver Steve Clark slid into sloyd during COVID’s months of isolation. A back-end analytics professional by day and a longtime woodworking hobbyist, Clark needed something new to occupy his mind and his hands while so much of life was on hold, and when he learned that spoon carving was part of a Scandinavian handicraft education practice called “sloyd”, he was hooked.
Now he can create a spoon in about an hour, starting with hardwoods he collects from Needham tree trimming projects.
“I was walking my dog during the pandemic and saw these trees coming down and the beautiful trees around town. And so instead of doom scrolling, I found a couple people online that were carving spoons. I’m like, that’s interesting. And just thought I’d give it a try. I probably made and gave away 300 spoons during the pandemic, just as a way to connect with people.”
Clark’s unfinished basement on Bird’s Hill Avenue is his workshop. There are tables for cutting, carving and finishing, a rack where spoons dry after being carved, and orange buckets for scrap wood, which he offers as kindling. It’s well-stocked with power woodworking equipment, little of which gets used as he creates a spoon. Instead, he starts with an ax and a mallet to divide a log into slats. He uses freshly cut wood — still all from Needham trees — which he said slices and peels more easily than dried. One of the ways he tells wood is fresh is whether it’s cool to the touch from moisture.
He cuts the rough shape of the spoon either with an ax or with a band saw — the one power tool he uses — then pares away wood with a spokeshave, a small, two-handled tool with a sharp blade. His other primary tools are a “sloyd knife” for carving the outer edges and a u-shaped hook knife that he uses to carve out the bowl of the spoon. The sharp knives create all the surfaces of the spoon. Clark does not sand his spoons, instead he smooths the knife cuts with a river rock then coats them with a food-safe mixture of oil and beeswax to seal the wood and create a finish.
Clark’s more decorative spoons use another Scandinavian technique called “kolrosing.” He cuts the pattern into the wood and rubs cinnamon into the fine lines to define them (originalists would use coal dust).
It’s delicate work and easy to get wrong. “That’s what the orange buckets are for,” Clark said, laughing. “Woodworking is probably 30% skill and 70% knowing how to fix your mistakes.”
But there’s an upside: “Unlike a piece of furniture which takes weeks to make, you get the full cycle of accomplishment in an hour.”
Now, years after COVID, the spoons keep coming. Clark has turned his diversion into a side gig, selling spoons online and through some retailers, including Needham’s Pura Vida store. His family has been supportive, he said, with one caveat: “We have the drawer of misfit spoons in the kitchen,” Clark said. “Just this afternoon, my wife said, ‘Hey, can I get a spoon without a hole in it?’”
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