a chapter draft
Feb. 19th, 2023 08:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kareinaFriday I was having some issues with the program I use for data processing, so, while waiting for their support people to reply to my email I started writing the chapter of my thesis on the experimental part of my research on Viking Age Steatite (soapstone). They got back to me later that day, but I had come far enough along I finished the chapter yesterday. I thought some of my friends might enjoy reading it, so I will post it here. If you have any feedback for places it needs clarification or something, feel free to share. I will put it under a cut, as it is 4,870 words not counting references, but there are photos, so some of you might want to peak, even if you don't read it.
4. Carving Steatite
From my first introduction to steatite artefacts, I have been fascinated with the objects themselves and how they came to be. What is the process for carving a pot? How does this differ from making a bellows stone for a forge? What can learning the process of stone carving teach me of the value of the artefacts, both for the crafts-person who made them, and for the people who used them in their daily life?
Stone is a durable object. It can be broken into smaller pieces, but it is difficult to truly destroy. This durability has long contributed to its value as resource. Steatite, as discussed in section 2.1.4, is the stone which is easiest to carve, but what, exactly, does “easy” mean in this context, and how does the process of shaping the stone contribute to the value of the object?
My introduction to stone carving was through a visit, in 2018, to the Nidaros Cathedral Restoration Workshop, in Trondheim, Norway, where Eva Stavsøien introduced me to the techniques for carving steatite cooking vessels, that she wrote about in her Bachelor’s thesis (Stavsøien 2012). Before we discussed the steatite cooking vessels she showed me a little of what they are doing to restore Nidaros Cathedral, which was built between 1030 and 1328 CE, and has undergone periods of restoration to replace damaged stone periodically since 1869 (Storemyr 1997). They remove damaged blocks Figure 4-1A, top block, and carve a new block with decorations that match what the original must have looked like Figure 4-1A, bottom block before installing the new block in place.
4.1. My introduction to stone-carving
They provided me with a 30 x 15 cm octagonal steatite block, with all surfaces smooth and planar. Its top and bottom surfaces are parallel to one another, and the sides are perpendicular to the top and bottom surfaces, and 45○ from one another (Figure 4-1B).
Note that they have power tools on site to cut the very large steatite blocks needed for the cathedral restoration. Therefore, it is likely that they used these to cut my octagon block off from one of their larger blocks, which accounts for the smooth initial starting surfaces. It is possible to achieve such a smooth steatite surface through the use of hand tools and polishing, but that wouldn’t be an efficient use of time to prepare a block to teach a beginner. As a result, I did not learn the historic techniques needed to split a large block into a more manageable size during this visit. I also have no experience in techniques used for taking the stone out of the quarry in the first place, though she mentioned her own experiments in that stage of the production (Stavsøien 2017).
She first demonstrated her geometrical approach for laying out the guidelines; a marking gauge is used to draw a line bisecting the perimeter of the stone, and inner and outer edge circles are drawn on what will become the top of the vessel (Figure 4-1B). Those guidelines are used to mark boundary lines before cutting away corners, first with a hammer and chisel, gently and carefully along the marked edges, to define the line, then with stronger blows to chip away larger chunks of stone from the corner itself (Figure 4-1C, D & E). Finally, using a special stone dressing axe, with a very flat striking surface, perpendicular to the handle, used to transform any bits of stone which are raised with respect to the plane of the desired surface into powder. With repeated application of all three approaches new planar surfaces appear on the stone, which can then be marked with lines to guide the removal of the next set of corners. Figure 4-1F shows me making progress in the early stages of carving my steatite cooking vessel. Figure 4-1H shows one of Eva Stavsøien’s steatite cooking vessels, which on display in the workshop entry area, as well as a portion of Figure 43 from Forster (2004), wherein bowl shape #7 matches both Eva Stavsøien’s steatite cooking vessel and the goal for the one I am carving: a round bottom pot with straight sides, and a smooth surface, both inside and out.
click here for figure 4-1
4.2. Carving a full-sized steatite cooking vessel
That initial stone carving workshop visit was enough to get me started, but there was only time during that session to remove the first few corners of my vessel-to-be, so they explained how to continue on my own, and I returned home.
My first order of business was to obtain my own tools. Chisels are easily obtained at any local hardware store, but the special stone dressing axe wasn’t. Therefore, I approached blacksmith Jörgen Öhman, and he made me one (Figure 4-2A, B, C). He even added a feature which wasn’t present on the tool I had used at Nidaros; he set up the back end of the axe head to serve as a hammer for the chisel work, which simplifies my work flow—no need to change tools, just rotate it in my hand.
Stone carving being messy work, I have opted to only work on the project outdoors, which, in northern Sweden, also means “only during the summer months”, and, usually, during one of the local historical recreation events, this being an unusual project, guaranteed to attract interested questions. As a result, my initial progress has been slow, and some weeks of actual carving time elapsed before I managed to remove all the corners to round and smooth the entire outer surface (Figure 4-2D) and be ready to begin hollowing out the inside, one slow spiral inwards at a time (Figure 4-2E, F, G).
Note: Eva Stavsøien explained why she recommends carving the outer surface first. If one hollows out the inside of the vessel first, and then begins carving the outside, with the opening resting on a workbench, there is a very different quality to the sound produced by every blow of the hammer against chisel against stone. It takes on a hollow echoing reverberation that sounds like the stone is about to break in pieces.
While Stavsøien (2017) has photos of the interior chisel work being done perpendicular to the edge of the vessel, I chose the spiral approach visible in figures 25-27 of Skjølsvold (1961), in part for the beauty of the pattern while the work is in progress, and in part because it seems like a good approach to achieve a reasonable level of symmetry, as it is possible to start the first groove at a random point at the inner edge and follow a gently curving arc towards the centre point. Then rotate the pot 180○ degrees and do another groove, with the same degree of curvature from the edge to the centre. From there rotate the bowl 90○ degrees, and work another curve, half way between its neighbours. Continue rotating the pot and adding a new curve half-way between the two adjacent curves, until there isn’t room to add any more. At that point a gently curved chisel is used to break away the ridges between the curves, the surface is smoothed, and a new series of curves are carved in.
Smoothing that interior surface was challenging, at first. On the exterior of the vessel I had used my special stone dressing tool (Figure 4-2A, B, C) to make smooth, planar surfaces at the base where each corner had been removed. However, given the curve of the vessel, that approach proved impossible for the inner surface—the blade will come into contact only with the bottom of the vessel, at the corner of the blade, leaving small chips and dents. Therefore, I spoke with blacksmith Jörgen Öhman about making a new stone dressing axe with the same curve as the inside of the vessel will have when complete, and he suggested that I make a paper template of the required curve, which I did. However, before he had a chance to get to the forge to make the new tool we visited a second hand store, where we found an old axe, with a textured hammer for meat tenderising on one side, and a curved blade on the other which looked about right for the job (Figure 4-2G). When we later compared the new, curved stone dressing tool with the prepared paper template it had the exact same curve as I had calculated would be required, and, it works as well as I had hoped it would to powder those portions of the surface that protrude, resulting in a new, smooth interior surface upon which to start the next series of curved chisel lines.
click here for figure 4-2
4.3. Carving a miniature steatite cooking vessel
The large steatite cooking vessel in progress is, when approached on a hobby basis, a long-term project. Therefore, when one of my friends shared photos of the Viking Age tent camp, clothing, and accessories she had made for her hand-made dolls Figure 4-3A, B, I was inspired to make a little miniature cooking vessel for the dolls Figure 4-3C, D. In the process of carving away the corners of the large cooking vessel I had removed a number of chips which measure in excess of a couple of centimetres, which seemed to be a good scale for the doll’s camp accessory.
I had recently examined the steatite collection at the Arjeplog Silvermuseet (Section 3.3.1.), which includes a number of pot legs or handles, such as the one in Figure 4-3E, which inspired me to make the doll’s cooking pot with tripod legs, so that it would be able to stand over the coals of their “cook fire”.
The final pot measures ~1 cm in diameter, and, including the legs, stands ~2 cm tall. This was a very rewarding project, in part because I was able to start and complete the project in a single day, as well as appreciating the aesthetics of the finished project, especially in the context of the doll’s environment. It was also fascinating to see how much darker the stone became when I oiled it.
click here for figure 4-3
4.4. Carving steatite fishing accessories
The scale for the miniature steatite cooking vessel project having been satisfying, I decided to try carving some Stone Age style fishing accessories, after those of Bergsvik (2017), for Jörgen Öhman, who is an avid fisher. This made a good thank you gift for making the stone dressing axe for me. The fishing line sinker I made (Figure 4-4A, F), was inspired by that shown in Figure 4-4B (figure B copied from Figure 13 of Bergsvik 2017). The two fishing hooks I made (Figure 4-4C, E) were inspired by those shown in the adjacent Figure (4-4D, copied from Figure 9 of Bergsvik 2017).
Working in such a small scale has very different challenges than carving a large pot. I found it easier to do much of the shaping for the hooks using a stout length of twisted wire as a file, to remove thin layers of rock powder, rather than cutting with a knife to remove chips. Using a chisel at this scale was not feasible. When my first try at a fish hook broke as I worked it, (Figure 4-4C), I saw that the result was very similar to several of the surviving artefacts in (Figure 4-4D), and I can’t help but wonder how many of those broke during the carving process, and how many broke under use?
click here for figure 4-4
4.5. Carving a small steatite cooking vessel
Not long after I finished my miniature steatite cooking vessel I saw a small steatite pot, which a friend has hanging in their sauna, intended to hold essential oils. The very same day another friend gifted me with a few blocks of steatite, one of which was of a size with my friend’s small pot, ~9 cm wide, ~8 cm tall. Therefore, I had to try. The first few steps, removing the corners from the bottom, and rounding it to a smooth surface, beginning to set in a channel between the base and the rim, and starting the first bit of carving into the top was done in only a one hour session (Figure 4-5A). I knew that working on a smaller scale would go faster than the large block, but I was quite surprised at how much faster the outer surface was to finish. However, the inner surface of this vessel tuned out to be more challenging than I had anticipated. At fist I was able to work with hammer and chisel to spiral groves in towards the centre (Figure 4-5B), exactly as I was doing with the large steatite cooking vessel in progress.
However, since this pot is intended to be deeper than it is wide (Figure 4-5C), it quickly became very difficult to work on the inner surface with the chisel. I tried using a file, but the files I had on hand were not a good shape for working inside this pot. Therefore I set the project aside for a few month, picking it up again only after I got access to a hand-forged, long handled lathe tool, normally used for woodworking, for carving the interior of cups and bowls (Figure 4-5D). This worked very well, thought it felt a bit disturbing knowing that I was using a wood working tool on stone, even though steatite is softer than some woods.
While the pot that had inspired this one was meant to hang from a chain and be a decorative holder for essential oils, I am thinking that mine will be used for cooking a single serving of food, or perhaps a sauce. But how to set such a tiny pot into and out of the fire? Once again, my blacksmith, Jörgen Öhman, provided the solution, forging a set of tongs curved to the correct diameter to hold the small pot (Figure 4-5E). I have covered the griping end of the tongs with hand spun yarn, applied using nålbindnin techniques. (See https://www.en.neulakintaat.fi/ for the best introduction to doing nålbindning that I have seen.)
click here for figure 4-5
4.6. Attempt at a steatite needle
Since I am fond of nålbindning, and my attempts at making steatite fishing hooks had gone well, and I had on hand a bit of long, narrow scrap stone that appears to have come from the edge of a stone frame, such as one might see in a memorial site (Figure 4-6A), I decided to try making a steatite needle. Step one, using a modern drill bit, but twirling it with only my fingers, to put a hole through one end of the stone, worked very well (Figure 4-6B). The initial shaping to a tapered length using files (no hammer and chisel needed for projects on this scale!), also went very quickly (Figure 4-6C).
However, I could also see a bit of a potential issue--the stone I was starting with is very rich in pyrrhotite inclusions (see the rusty orange spots on the stone in Figure 4-6A). While my employer was uncertain where this steatite had been obtained, I suspect Grunnes quarry, which is located only a five-hour drive from where I was working at the time, and is reported in the Norwegian NaturalStone database as having a problem with rusty discolorations from the pyrrhotite inclusions it contains. Another potential source would be Grytdal quarry, which had been used during the 19th Century restoration of Nidaros Cathedral, but which stones they are now actively replacing because of the rusty brown discoloration from the rust leaching out of the pyrrhotite inclusions, and the tendency of the stone to crumble where those ubiquitous inclusions are weathering out (Klem 2018).
However, a needle is a tool normally used indoors, and not exposed to the weather, so I was hopeful that there wouldn't be an issue with phyrrhotite rusting in the needle, and I choose a length that had fewer visible phyrrhotite inclusions (Figure 4-6B) than typical for this stone. Unfortunately, the phyrrhotite inclusions in this stone are densely distributed throughout the stone, and some of them are as broad as the needle itself (4 to 8 mm). While steatite is a rock type that is very good at holding together in the large scale, when one reduces it down to this width it soon becomes apparent that the bonding between the talc-chlorite-carbonate matrix and the phyrrhotite inclusions is not as strong as that between the matrix minerals themselves, and the needle broke at the junction between the phyrrhotite and the matrix, in two places (Figure 4-6C).
I would be very interested in trying to make another nålbindning needle from steatite, if I ever get access to a suitable size piece which is relatively low in accessory mineral inclusions. Note: my decision to try making a nålbindning needle in steatite was not influenced by the archaeological record. If there are any surviving examples of steatite nålbindning needles I have never seen mention of one. It was only the surviving fish hooks that made me wonder if it would work.
click here for figure 4-6
4.7. Working as a stone-carver at Lofotr Viking Museum
In the winter of 2019, I heard that the Lofotr Viking Museum, in Borg, Lofoten, northern Norway, would be hiring craftspeople for summer jobs, demonstrating Viking Age arts and crafts to visitors, and stone carving, was one of the options specifically mentioned. This sounded like a perfect summer job to compliment my research, so I applied, and was accepted to work the full summer of 2021. Alas, the pandemic re-closed the Norwegian border shortly before the season was to begin, and I was unable to take up the job. The following summer, 2022, I was again accepted to work, this time as a team, both my partner Jörgen, working as a blacksmith, and myself, working as a stone-carver (Figure 4-7). This was an amazing experience, both because it gave me an opportunity to work with stone on a daily basis, and because it gave me a chance to share my love of the craft, and my understanding of the importance of steatite for cooking vessels and other household objects during the Viking period, especially in Norway. On beautiful days it was possible to carve outdoors (Figure 4-7A), and the rest of the time I had a nice work station set up in the reconstructed longhouse (Figure 4-7B), in the end of the building that had originally been the barn, and thus acceptable for messy crafts such as stone and wood carving.
click here for figure 4-7
4.8. Splitting Stone
When I arrived at Lofotr I had, of course, brought with me my steatite pots in progress, and, for the first few days I was there, I worked on my own projects. However, since I was being paid as a stone carver, the museum prefers that I work on their stone, so that they can keep the finished product(s) for display to future visitors. This sounded reasonable to me, so I set about looking for appropriate tools with which to split the very large stone the museum had on hand (Figure 4-8), into reasonable size pieces with which to work. My partner, Jörgen, had previously split stone boulders that were too large to move during landscaping projects, so he volunteered to help. With other stone types the process is pretty straight forward, drill holes in the stone, then hammer in a metal wedge, and the stone, being brittle, will crack and split.
Steatite, on the other hand, being comprised primarily of very soft minerals, is not at all brittle. If one hits it it, it is more likely to dent than to break. Also, I wanted to start with square blocks, to make the museum a cooking vessel similar to the one I was already working on for myself (that was before we had found the steatite cooking pots that the museum had purchased years before, which are visible in the background of (Figure 4-7A). Therefore Jörgen first used an angle-grinder to cut an initial slit across the stone, marking where we wanted it to split. This generated a very large amount of steatite powder, and I cannot recommend doing this anywhere indoors, or even out of doors near anything you wish to keep clean. It is however, quite effective, and quickly cuts a line into the stone as deep as the blade of the grinder is deep (so ~4 or 5 cm).
Then we used a large drill bit to dill a line of holes along the length of that cut line, and begin hammering metal spikes into the holes (Figure 4-8A-B), eventually (and much longer than he expected it would take, given his experience with more brittle stones), the rock split along the line (Figure 4-8C), giving me a block roughly the same size as the one I began my stone carving experience with (Section 4.2). However, this new cooking vessel was a very different project, starting as it did with a rough-cut block, with sides that were neither perpendicular (other than the commercially produced top and bottom surfaces), nor smooth (since they had the drill holes we had produced on two sides, and the other two sides had also obviously been drilled (with an even wider drill bit than we had used) before splitting them.
However, I had only one day to begin working on the new steatite cooking vessel for the museum before the blacksmiths proposed a new project: a new, larger, stone for the forge, to stand against the hearth and protect the bellows from the heat of the fire.
click here for figure 4-8
4.9. The Loki Stone
When the forge at Lofotr Viking museum was first built they had one of their wood-carvers take a break from wood carving, and make them a forge stone for the hearth, patterned after the Snaptun stone (Glob 1959), which is embellished with one of the few known representations of the god Loki, drawn with his lips sewn shut, after trying, and failing, to outwit the smith, Sindri, which makes this design even more appropriate to sit directly in the fire of a smithy Gestsson 1961.
The museum’s original steatite forge stone, measuring ~40 cm long, is perfect for forging knives and smaller tools, and is so good at retaining heat that, after a full day working in the forge, the smiths report that the following morning the bellows stone was always still warm to the touch. The "hot spot" in the forge fire, just in front of the bellows stone, where the air comes through, where the fire is at its hottest temperature, and is thus best for heating the metal to an appropriate temperature for working it, was typicality about 10 to 15 cm long with the original bellows stone, depending on how actively the bellows are pumped, but the maximum size of that hot spot with that stone was 30 cm (Hughes and Öhman 2022). However, the smiths, Rod Hughes, and Jörgen Öhman, wanted to build a replica of sword number 883 in Bergen's Museum (see Plate 1, sword 3 of Peirce 2002), using an authentic Viking style forge and no modern shortcuts. They feel that having a large soapstone bellows stone is important, as a larger hot spot is required to forge-weld sword-length metal layers together, and a larger stone will retain more heat, and thus permit a larger hot-spot.
Therefore, I abandoned my plans to complete a set of steatite cooking vessels and begin working on a new, larger forge stone. Just has we had for the square blocks; we approached the initial splitting of the stone with the same technique described in section 4.8. above. The available steatite block was ~76 cm wide, so we separated a 70 x 76 cm rectangle from it, to carve into the forge stone.
However, that initial block (Figure 4-8), was roughly twice as thick as we needed it to be. Therefore, we needed it split it lengthwise, and the museum didn’t have a saw capable of such a cut. Therefore, we tried the same approach, of using the angle grinder to do a cut around the perimeter of the stone, and then drilled holes along the cut, and begin hammering in metal wedges in hopes that we could split the stone in two lengthwise segments. However, steatite is a soft stone, and does not split easily, and certainly not in the parts of the stone the drill bit was not long enough to reach. Instead, small chunks broke off of the edge next to the metal wedges, a bit at a time. It was possible to work our way gradually in, by breaking away stone all the way around the perimeter, then drilling a new series of holes and hammering in the wedges again to break off new bits of stone. However, each new set of drill holes needed to be located a little further from the mid-line of the stone due to the sloping nature of the breaking surface, and after the third pass around the perimeter it wasn’t possible to continue further with this approach (Figure 4-9A), and we decided that I should proceed with hammer and chisel whilst on duty during the days as a stone carver.
It took me just over 50 hours of carving, over 17 days, to first remove the excess dome from the centre of the stone (Figure 4-9B), fix some of the symmetry issues in the curve of the dome caused by not marking the line upon which the upper corners were removed, but only “eyeballing it” (Figure 4-9C), and then smooth the stone (final polish done with a nice, round, rock plucked from a riverbed) enough to draw Loki’s face (and his stitched-shut mouth) on to the stone with a bit of charcoal (Figure 4-9D), then use a fine pointed chisel to etch in the decorative lines (Figure 4-9E), before painting the lines with a hand-mixed paint of haematite powder and linseed oil, and using more linseed oil to oil and darken the entire surface of the stone (Figure 4-9F). There remains only the drilling of the hole through which the pipe from the bellows will go, and that can’t be done until the stone is installed in its forge, because its exact position will depend on how the stone sits with respect to everything else.
Unfortunately, we were unable to test the new stone directly after completion, as the smithy had burned down late one night that summer. Therefore, my forge stone is on display in the Longhouse, waiting until the new smithy is built, hopefully this summer. However, both smiths are confident that it will work exactly as they want it to.
click here for figure 4-9
4.10. What I have learned from carving steatite
Carving steatite takes time, but it is an enjoyable, and rewarding process. Smaller projects are not only more quickly done, they also bring an instant sense of accomplishment for being able mark them as complete so quickly, which is good for morale. However, the larger projects bring far more pride when they are complete.
The composition of the stone matters. Not only were the large (2-5 mm) pyrrhotite inclusions in the steatite the museum provided detrimental to the structural integrity of my stone needle, they also interfered with carving the details of Loki’s face, sometimes preventing the incised lines from going as deeply as intended, sometimes necessitating a slight diversion in the placement of the lines around a particularly large inclusion, sometimes dislodging an inclusion that was partially in the path of the incisions, and partly outside of it, resulting in a wider line segment than intended.
I don’t yet know how/if this stone, with its large percentage of pyrrhotite inclusions would affect cooking in a pot made from it. However, since the one I started last summer is roughly the same size as my personal steatite cooking pot, once they are both complete it will be possible to do cooking tests to see if there is any difference in the heat retention (how long will each pot keep water boiling after one removes it from the fire), and if there is any difference in flavour of food cooked in a pot which is rich in inclusions and one in which the inclusions are rare.
It is thought that steatite carving had evolved to an industry, and was a major export for Norway by the Viking Age Sindbæk 2013. I know from my own experience that it is easy enough for a beginner to pick it up, and produce usable items straight away, with a minimal of training. For a family living near a soapstone quarry it might be enough for one generation to make a set of cooking vessels that would last them for years, and only need to replace them if they were damaged, which could mean that the need to carve a replacement might come up only every other generation or so, and this wouldn’t be a problem in terms of having a perfectly functional replacement pot. However, working as a stone carver as a full-time job, even if only for one month over the summer, builds an immense amount of confidence in how to best work the stone to achieve the effect you want. I imagine that continuing with such work long term would enhance this effect, and likely contribute to the quality of the workmanship, thus increasing the value of the pots as commodities.
References
Bergsvik, K. A. (2017). Mesolithic soapstone line-sinkers in Western Norway: Chronology, acquisition, distribution, function and decoration. in Soapstone in the North. Quarries, Products and People 7000 BC - AD 1700. ed.: Gitte Hansen and P. Storemyr. University of Bergen Archaeological Series: 73-92.
Forster, A. K. (2004). Shetland and the Trade of Steatite Goods in the North Atlantic Region During the Viking and Early Medieval Period. Department of Archeological Sciences, University of Bradford. PhD: 396.
Gestsson, G. (1961). Billedstenen fra Snaptun. Kuml 11(11): 125-127.
Glob, P. (1959). Avlsten. Kuml 9(9): 69-83.
Hughes, R. and Öhman, J. (2022) Personal Communication.
Klem, J. (2018). Personal Communication.
Peirce, I. (2002). Swords of the Viking Age. Woodbridge, The Boydell Press.152 pp.
Sindbæk, S. M. (2013). Broken links and black boxes: material affiliations and contextual network synthesis in the Viking world. Network analysis in archaeology: New approaches to regional interaction: 71-94.
Skjølsvold, A. (1961). Klebersteinsindustrien i vikingtiden. Norveg 8: 1-162.
Stavsøien, E. (2012). From solid rock to cooking pot: Working with soapstone, - what is hiding in the process? BACHELOROPPGAVE BYG819T, Prosjektnr. 13-2012, Høgskolen Sør-Trøndelag.
Storemyr, P. (1997). The stones of Nidaros : an applied weathering study of Europe's northernmost medieval cathedral. Dept. of Architectural History. Trondheim, Norway Norwegian University of Science and Technology. PhD.
4. Carving Steatite
From my first introduction to steatite artefacts, I have been fascinated with the objects themselves and how they came to be. What is the process for carving a pot? How does this differ from making a bellows stone for a forge? What can learning the process of stone carving teach me of the value of the artefacts, both for the crafts-person who made them, and for the people who used them in their daily life?
Stone is a durable object. It can be broken into smaller pieces, but it is difficult to truly destroy. This durability has long contributed to its value as resource. Steatite, as discussed in section 2.1.4, is the stone which is easiest to carve, but what, exactly, does “easy” mean in this context, and how does the process of shaping the stone contribute to the value of the object?
My introduction to stone carving was through a visit, in 2018, to the Nidaros Cathedral Restoration Workshop, in Trondheim, Norway, where Eva Stavsøien introduced me to the techniques for carving steatite cooking vessels, that she wrote about in her Bachelor’s thesis (Stavsøien 2012). Before we discussed the steatite cooking vessels she showed me a little of what they are doing to restore Nidaros Cathedral, which was built between 1030 and 1328 CE, and has undergone periods of restoration to replace damaged stone periodically since 1869 (Storemyr 1997). They remove damaged blocks Figure 4-1A, top block, and carve a new block with decorations that match what the original must have looked like Figure 4-1A, bottom block before installing the new block in place.
4.1. My introduction to stone-carving
They provided me with a 30 x 15 cm octagonal steatite block, with all surfaces smooth and planar. Its top and bottom surfaces are parallel to one another, and the sides are perpendicular to the top and bottom surfaces, and 45○ from one another (Figure 4-1B).
Note that they have power tools on site to cut the very large steatite blocks needed for the cathedral restoration. Therefore, it is likely that they used these to cut my octagon block off from one of their larger blocks, which accounts for the smooth initial starting surfaces. It is possible to achieve such a smooth steatite surface through the use of hand tools and polishing, but that wouldn’t be an efficient use of time to prepare a block to teach a beginner. As a result, I did not learn the historic techniques needed to split a large block into a more manageable size during this visit. I also have no experience in techniques used for taking the stone out of the quarry in the first place, though she mentioned her own experiments in that stage of the production (Stavsøien 2017).
She first demonstrated her geometrical approach for laying out the guidelines; a marking gauge is used to draw a line bisecting the perimeter of the stone, and inner and outer edge circles are drawn on what will become the top of the vessel (Figure 4-1B). Those guidelines are used to mark boundary lines before cutting away corners, first with a hammer and chisel, gently and carefully along the marked edges, to define the line, then with stronger blows to chip away larger chunks of stone from the corner itself (Figure 4-1C, D & E). Finally, using a special stone dressing axe, with a very flat striking surface, perpendicular to the handle, used to transform any bits of stone which are raised with respect to the plane of the desired surface into powder. With repeated application of all three approaches new planar surfaces appear on the stone, which can then be marked with lines to guide the removal of the next set of corners. Figure 4-1F shows me making progress in the early stages of carving my steatite cooking vessel. Figure 4-1H shows one of Eva Stavsøien’s steatite cooking vessels, which on display in the workshop entry area, as well as a portion of Figure 43 from Forster (2004), wherein bowl shape #7 matches both Eva Stavsøien’s steatite cooking vessel and the goal for the one I am carving: a round bottom pot with straight sides, and a smooth surface, both inside and out.
click here for figure 4-1
4.2. Carving a full-sized steatite cooking vessel
That initial stone carving workshop visit was enough to get me started, but there was only time during that session to remove the first few corners of my vessel-to-be, so they explained how to continue on my own, and I returned home.
My first order of business was to obtain my own tools. Chisels are easily obtained at any local hardware store, but the special stone dressing axe wasn’t. Therefore, I approached blacksmith Jörgen Öhman, and he made me one (Figure 4-2A, B, C). He even added a feature which wasn’t present on the tool I had used at Nidaros; he set up the back end of the axe head to serve as a hammer for the chisel work, which simplifies my work flow—no need to change tools, just rotate it in my hand.
Stone carving being messy work, I have opted to only work on the project outdoors, which, in northern Sweden, also means “only during the summer months”, and, usually, during one of the local historical recreation events, this being an unusual project, guaranteed to attract interested questions. As a result, my initial progress has been slow, and some weeks of actual carving time elapsed before I managed to remove all the corners to round and smooth the entire outer surface (Figure 4-2D) and be ready to begin hollowing out the inside, one slow spiral inwards at a time (Figure 4-2E, F, G).
Note: Eva Stavsøien explained why she recommends carving the outer surface first. If one hollows out the inside of the vessel first, and then begins carving the outside, with the opening resting on a workbench, there is a very different quality to the sound produced by every blow of the hammer against chisel against stone. It takes on a hollow echoing reverberation that sounds like the stone is about to break in pieces.
While Stavsøien (2017) has photos of the interior chisel work being done perpendicular to the edge of the vessel, I chose the spiral approach visible in figures 25-27 of Skjølsvold (1961), in part for the beauty of the pattern while the work is in progress, and in part because it seems like a good approach to achieve a reasonable level of symmetry, as it is possible to start the first groove at a random point at the inner edge and follow a gently curving arc towards the centre point. Then rotate the pot 180○ degrees and do another groove, with the same degree of curvature from the edge to the centre. From there rotate the bowl 90○ degrees, and work another curve, half way between its neighbours. Continue rotating the pot and adding a new curve half-way between the two adjacent curves, until there isn’t room to add any more. At that point a gently curved chisel is used to break away the ridges between the curves, the surface is smoothed, and a new series of curves are carved in.
Smoothing that interior surface was challenging, at first. On the exterior of the vessel I had used my special stone dressing tool (Figure 4-2A, B, C) to make smooth, planar surfaces at the base where each corner had been removed. However, given the curve of the vessel, that approach proved impossible for the inner surface—the blade will come into contact only with the bottom of the vessel, at the corner of the blade, leaving small chips and dents. Therefore, I spoke with blacksmith Jörgen Öhman about making a new stone dressing axe with the same curve as the inside of the vessel will have when complete, and he suggested that I make a paper template of the required curve, which I did. However, before he had a chance to get to the forge to make the new tool we visited a second hand store, where we found an old axe, with a textured hammer for meat tenderising on one side, and a curved blade on the other which looked about right for the job (Figure 4-2G). When we later compared the new, curved stone dressing tool with the prepared paper template it had the exact same curve as I had calculated would be required, and, it works as well as I had hoped it would to powder those portions of the surface that protrude, resulting in a new, smooth interior surface upon which to start the next series of curved chisel lines.
click here for figure 4-2
4.3. Carving a miniature steatite cooking vessel
The large steatite cooking vessel in progress is, when approached on a hobby basis, a long-term project. Therefore, when one of my friends shared photos of the Viking Age tent camp, clothing, and accessories she had made for her hand-made dolls Figure 4-3A, B, I was inspired to make a little miniature cooking vessel for the dolls Figure 4-3C, D. In the process of carving away the corners of the large cooking vessel I had removed a number of chips which measure in excess of a couple of centimetres, which seemed to be a good scale for the doll’s camp accessory.
I had recently examined the steatite collection at the Arjeplog Silvermuseet (Section 3.3.1.), which includes a number of pot legs or handles, such as the one in Figure 4-3E, which inspired me to make the doll’s cooking pot with tripod legs, so that it would be able to stand over the coals of their “cook fire”.
The final pot measures ~1 cm in diameter, and, including the legs, stands ~2 cm tall. This was a very rewarding project, in part because I was able to start and complete the project in a single day, as well as appreciating the aesthetics of the finished project, especially in the context of the doll’s environment. It was also fascinating to see how much darker the stone became when I oiled it.
click here for figure 4-3
4.4. Carving steatite fishing accessories
The scale for the miniature steatite cooking vessel project having been satisfying, I decided to try carving some Stone Age style fishing accessories, after those of Bergsvik (2017), for Jörgen Öhman, who is an avid fisher. This made a good thank you gift for making the stone dressing axe for me. The fishing line sinker I made (Figure 4-4A, F), was inspired by that shown in Figure 4-4B (figure B copied from Figure 13 of Bergsvik 2017). The two fishing hooks I made (Figure 4-4C, E) were inspired by those shown in the adjacent Figure (4-4D, copied from Figure 9 of Bergsvik 2017).
Working in such a small scale has very different challenges than carving a large pot. I found it easier to do much of the shaping for the hooks using a stout length of twisted wire as a file, to remove thin layers of rock powder, rather than cutting with a knife to remove chips. Using a chisel at this scale was not feasible. When my first try at a fish hook broke as I worked it, (Figure 4-4C), I saw that the result was very similar to several of the surviving artefacts in (Figure 4-4D), and I can’t help but wonder how many of those broke during the carving process, and how many broke under use?
click here for figure 4-4
4.5. Carving a small steatite cooking vessel
Not long after I finished my miniature steatite cooking vessel I saw a small steatite pot, which a friend has hanging in their sauna, intended to hold essential oils. The very same day another friend gifted me with a few blocks of steatite, one of which was of a size with my friend’s small pot, ~9 cm wide, ~8 cm tall. Therefore, I had to try. The first few steps, removing the corners from the bottom, and rounding it to a smooth surface, beginning to set in a channel between the base and the rim, and starting the first bit of carving into the top was done in only a one hour session (Figure 4-5A). I knew that working on a smaller scale would go faster than the large block, but I was quite surprised at how much faster the outer surface was to finish. However, the inner surface of this vessel tuned out to be more challenging than I had anticipated. At fist I was able to work with hammer and chisel to spiral groves in towards the centre (Figure 4-5B), exactly as I was doing with the large steatite cooking vessel in progress.
However, since this pot is intended to be deeper than it is wide (Figure 4-5C), it quickly became very difficult to work on the inner surface with the chisel. I tried using a file, but the files I had on hand were not a good shape for working inside this pot. Therefore I set the project aside for a few month, picking it up again only after I got access to a hand-forged, long handled lathe tool, normally used for woodworking, for carving the interior of cups and bowls (Figure 4-5D). This worked very well, thought it felt a bit disturbing knowing that I was using a wood working tool on stone, even though steatite is softer than some woods.
While the pot that had inspired this one was meant to hang from a chain and be a decorative holder for essential oils, I am thinking that mine will be used for cooking a single serving of food, or perhaps a sauce. But how to set such a tiny pot into and out of the fire? Once again, my blacksmith, Jörgen Öhman, provided the solution, forging a set of tongs curved to the correct diameter to hold the small pot (Figure 4-5E). I have covered the griping end of the tongs with hand spun yarn, applied using nålbindnin techniques. (See https://www.en.neulakintaat.fi/ for the best introduction to doing nålbindning that I have seen.)
click here for figure 4-5
4.6. Attempt at a steatite needle
Since I am fond of nålbindning, and my attempts at making steatite fishing hooks had gone well, and I had on hand a bit of long, narrow scrap stone that appears to have come from the edge of a stone frame, such as one might see in a memorial site (Figure 4-6A), I decided to try making a steatite needle. Step one, using a modern drill bit, but twirling it with only my fingers, to put a hole through one end of the stone, worked very well (Figure 4-6B). The initial shaping to a tapered length using files (no hammer and chisel needed for projects on this scale!), also went very quickly (Figure 4-6C).
However, I could also see a bit of a potential issue--the stone I was starting with is very rich in pyrrhotite inclusions (see the rusty orange spots on the stone in Figure 4-6A). While my employer was uncertain where this steatite had been obtained, I suspect Grunnes quarry, which is located only a five-hour drive from where I was working at the time, and is reported in the Norwegian NaturalStone database as having a problem with rusty discolorations from the pyrrhotite inclusions it contains. Another potential source would be Grytdal quarry, which had been used during the 19th Century restoration of Nidaros Cathedral, but which stones they are now actively replacing because of the rusty brown discoloration from the rust leaching out of the pyrrhotite inclusions, and the tendency of the stone to crumble where those ubiquitous inclusions are weathering out (Klem 2018).
However, a needle is a tool normally used indoors, and not exposed to the weather, so I was hopeful that there wouldn't be an issue with phyrrhotite rusting in the needle, and I choose a length that had fewer visible phyrrhotite inclusions (Figure 4-6B) than typical for this stone. Unfortunately, the phyrrhotite inclusions in this stone are densely distributed throughout the stone, and some of them are as broad as the needle itself (4 to 8 mm). While steatite is a rock type that is very good at holding together in the large scale, when one reduces it down to this width it soon becomes apparent that the bonding between the talc-chlorite-carbonate matrix and the phyrrhotite inclusions is not as strong as that between the matrix minerals themselves, and the needle broke at the junction between the phyrrhotite and the matrix, in two places (Figure 4-6C).
I would be very interested in trying to make another nålbindning needle from steatite, if I ever get access to a suitable size piece which is relatively low in accessory mineral inclusions. Note: my decision to try making a nålbindning needle in steatite was not influenced by the archaeological record. If there are any surviving examples of steatite nålbindning needles I have never seen mention of one. It was only the surviving fish hooks that made me wonder if it would work.
click here for figure 4-6
4.7. Working as a stone-carver at Lofotr Viking Museum
In the winter of 2019, I heard that the Lofotr Viking Museum, in Borg, Lofoten, northern Norway, would be hiring craftspeople for summer jobs, demonstrating Viking Age arts and crafts to visitors, and stone carving, was one of the options specifically mentioned. This sounded like a perfect summer job to compliment my research, so I applied, and was accepted to work the full summer of 2021. Alas, the pandemic re-closed the Norwegian border shortly before the season was to begin, and I was unable to take up the job. The following summer, 2022, I was again accepted to work, this time as a team, both my partner Jörgen, working as a blacksmith, and myself, working as a stone-carver (Figure 4-7). This was an amazing experience, both because it gave me an opportunity to work with stone on a daily basis, and because it gave me a chance to share my love of the craft, and my understanding of the importance of steatite for cooking vessels and other household objects during the Viking period, especially in Norway. On beautiful days it was possible to carve outdoors (Figure 4-7A), and the rest of the time I had a nice work station set up in the reconstructed longhouse (Figure 4-7B), in the end of the building that had originally been the barn, and thus acceptable for messy crafts such as stone and wood carving.
click here for figure 4-7
4.8. Splitting Stone
When I arrived at Lofotr I had, of course, brought with me my steatite pots in progress, and, for the first few days I was there, I worked on my own projects. However, since I was being paid as a stone carver, the museum prefers that I work on their stone, so that they can keep the finished product(s) for display to future visitors. This sounded reasonable to me, so I set about looking for appropriate tools with which to split the very large stone the museum had on hand (Figure 4-8), into reasonable size pieces with which to work. My partner, Jörgen, had previously split stone boulders that were too large to move during landscaping projects, so he volunteered to help. With other stone types the process is pretty straight forward, drill holes in the stone, then hammer in a metal wedge, and the stone, being brittle, will crack and split.
Steatite, on the other hand, being comprised primarily of very soft minerals, is not at all brittle. If one hits it it, it is more likely to dent than to break. Also, I wanted to start with square blocks, to make the museum a cooking vessel similar to the one I was already working on for myself (that was before we had found the steatite cooking pots that the museum had purchased years before, which are visible in the background of (Figure 4-7A). Therefore Jörgen first used an angle-grinder to cut an initial slit across the stone, marking where we wanted it to split. This generated a very large amount of steatite powder, and I cannot recommend doing this anywhere indoors, or even out of doors near anything you wish to keep clean. It is however, quite effective, and quickly cuts a line into the stone as deep as the blade of the grinder is deep (so ~4 or 5 cm).
Then we used a large drill bit to dill a line of holes along the length of that cut line, and begin hammering metal spikes into the holes (Figure 4-8A-B), eventually (and much longer than he expected it would take, given his experience with more brittle stones), the rock split along the line (Figure 4-8C), giving me a block roughly the same size as the one I began my stone carving experience with (Section 4.2). However, this new cooking vessel was a very different project, starting as it did with a rough-cut block, with sides that were neither perpendicular (other than the commercially produced top and bottom surfaces), nor smooth (since they had the drill holes we had produced on two sides, and the other two sides had also obviously been drilled (with an even wider drill bit than we had used) before splitting them.
However, I had only one day to begin working on the new steatite cooking vessel for the museum before the blacksmiths proposed a new project: a new, larger, stone for the forge, to stand against the hearth and protect the bellows from the heat of the fire.
click here for figure 4-8
4.9. The Loki Stone
When the forge at Lofotr Viking museum was first built they had one of their wood-carvers take a break from wood carving, and make them a forge stone for the hearth, patterned after the Snaptun stone (Glob 1959), which is embellished with one of the few known representations of the god Loki, drawn with his lips sewn shut, after trying, and failing, to outwit the smith, Sindri, which makes this design even more appropriate to sit directly in the fire of a smithy Gestsson 1961.
The museum’s original steatite forge stone, measuring ~40 cm long, is perfect for forging knives and smaller tools, and is so good at retaining heat that, after a full day working in the forge, the smiths report that the following morning the bellows stone was always still warm to the touch. The "hot spot" in the forge fire, just in front of the bellows stone, where the air comes through, where the fire is at its hottest temperature, and is thus best for heating the metal to an appropriate temperature for working it, was typicality about 10 to 15 cm long with the original bellows stone, depending on how actively the bellows are pumped, but the maximum size of that hot spot with that stone was 30 cm (Hughes and Öhman 2022). However, the smiths, Rod Hughes, and Jörgen Öhman, wanted to build a replica of sword number 883 in Bergen's Museum (see Plate 1, sword 3 of Peirce 2002), using an authentic Viking style forge and no modern shortcuts. They feel that having a large soapstone bellows stone is important, as a larger hot spot is required to forge-weld sword-length metal layers together, and a larger stone will retain more heat, and thus permit a larger hot-spot.
Therefore, I abandoned my plans to complete a set of steatite cooking vessels and begin working on a new, larger forge stone. Just has we had for the square blocks; we approached the initial splitting of the stone with the same technique described in section 4.8. above. The available steatite block was ~76 cm wide, so we separated a 70 x 76 cm rectangle from it, to carve into the forge stone.
However, that initial block (Figure 4-8), was roughly twice as thick as we needed it to be. Therefore, we needed it split it lengthwise, and the museum didn’t have a saw capable of such a cut. Therefore, we tried the same approach, of using the angle grinder to do a cut around the perimeter of the stone, and then drilled holes along the cut, and begin hammering in metal wedges in hopes that we could split the stone in two lengthwise segments. However, steatite is a soft stone, and does not split easily, and certainly not in the parts of the stone the drill bit was not long enough to reach. Instead, small chunks broke off of the edge next to the metal wedges, a bit at a time. It was possible to work our way gradually in, by breaking away stone all the way around the perimeter, then drilling a new series of holes and hammering in the wedges again to break off new bits of stone. However, each new set of drill holes needed to be located a little further from the mid-line of the stone due to the sloping nature of the breaking surface, and after the third pass around the perimeter it wasn’t possible to continue further with this approach (Figure 4-9A), and we decided that I should proceed with hammer and chisel whilst on duty during the days as a stone carver.
It took me just over 50 hours of carving, over 17 days, to first remove the excess dome from the centre of the stone (Figure 4-9B), fix some of the symmetry issues in the curve of the dome caused by not marking the line upon which the upper corners were removed, but only “eyeballing it” (Figure 4-9C), and then smooth the stone (final polish done with a nice, round, rock plucked from a riverbed) enough to draw Loki’s face (and his stitched-shut mouth) on to the stone with a bit of charcoal (Figure 4-9D), then use a fine pointed chisel to etch in the decorative lines (Figure 4-9E), before painting the lines with a hand-mixed paint of haematite powder and linseed oil, and using more linseed oil to oil and darken the entire surface of the stone (Figure 4-9F). There remains only the drilling of the hole through which the pipe from the bellows will go, and that can’t be done until the stone is installed in its forge, because its exact position will depend on how the stone sits with respect to everything else.
Unfortunately, we were unable to test the new stone directly after completion, as the smithy had burned down late one night that summer. Therefore, my forge stone is on display in the Longhouse, waiting until the new smithy is built, hopefully this summer. However, both smiths are confident that it will work exactly as they want it to.
click here for figure 4-9
4.10. What I have learned from carving steatite
Carving steatite takes time, but it is an enjoyable, and rewarding process. Smaller projects are not only more quickly done, they also bring an instant sense of accomplishment for being able mark them as complete so quickly, which is good for morale. However, the larger projects bring far more pride when they are complete.
The composition of the stone matters. Not only were the large (2-5 mm) pyrrhotite inclusions in the steatite the museum provided detrimental to the structural integrity of my stone needle, they also interfered with carving the details of Loki’s face, sometimes preventing the incised lines from going as deeply as intended, sometimes necessitating a slight diversion in the placement of the lines around a particularly large inclusion, sometimes dislodging an inclusion that was partially in the path of the incisions, and partly outside of it, resulting in a wider line segment than intended.
I don’t yet know how/if this stone, with its large percentage of pyrrhotite inclusions would affect cooking in a pot made from it. However, since the one I started last summer is roughly the same size as my personal steatite cooking pot, once they are both complete it will be possible to do cooking tests to see if there is any difference in the heat retention (how long will each pot keep water boiling after one removes it from the fire), and if there is any difference in flavour of food cooked in a pot which is rich in inclusions and one in which the inclusions are rare.
It is thought that steatite carving had evolved to an industry, and was a major export for Norway by the Viking Age Sindbæk 2013. I know from my own experience that it is easy enough for a beginner to pick it up, and produce usable items straight away, with a minimal of training. For a family living near a soapstone quarry it might be enough for one generation to make a set of cooking vessels that would last them for years, and only need to replace them if they were damaged, which could mean that the need to carve a replacement might come up only every other generation or so, and this wouldn’t be a problem in terms of having a perfectly functional replacement pot. However, working as a stone carver as a full-time job, even if only for one month over the summer, builds an immense amount of confidence in how to best work the stone to achieve the effect you want. I imagine that continuing with such work long term would enhance this effect, and likely contribute to the quality of the workmanship, thus increasing the value of the pots as commodities.
References
Bergsvik, K. A. (2017). Mesolithic soapstone line-sinkers in Western Norway: Chronology, acquisition, distribution, function and decoration. in Soapstone in the North. Quarries, Products and People 7000 BC - AD 1700. ed.: Gitte Hansen and P. Storemyr. University of Bergen Archaeological Series: 73-92.
Forster, A. K. (2004). Shetland and the Trade of Steatite Goods in the North Atlantic Region During the Viking and Early Medieval Period. Department of Archeological Sciences, University of Bradford. PhD: 396.
Gestsson, G. (1961). Billedstenen fra Snaptun. Kuml 11(11): 125-127.
Glob, P. (1959). Avlsten. Kuml 9(9): 69-83.
Hughes, R. and Öhman, J. (2022) Personal Communication.
Klem, J. (2018). Personal Communication.
Peirce, I. (2002). Swords of the Viking Age. Woodbridge, The Boydell Press.152 pp.
Sindbæk, S. M. (2013). Broken links and black boxes: material affiliations and contextual network synthesis in the Viking world. Network analysis in archaeology: New approaches to regional interaction: 71-94.
Skjølsvold, A. (1961). Klebersteinsindustrien i vikingtiden. Norveg 8: 1-162.
Stavsøien, E. (2012). From solid rock to cooking pot: Working with soapstone, - what is hiding in the process? BACHELOROPPGAVE BYG819T, Prosjektnr. 13-2012, Høgskolen Sør-Trøndelag.
Storemyr, P. (1997). The stones of Nidaros : an applied weathering study of Europe's northernmost medieval cathedral. Dept. of Architectural History. Trondheim, Norway Norwegian University of Science and Technology. PhD.