Skip to main content

The Builder's Art

His father talked with the master. They agreed on the terms of his labor, the moral cast of his instruction. Now he walked, his little hand in his father's big hand, through the dusty streets of dawn to the edge of town, where he was left. An apprentice on his first day, he stood among the tall men: hair on their arms, bristly whiskers, stained teeth, bright eyes. Piled lumber filled the shadows, trim ranks of planes lined the walls, heavy benches bore mighty machinery. Burly men bent and shifted elegantly in the dim, cramped space, and he stood, straight and silent, attentive.

Read Full Article

Support the Folklife Festival, Smithsonian Folkways Recordings, sustainability projects, educational outreach, and more.