Briar, sweat, and tears, the raw ingredients for pipes. This is home for pipe carver Todd Bannard, known on the net simply as “Sasquatch”. And what the Sasquatch loves to do is make pipes. Boring old regular-ass pipes. When I started carving pipes, my thoughts were that I was going to be the next Bo Nordh (who doesn’t think that the moment they drill their first block?). What happened was, I made a bunch of perfectly serviceable ugly pipes.
My contribution to shape, style, and finish was absolutely zero. And I went back to making “simpler” pipes, pipes that were more like catalog shapes, “classic” pipes if you like. And mostly I never got back out of that. When you realize the beauty of most of these old shapes, the proportions, the functionality… there’s a reason they are classic. So that’s mostly what I do.
“Friend, good wood is priceless and it’s ridiculous to speculate with the bearing when what is really important is the quality of the supply.”
This is part of an email I received in response to a query about getting some briar from a mill which had re-opened after being closed for quite a few years. I wanted to make a small order, but various fees (shipping, a sanitation certificate, import taxes) were looking like more than the wood. So I was grousing a little bit. And this guy basically says “I dare you to not buy my stuff.” That’s fantastic.
I'm continuously surprised by how a piece of briar with some holes in it can be so different than another, similar piece of briar with some holes in it.. I don't understand it.. but there is a difference.
S.L. in Norway
Lumber wise, I would rate the pipe as merely exceptional. Very clear tobacco flavor, the wood really stays in the background. You cut a wonderful pipe there, Todd. I've only smoked it maybe 15 times, as it's a little big for my daily piping purposes, but when I have a chance for a long car ride, or (rarer yet) a chance to sit and read, I grab that pipe. I've never had a large pipe so perfectly balanced and virtually unnoticed in my mouth. A blend like McC Oriental #14, something that really doesn't get a fair shake in my 30 minute running around the house - driving to work routine, has a chance to really reach a crescendo in it.
J.B. in New York
The shop Sasquatch watches over proceedings. His mystical presence guides my spirit. Or my hands. Or something. Native Americans I’ve talked with don’t merely “believe” in Sasquatch – that’s akin to asking your neighbour if he believes in bats. The Sasquatch is a mystical fellow – he commands respect, controls time, provides a link to the past and perspective on the present. Sure as hell in my shop he controls time. Entire days go missing.