Care and cleaning

Treat your scrimshawed ivory as you would any fine jewelry. Do not get it wet unnecessarily, because the inks, especially colors, may fade. Keep your scrimshaw out of bright sun; this dries and cracks the ivory and may fade certain colored inks. Detergents, shampoo, heavily chlorinated water, and jewelry cleaning solutions should be avoided, as they turn the ivory surface dull and remove the etched lines. Dirt and oils may be removed with a cotton swab moistened in rubbing alcohol and wiped gently over the surface. Do not scrub, as this will remove some ink from the fine lines. I use a light coat of warm beeswax rubbed into the ivory to preserve the scrimshaw and keep the ivory from drying and aging too fast. Waxing should be repeated when the ivory is cleaned, because the alcohol removes it. If you treat your scrimshaw with care, it will give you many years of pleasure and may become a treasured heirloom.

What is scrimshaw?

Scrimshaw -- Painstaking etching on ivory or bone -- is one of only a few indigenous American crafts. Practiced for centuries by the Inuit and other native groups along the Northwest Coast, it was adopted by the Yankee whalemen of the early 1800's. Two- to five-year voyages quickly became monotonous, so the whalemen turned to working with baleen, whale teeth, and jawbones, all of which were in abundant supply -- in fact, on many ships, whale teeth were part of the pay, and were often traded to shopkeepers in port for goods or services. Common subjects included whaling scenes, ships, women, and scenes copied from magazines of the day. The origin of the word is obscure; one interesting etymology is a Dutch phrase meaning "to waste one's time!" The term "scrimshaw" also applies to carved or pierced bone or ivory, since much of the whalemen's work was carved rather than etched.

History & Materials

Scrimshaw is derived from the shipboard practice of sailors creating common tools, and on whaling ships the byproducts of whales were readily available. The term originally referred to the making of these tools, only later referring to works of art created by whalers in their spare time. Whale bone is ideally suited for the task, as it is easy to work and was very plentiful.

The development of scrimshaw took off after the market for whale teeth, which was sought by Chinese traders for use in the Pacific Islands (for example the Fijian market for tabua), was flooded with teeth after a narrative by an American sailor, Captain David Porter, revealed both the market and the source of the teeth. Around this time is the earliest authenticated pictorial piece of scrimshaw (1817). The tooth was inscribed with the following This is the tooth of a sperm whale that was caught near the Galapagos islands by the crew of the ship Adam [of London], and made 100 barrels of oil in the year 1817.[2]

Other sea animal ivories were also used as alternatives for rarer whale teeth. Walrus tusks, for example, may have been acquired in trade from indigenous walrus hunters.

Scrimshaw essentially was a leisure activity for whalers. Because the work of whaling was very dangerous at the best of times, whalers were unable to work at night. This gave them a great deal more free time than other sailors. A lot of scrimshaw was never signed and a great many of the pieces are anonymous. Early scrimshaw was done with crude sailing needles, and the movement of the ship, as well as the skill of the artist, produced drawings of varying levels of detail and artistry. Originally, candle black, soot or tobacco juice would have been used to bring the etched design into view. Today's artists use finer tools in various sizes, mostly borrowed from the dental industry. Some scrimshanders ink their work with more than one color, and restrained polychromed examples of this art are now popular.

Originating in an era when sperm whales were initially plentiful only to be hunted to near collapse, scrimshaw no longer is an artform utilizing an easily renewable animal resource, but one that is susceptible to contraband. Now, the Endangered Species Act and international conventions restrict the harvest and sale of ivory to try to reverse the scarcity of ivory-bearing animals.

  • Though there are sources of ivory that are sanctioned and legal, poachers in Africa and other continents where elephants are an endangered species still kill for their ivory, Elephant ivory has been regulated since 1976 by the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species and selling African ivory has been prohibited since 1989.
  • 19th and 20th century scrimshaw, scrimshaw crafted before 1989 (elephant) or before 1973 (sperm whale ivory, walrus ivory etc.) is legal. It is prohibited after that year for commercial import in the U.S. under the Marine Mammal Protection Act.
  • Additionally, walrus tusks bearing the Alaska State walrus ivory registration tag, and post-law walrus ivory that has been carved or scrimshawed by a native Alaskan Indian (Eskimo), is legally available.
  • Finally, any ivory considered ancient, such as 10,000 to 40,000 year old mammoth ivory, is completely unrestricted in its sale or possession.

Scrimshanders and collectors acquire legal whale teeth and marine tusks through estate sales, auctions and antiqure dealers. To avoid illegal ivory, collectors and artists check provenance and deal only with other established and reputable dealers. Scrimshaw that is found to have been illegally sourced may be seized by customs officials worldwide, dramatically loses value and is very hard to re-sell, as the limited channels through which collectible scrimshaw passes serves as a check on unscrupulous persons. As with any other fine art form, it is usually possible for experienced museums, auction houses or other experts to perceive a fake.

Sunday, 17 January 2010

Scrimshaw Art in Bequia
By Norma Faria

Scrimshaw is the traditional seaman's art of etching seafaring scenes on whale's teeth, bones and other hard materials like oak wood. A maker of scrimshaw is called a scrimshander.

In its heyday during the 1800s, scrimshaw was a true maritime art. Seamen, especially those working on whale-hunting square riggers, had plenty of time on their hands as they journeyed to and from the whale grounds.

On the whale's teeth they had collected on previous voyages, they etched in with sail needles those scenes with which they were intimately involved: whale hunts, other sailing vessels, the mythical mermaid.

Later, they would give their work away to their loved ones, barter with the local tavern owner for a few drinks, trade to a woman of the night for a few moments of companionship or generally try to sell them.

Now, with the decline of the whaling industry and with modern-day fishermen and merchant mariners passing their free time watching videos, scrimshaw is almost all done ashore. The bucking, cramped musty seamen's quarters in the fo'c'sle (scrimshaw was also sometimes done on deck) have been replaced with well-lit and airy studios.

Some of the modern day practitioners of the art have little connection with the sea. Others, such as Sam McDowell, do.

McDowell, one of the world's top scrimshaw artists, who maintains a winter home and studio at Paget Farm on Bequia's south coast, first came to the Caribbean on board the charter schooner Ramona during the 1960s. He was interested in the maritime tradition of the area. In the early 1970s, he built a house above a pebble beach overlooking Isle a Quatre (pronounced "Oily Cot" by the islanders) and other Grenadine islands to the south. It was to nearby Petit Nevis that the Bequia whalers would tow the whale carcasses to be cut up.

McDowell paints as well; some of his canvasses (the scene of the Port Elizabeth, Bequia, jetty with the then-ferry schoonerFriendship Rose offloading, for example) show his maritime interest.

Scrimshaw is painstaking work. That's why a big magnifying glass and light hang over McDowell's working table. As with the seamen's work of yesterday, most of his scrimshaw is set on or around the seashore.

It's not politically correct now to talk of whale killing, but where does he get his whale teeth? People are going after whale watching now, although the International Whaling Commission allows an annual quota of two whales for Bequia's indigenous whale fishery. McDowell replies: "Micarta". That's an imitation ivory. It's made of a high-tech plastic. It's a good substitute. Camel bone (they seem to be quite plentiful despite the new rigours of camel racing these days) may also be used. India ink is put into the scratches to highlight the etching.

Some of the art is utilitarian. He has a line of knife handles made from micarta which cruising yachtspeople buy.

Prices vary. You pay for the labour and name of the artist. Many pieces end up as displays on the cabin bulkhead or over the fireplace back home. A US$500 to $600 knife is not something you would drop into your pocket as you climb the mast to free a jammed halyard.

Certain original scrimshaw pieces made by seafarers during the last century are now collector's items. "The price from the whalerSusan will go $90,000 per item," says McDowell. "Value increases with the artist's name and that of the ship."

Sam and his Bermuda-born wife Donna also recreate another form of 19th century sailor's art: "Sailor's Valentines". These were gifts made of seashells inlaid in a small box.

Some of the seafarers bought their valentines from handicraft shops on Caribbean islands before they hoisted sail for their homeport. This wasn't done to pull a fast one and pass off the handiwork as their own work, but simply to save time. Some just didn't have the talent or the patience.

McDowell mentioned the example from the B.H. Belgrave store in Barbados whose label identified it as a "Dealer in Marine Specialties and Native Manufacturer in Fancy Work." As with scrimshaw, antique sailor's valentines are now sold for prices hardly imagined by the invariably anonymous sailors and island craftpeople who made them long ago.

An art teacher at Princeton High School in New Jersey at one time, McDowell has formal training as an artist. He's originally from Carmel, California.

He feels the Caribbean needs art from its own people as well. He reasons: "I feel there is a hunger for works by local artists. The example of Canute Caliste of Carriacou shows that people worldwide are interested."

The McDowells would like to expand the sharing of their skills to local aspiring artists. They've taken on apprentices and will continue to do so as circumstances allow.

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