Richard Sachs Cycles

[Mark Walberg]

It's a visual language, not spoken. I understand it. But never hear it. I know it when I see it.

A file in the maker's hand is communication. The tool and the surface it's rubbing up against.

To rearrange metal or to blend it seamlessly is a quiet yet deliberate chat held daily at my bench.

I’m an eavesdropper listening to a conversation about strokes and shapes and file marks.

There’s a perfect amount of effort. It’s controlled and unscripted simultaneously. Like jazz.

Look closely. Every scratch tells a story. But only one scratch tells you the story just ended.

All This By Hand

I'm happy to say that I get it.

[e-RICHIE]

There's a balancing act of chaos when I stand at the bench to make a bicycle frame. The part I love the most is the part after the very beginning. When the pipes are mitered and I'm sure all the interference fits meet a standard. That's when the torch is lit for the first time. Little pieces of metal balancing on round tubes. Each has a function and an exact place to be. The tactile senses are heightened when the smell of an oxyacetylene flame dances on a pile of surrendering paste flux. But when the business end of the brazing rod I'm holding begins its travel under and ever-so-slightly around every joint - that's when I become overloaded. The scent of heat and the mastery necessary to shepherd molten filler into places only I command it to go. Nothing after this is better.

All This By Hand