John Shorrock
by Brenda Ross
In the ups and downs of agricultural life in recent years, many farmers have diversified. When one Lancashire pig farmer started dealing in secondhand woodworking machines, it led ultimately to another farmer, John Shorrock, becoming a full time woodturner. And in the seven years that John has been in business, his particular style of work - which uses natural edges, faults and areas of rot as features in the finished pieces - has attracted many customers.
John had tried woodturning as a 14 year old, on a lathe attachment for an electric drill, but when he reached adulthood "work took over", farming with his father. Woodturning was put to one side for some years, until he bought a lathe from the pig farmer turned dealer and took up the hobby again. That was nine years ago, and a couple of years later, in the mid 1990s, he and his father decided to give up farming.
"We had been through one downturn and got through that, but we decided not to wait for the next one. We got out while things were going well and other farmers said, 'Why are you giving up now? Things are good'. But not long after, when things took a turn for the worse, we were proved to have done the right thing."
They have certainly been glad of it in recent years, with the foot-and-mouth disease problems, as they kept sheep and pigs. The land in their area is not suitable for arable farming, as the wet climate north of Manchester makes it too damp for crops.
Most of their land was rented, so someone else now farms that, with one of the farm buildings being converted into a house. The land they own is now home to someone's horses, but the Shorrock family still have the view across the West Pennine Moors from their farmhouse and garden on the edge of Withnell, near Chorley. And in the farm buildings they own, close to the farmhouse, a barn that used to house pigs is now John's wood store, and the former farm workshop now holds his woodturning equipment. For when they gave up the farmland, John's father retired and John's woodturning became his full time job.
He uses hardwoods grown in the north-west of England, mainly elm burr, yew, ash and spalted beech. Often the trees have had to be felled because they were dead, diseased or dangerous. "Sometimes I see in a field a dead tree that I can tell has possibilities for turning, and I find out who it belongs to and approach the farmer, but most of my wood comes from local tree surgeons who know the kind of pieces I want and keep me in mind when they see something suitable."
He likes to buy the whole tree and tries to retain its spirit and character in the pieces he makes, using the defects and natural shapes to best advantage. "With most of the wood, I can visualise what I am going to get out of it before I start. To a large extent the wood dictates what I make and its shape and size."
He creates the outside shape first, and then hollows out the inside to match. When centring the wood on the lathe, he positions the holes and grain patterns where they will look good on the finished piece. Although he has visualised the shape before starting, he will also develop the piece according to the emerging grain and natural edges, as he works. Occasionally he will hit an unexpected fault in the wood while he is turning, or a piece will split or become unstable. "Then it's only fit for firewood," he says. Using the natural features of the wood makes commissions difficult, as particular requests would depend on him finding exactly the right piece of wood. So he can usually only agree to produce the closest possible. But these seem small drawbacks worth tolerating for the natural "rustic" style of his work, which has proved so successful.
"When I first started in business I made all kinds of turned items," he says, "from spinning tops to egg cups, and it was a year or two before I hit on the idea of using the holes and natural edges of the wood as features in my pieces. I found that these pieces sold better, so I dropped the other things I made. I still try other things and other shapes sometimes, but these pieces still sell best."
Along the way he swapped that original lathe for a bigger one, and then had another lathe made by a local engineering firm, with electronic speed control that allows him to turn each piece at the right speed for its size.
"A normal lathe has pulleys and belt to adjust the speed," he explains. "This gives only a number of fixed speeds to choose from. One speed may be too slow and the next too fast, because when I am turning big pieces they are usually out of balance, and I need to turn them as fast as possible without vibration. The electronic speed control allows me to make fine adjustments and go at any speed, so giving me the greater control that I need."
The largest piece John has turned was 45in tall and 30in diameter, made from sycamore. It was a dead tree that had grown massive cankers, and was seen in a field by a tree surgeon who recognised that John might make good use of it and approached the farmer about taking it away. At the time of writing, John's turned piece was awaiting the right customer, perhaps a corporate buyer, with £5000 to spend on a splendid piece of craftsmanship.
A chain hoist mounted above the lathe allows John to lift large logs into position. Off-cuts of wood provide fuel for a woodburning stove to keep the workshop warm in winter, and shavings make good mulch to protect young trees in the garden.
The turned pieces are left to dry in a small store between his workshop and wood store, with a heater and fan to keep them at domestic temperature and humidity, so they dry and change shape before they are bought, and not when the customers get them home. A ¼in thick piece would be left there for two or three weeks. John shows an example of the changes on a piece that has finished drying: "Texturing has taken place over the burr; the grain goes in different directions at that point, so it shrinks in different directions as the piece dries." This in fact makes the curve of the vessel less "true" and creates a bumpy surface, but it only adds to the attractiveness of the piece and enhances its appearance.
John finishes all his pieces with a melamine lacquer and then wax polishes them to bring out the natural markings of the wood.
His best selling pieces are vessels with flared necks, and bowls in a similar style. He has started making pieces with added colour as well as texture, inspired by the work of studio potters, but he does not make long-term plans for his range. "Any new ideas I have, I make straight away as they come along," he says. He sells at four to five large crafts events a year, mainly those run by Crafts in Focus, and he can be found at the Corn Exchange in Leeds on most Saturdays in the run-up to Christmas, where present-buying customers bring him worthwhile business. He has also tried the Country Living Christmas Fair at the Business Design Centre in London, and found it successful although rather expensive.
From mid 2002 business became quieter, but since the middle of this year sales have picked up. His work is now in about eight galleries around the UK, and he is trying to increase this. He approaches some galleries himself, and others come to him. "It can be difficult approaching them," he admits. "It's OK if I can take the work to them and they can feel it in their hands, but usually they want you to send them images and that is not so good for conveying my work. When they first accept my work I find galleries are quite specific about what they want me to make, but after a while they just leave it to me."
Although he would like to increase gallery outlets, John does not want to stop selling at craft fairs. "They enable you to see what people are looking at, what is popular. You are meeting people and getting feedback. There is not much feedback from galleries - although at galleries customers do seem more inclined to spend a reasonable amount of money. People seem to view craft fairs differently and don't expect to spend so much."
From a personal point of view, John seems to have made the transition from farming to woodturning very smoothly, and seems as much at ease in his workshop, or at his computer looking through images of his work (which he photographs himself), as he must have been when working on the farm. Asked which of the two occupations he prefers, he gives a philosophical answer: "I don't have a preference; I have enjoyed them both. It's where life takes you."
But he has found one point in favour of woodturning: "As a farmer my work was never praised. The people we dealt with, such as the slaughterhouse, would tell you when you had done something wrong, but never say when you had done something right. As a woodturner people admire your work. Being at a craft fair and having people say 'Look at that; isn't that lovely' is great. It doesn't always make you any money, but it makes you feel good!"
