Erica Moody

Metal

Waldoboro, ME

Interview

ericamoody.com

@ericaemoody

Luxury to us is a simple concept; it’s a serving set from metalworker Erica Moody. From her converted barn studio in Midcoast Maine, Erica handcrafts utensils and hardware to transform daily rituals into meaningful experiences. After studying film and photography, she discovered metalworking through the Boston building trades, finding in this material something fine art had never provided. What began as an apprenticeship creating architectural elements evolved into her own custom fabrication business by 2001, before the overhead costs of city life and a longing for more space and nature led her to Waldoboro in 2016, where a personal revelation sparked her transition from large-scale commissions to intimate serving pieces.

Her process honors both heritage and innovation, using century-old machines that clunk and hum with mechanical rhythms rarely heard in modern workshops. Brass handles are riveted to stainless steel servers, copper married to aluminum, each combination chosen for both visual harmony and functional purpose. What might appear as deliberate design elements often emerge from happy accidents—brass forming unexpectedly around steel, the particular patina left by a torch—reflecting Moody’s philosophy that perfection lies in embracing the human marks of creation. Her distinctive finishing techniques balance efficiency with craft, moving quickly from coarse shaping to hand burnishing, preserving evidence of the making process while creating surfaces that invite touch and use.

We think of Erica Moody in terms of time—in terms of her years of creative upbringing, of the three decades put into perfecting her metalwork craft, of how the present moment seems to slow down when handling her work, of how her work will last for decades of use becoming ever more meaningful with each meal served, and of how her teaching at institutions like Penland, Haystack, and the Center for Furniture Craftsmanship will pass on a craft from generation to generation. Her Maine Creative Residency, her Giving Back Campaign, her workshops for boat builders and woodworkers—all extend her practice beyond the workshop walls, embodying the ideal creative life: fostering a disappearing craft while creating objects that carry both their maker’s touch and the promise of stories yet to be written.

We had the privilege of speaking with Erica about her story, craft, and philosophy. Read on to learn more from this master metalworker:

Your career spans both artistic and practical realms of metalworking. How did your early experiences shape your approach to blending design and utility?

As a child, I was exposed to both the practical ethics of a family history steeped in farming for a living, and my mother who is a studio and teaching artist. My parents were hugely inspirational in how they worked hard to create a unique and beautiful space to live. They explored homesteading while working full-time professional jobs, and were intent on weaving creativity and passionate intention into all they did, thriving on learning and creating.

As someone who apprenticed and learned through hands-on experience, what aspects of metalwork can only be understood through practice versus instruction?

The type of projects I was trained on were not part of an instruction book, but unique and often complicated projects that both my boss and I had to brainstorm together to engineer and execute well. The challenges we were presented with would be so far from what we could have introduced ourselves, as they were concepts given by non-metalworking architects and designers. This opportunity to engineer complex requests from scratch in a very simply outfitted metal shop, requiring a very high degree of detail and finish, was my primary education on understanding the material of metals.

You combine multiple metalworking techniques in a single piece. Could you break down the fabrication sequence for something like your Feather Series, including any particularly tricky operations?

For the Feather Series of serving ware, they start with research on antique serving ware pieces, finding inspiration for the lines and shapes for the profiles, and shape and materials for the handles as well. I then turn to paper and pencil to sketch to scale some possible ideas. Once I feel like I’m in the ballpark of the shape, I transfer the sketch to a piece of stainless steel, then cut it out on the bandsaw. I then true up the lines and shape on the belt sander. At this stage Imay modify the shape from the tracing, as I’m sanding. I then will trace the new sanded profile to keep a flat pattern in case I decide to keep it for replicating. I then will drill holes in the handle to attach the handle material. Then I shape the bowl form by heating and dishing by hammering into forms and on the anvil. Once I like the full shape of the stainless steel body, I start to make the handle ‘scale’ that gives it more dimension. For this series, I carved a shape and texture in wax, and then had it cast in silicon brass. Once the castings are ready, I size them to fit the stainless steel bodies, transfer the rivet hole locations, drill, and then rivet them all together, and fine tune the whole piece by sanding and burnishing.

Your work centers heavily on traditional tools and analog machines – some nearly 100 years old. Could you describe what these vintage tools enable that modern equipment might not?

These old machines are both beautiful, sturdy, and affordable. One of the things that first drew me into a career in the building trades was the inspiration I could see in these old machines that still had beautiful details in their knobs and levers, their mechanical sounds, the exposed gears…unlike a lot of modern machines. But honestly, their use, fortunately, is extremely practical due to how cheap they are to acquire. They don’t have any computers in them, and are simple to maintain, and hardly ever need any repair. Their affordability allowed me to be able to set up a metal studio fairly quickly.

Many of your pieces combine different metals – brass with steel, copper with aluminum. What draws you to these material combinations and what challenges do they present?

The materials that I use are primarily based on the decades of experience in working with them from when I worked with architects on furniture and railings. These are the materials that I’ve become familiar with after years of wrestling with them when challenged to engineer and fabricate what the clients wanted, which wasn’t often very practical or common approaches to how the material traditionally had been used. I like to continue working with these materials, as they are not as precious as silver and gold, which allows more room for the cost of a project to go into the fine detail and workmanship. I like to mix the materials primarily for the color juxtaposition and utilize the different benefits of the material for effectiveness in the use of the piece. For example, in the feathered servingware pieces and much of the flatware I make, the bodies are made with stainless steel, which is a very durable and hard material and far less expensive than silver. But because stainless steel is so hard, it becomes very difficult to efficiently use certain hand wrought techniques with it, especially using thicker sheet. But if I use thin stainless sheet, and layer the handle with another material, it can be more efficient to make and adds an extra dimension in size, color, and shape.


The surface quality of your pieces is quite distinctive. Could you walk us through your approach to finishing, from initial texture development to final patinas?

This surface quality comes from developing a way that can be the most efficient to do and still have a sweet hand-worked finish. I am not a fan of lots of sanding, so it’s generally a 2 to 3 step finishing process going from coarse sanding to quickly shape the piece, and then a medium fine sanding to condition the edges and surfaces, and then a hand burnishing step. Any of the patinas are coming from the natural process of the making. Some of the materials are heated with a torch to soften them for forging and forming, and this oxidizes, or changes the color of the material from a brighter look then when it was raw material. I tend to leave those colors there and any variations that might appear. It’s an organic process that I like to be part of the aesthetic.

Your pieces aim to enhance daily rituals around food and gathering. When developing new designs, how do you balance functionality with creating those special details that make an object memorable?

I think the functionality and the special details often go hand-in-hand. When I’m designing a piece, the shape and curves that speak to me often have a good ergonomic language already present. It seems that a visually balanced line and shape will also end up having a good balanced physical weight when you’re holding the piece in your hand. My decision to keep marks visible from the making…whether it’s the rivets that hold the layers together, or the dark color from the torch, or the hammer marks from forging…these details share some of the process, and some of the presence of a human being making the piece. It tells more of a story to the user.

When you think of a ‘perfectly designed’ utensil or tool, what qualities stand out to you? How do these qualities guide your work?

First the beauty of the lines, the visual ‘feel’ of the shape, color, and texture, how the light hits it, how it rests on a table, or a plate. Drawn in by the visual, the interaction comes next..the weight of it in the hand, how it balances and moves with the hand, how the surface feels, and then the utility of it..how it scoops and lifts or pricks or spreads…does it gather enough? Does it deliver the morsel well and satisfyingly? Does it enhance the experience of serving or eating? Do I return to choose that piece often because it gives my heart a flutter each time I see it? Is it starting to build on that flutter with memories of using that piece, reminding me of good people and good meals?

As someone who both practices and teaches metalwork, what guides your approach to passing on techniques to the next generation of craftspeople?

I feel its so important to learn how to be present, and pay attention to what’s happening in the moment, both with what sparks you’re interest, and how to respond to the material in front of you. Goals and plans can be great, but practicing to stay open in your creativity to catch the unexpected is so important to discovering your true self and abilities. Practicing the balance of both macro and micro perspectives in observations around oneself keeps the door open to magical occurrences. That being said, practicing the skill to execute the craftsmanship takes time. Exposing yourself to many ‘making’ challenges and problem solving, and working with many different peers and mentors is so precious to developing skill. Keeping up the courage and focus to learn the skills is so important.

In an era of disposable goods, you’re creating pieces meant to last generations. How does this commitment to longevity influence your material choices and construction methods?

I do love the durability of the material of metal. I find you can often make much more delicate and minimal things that will last quite awhile with metal work that you can’t do with other building materials. I would love for my pieces to last a long time, both for people to love them that much and care for them, but also to keep things being used instead of being thrown away, and adding to already huge piles of garbage in our world. I am very conscious of the materials I use to be fairly ecologically sound, as they are recyclable and the few exotic woods I use are scrap or repurposed woods. But nothing less forever, change happens, I just hope that as long as they are around that they are loved, shared, appreciated, and inspire good connections and memories.