A Cut Above

Back Home in Kentucky Magazine | Jan / Feb 2000

From a black thin block of metal, an image is created of a sharp beauty with a mirrored finish. Hidden except in the mind of its creator, a utilitarian yet appealing object emerges. A skilled professional knifemaker, Jerry Dean Clay was raised in Appalachia and has a self-taught talent, a preserved artistry that few can match.

Assembly lines and mass production are the norm of today's life, supporting volume and large-scale industries. In a one-man shop found within the cleft of misty hills of Greenup, Kentucky, can be found the patience of a skilled craftsman. His artisan's skill of knifemaking has almost faded into the past, but he continues to preserve this tradi­tion of fine handcrafted knives.

"I've always had an appreciation for anything that is handmade," Clay says as he burnishes the leather of a fin­ished sheath while the smell of pipe tobacco warms the air. "When I put my name on a knife, it means I did it all," he smiles with the confidence of quiet ability.

J.D.'s craftsmanship begins with the high-grade steel that he tempers himself and designs to the customer's needs. He envisions the knife at the start, with thousands of knives made in his 28 years of serious craftsmanship. He knows what makes a good field knife. "I don't go for outlandish designs; practically all the knives that I do follow a sensible design concept. Basically, a knife is a sharpened piece of steel with a handle on it. I don't do wall hangers or any features on a knife that don't represent practical field use. On occasion it is nice to have a little decorative work, which doesn't hurt the  practicality of the knife, just dresses it." He describes his basic philosophy as, "Basic design, utilitarian, four-inch blades or less, drop points that are your most popular blades. Quality is what sells handmade knives. That's what you're paying for, that quality workmanship and fine detail."

His designs range from folding knives to Bowies. The majority are sheath knives. Starting with a stainless steel block to the finished product, a knife may take as many as 15 hours of dedicated work. Once the metal work is done, a handle is applied. The handle is then pinned with nickel silver and ground to the hand's shape.

Clay's talent is two-fold—his skill continues with the scrimshaw artwork upon the handles. With fine detail and laborious patience, he etches a design suitable to the knife's use with needle-like tools. With a fine pencil he first sketches his layout on the handle. "1 put an art design that fits the knife. On a small bird knife, I'll put a quail, pheasant, or grouse. On a deer size knife, I'll put a deer, bear, or a moose head." He hovers over a gleaming blade, its finish honed, buffed, and polished to a mirror sheen and elemental sharpness. "It's satisfying to work with your hands, to take raw stock and create a totally handmade item."

Scrimshaw art is a delicate artistic technique used in earlier times by sailors who etched designs on whale teeth. "Not very many knifemakers do scrimshaw. Most knifemakers have to have someone else do the scrimshaw, because they cannot draw." His tone is modest, smooth, and relaxed, much like that found in his part of rural Kentucky.

Once the delicate art design is finished, various colored India inks are applied for depth of the carvings. Then lacquer finishes are used to seal the handle from weather and field use, preventing the expansion and shrinkage water damage can cause.

Finally, the knife is measured and fitted with a leather sheath. The sheath is a very important part of the whole package—some knife-makers furnish a flimsy sheath. "A good sheath is very important, not only important for the knife, but more important for the protection of yourself," he says. Hand-designed to fit, Clay's sheaths are hammered and punched with pattern work. "In the field, if you have a flimsy sheath, the knife can punch through. A good sheath should be made of good heavy leather."

Many of his knives have guards. "A knife with a guard has a projec­tion that comes down at the blade's base so your fingers are protected from the blade. The guard is for finger placement because if you're stabbing or cutting, the guard is for stopping your fingers from slipping when the handle is smooth. If your hands are wet or greasy, you rhand can very easily slip to the blade when field dressing."

The fascination with and skill for handwork were inherited from Clay's father and family. "Dad was a shop craftsman. He liked to do intricate work, primarily car­pentry. Years ago up in the mountains people were poor. And when they had money, there wasn't anything to buy. The biggest part of their tools they made themselves," he says with a serious tone. He has lived in Kentucky all his life. "Because it's home, it's hard to consider any place else to live. I'm kind of proud of Kentucky because of all the history here—home of Daniel Boone and all the pioneers that came through here. It's deep in history.

Clay's talents extend to music and even watercolor paintings, as evidenced by the painting of his grandfa­ther's Kentucky homestead that graces his fireplace mantel. Occasionally, Clay can be found making music in the Greenup area with the Bluegrass Darlings. He has intricately inlaid wood and mother-of-pearl insets on his banjo that he crafted himself. His devotion to the quality of handcrafts is evident in his work.

Available at first through a local hardware store, his knives are now available world-wide in 12 countries. He ships them the same way he makes them—one at a time. Clay's personal success is knowing that his craft has satis­fied the knife's owner. "I want my knives to be well-suited to serious outdoor use, yet showing the highest degree of fine workmanship." His designs and artwork are as simple as the land he comes from, the foothills of the Appalachian mountains. Every knife reflects intricate detailed scrimshaw and flawless beauty for which his work is known, and he produces only about 100 each year. His pride can be found in th craftsmanship of each knife. As he says, "There is only one J.D. Clay knife."