Tom Karen - Toymaker: My Journey From War to Wonder

First published in the UK by 535

An imprint of Bonnier Books UK

Wimpole Street, London, W1G 9RE

Owned by Bonnier Books

Sveavgen 56, Stockholm, Sweden

Hardback 9781788700863

Ebook 9781788700870

All rights reserved. No part of the publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted or circulated in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission in writing of the publisher.

A CIP catalogue of this book is available from the British Library.

Designed by IDSUK (Data Connection) Ltd

All chapter heading images unless stated Tom Karen

P. 283 image Alamy

P. 369 illustration Mark Wearne

All sketches Tom Karen

With thanks to the V&A Archive for providing the sketches.

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Copyright Tom Karen, 2020

Tom Karen has asserted his moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Every reasonable effort has been made to trace copyright holders of material reproduced in this book, but if any have been inadvertently overlooked the publishers would be glad to hear from them.

535 is an imprint of Bonnier Books UK

www.bonnierbooks.co.uk

To my grandchildren:

CONTENTS

HOME THOUGHTS

A H, THERE you are. Come in. You found the place all right? Most people do. Im told its obvious which door is mine, even if youve forgotten the number. Its just an ordinary terraced house, but there is something distinctive in its appearance. All those flying beings dangling in the bay window the angel; the broom-borne witch; the sitting birds on either side or the tree silhouette with birds in its branches, or the three wooden penguins. You dont see such objects in every window; nor do you often see front doors decorated, as mine is, with exuberantly handwritten notes. And where else would you see a windowsill inside thats crowded with a wooden Noahs Ark, a big pottery badger, a fleet of hand-made rockets and a wooden-spoon-based rocket-launcher?

It must look rather bewildering at first; chaotic, even. In fact, theres a rhyme and reason to it all. These are my memories, and the further you come inside, the more of them youll see.

Take a look in my front room: its an Aladdins cave of objects, products, artworks and souvenirs. Most are things I made myself, but not all. Above my little fireplace, for example, theres a deep-orange mantelpiece (formerly a steel girder; converted into a fireplace). On it are five objects: a little bronze blackbird (sculpted by me); a pleasingly shaped piece of slate (found); a large pine cone (from Portugal); a beautiful wooden hippopotamus (from Denmark); and a little ladies in waiting laser-cut (model designed by me), which Ill tell you about later. I dont actually need any of them. But why would I ever get rid of any of them? Each one pleases me in its different way: to look at, to pick up, even to smell. To me, theyre precious.

Its the same all through my home: models, pictures, toys, things. Why do I have a panel of tiles showing various animals bottoms? Its a long story Ill explain later but the main reason is that it makes people smile. Its the same with that Marble Run toy on the table, or the vintage radio, or all those model cars. Pleasing objects are what I live for. I make them, imagine them, collect them; and they, in turn, reflect me. Each one tells you something about me.

Even the books on my shelves a seemingly random collection covering history, art, aircraft, wildlife, motoring, architecture, design, toys offer a broad brushstroke sketch of their owner. If you want to get to know me, wander through my home. This is where I store my memories.

Im usually to be found in the big room at the back. Lets take a look. Strictly speaking, this is my kitchen. As you can see, though, little thats in here has anything to do with food: its more of a storeroom, my studio and my office. Thats the sink, over there, behind that box. But its a lovely place to sit and work, or just to gaze out into the garden. Theres plenty of sun, especially in the afternoon, and theres a nice amount of shelving. You can fit many memories in here. This lovely table made by the Devon craftsman Paul Anderson from the oak of old ships I use mostly as a desk. And my office chair has castors, so if I want anything from a shelf I can just roll over and get it.

Sometimes I think about having a clear-out, but I never get much beyond thinking about it. Where would I start? Where would I stop? If I got rid of every object that isnt strictly necessary for daily life, Id need a skip the size of this house. If I kept everything that was capable of bringing a smile to my lips just by being what it is, I wouldnt get rid of anything. Objects have meaning, messages, value. You cant just throw them away.

In any case, I have other priorities. My instinct is to create, not to cull. You see that garage down there, at the far end of the garden? Thats my workshop. Its one of my favourite places, although it gets a bit cold in winter. Come on, Ill show you. Mind the step and watch out for Rusty, too. Hes that big laser-cut dog, made of steel and then salted to make him rust, next to the garden path. Theres a smaller Rusty at the other end, as youll see, as well as a bigger version of that ladies in waiting laser-cut I mentioned earlier.

I have to take the path carefully these days, but its worth the effort. Time in my workshop keeps me sane. Making things always has. I set myself a practical task, settle down to doing it, and all my other cares disappear.

Its a bit cluttered, but there are ways of getting from one side of the room to the other, if you know the routes through the maze of memorabilia. I think of it as a creative warm-up. I had the whole place done up soon after I moved here, but things have been gathering in it ever since. Some of the objects are there because Ive nowhere else to put them: that great big bicycle, for example, or the wooden marble run by the door, which I made with my grandchildren (I did the carpentry, they painted the animals).

But most of this stuff is here because it is needed. If you make things, you require materials, and tools. All those things on the shelves are related to my craft activities: paints, glues, varnishes. So are all these things on the floor: tiles, wood, hardboard, cardboard, modelling clay, plastics, fabrics you can make things out of almost any material. And then, as you can see, I have any number of specialist tools: drill, bandsaw, sander and so on. I can hardly start getting rid of those. I suppose you could make a case against keeping quite so many offcuts, but you never know when theyll come in useful.

The real problem comes from all the career memorabilia that have settled around the craft materials again, because Ive nowhere else to put them. There are folders full of slides, big binders full of newspaper cuttings, boxes of obscure correspondence and old diaries. Im not sure how it all got here, but its here now, and I can hardly get rid of it. These, too, are objects that carry the story of my life.