From the archives: making scents
Re-sharing "The smells of creativity"
Another one from way back. ~JRC
The smells of creativity
For makers, paradise is the scent of a well-used workshop
First published August 21st, 2020
We've all experienced it - a random smell that takes us way back. The scent of freshly cut grass transports us to childhood summers (yay). Or a waft of disinfectant reminds us of a long-ago trip to the hospital (blah). Whatever it is, smells forge a direct connection with the past like no other sense. For makers, workshops are alive with pungent reminders of what we love about creating. Even the most noxious shop odor can be a welcome reminder and an invitation to build something new.
The sense of smell is a miraculous feat of evolution - humans (and many other animals) can detect molecules aloft in the air. These airborne agents stimulate nerve cells in our noses, which send signals to the brain. There, our minds discern these as different odors. In all, humans can detect 1000 or more distinct classes of smelly molecules.
Smell evokes memory so powerfully because of its direct connection with the brain. All our other senses go through the thalamus first and then on to other parts like the hippocampus (memory) and amygdala (emotions). The thalamus acts as an experiential hub, relaying senses to higher-level consciousness. But with smell, nerves that begin in our noses end uninterrupted in our brain's olfactory lobe. They bypass the thalamus altogether. Essentially, our sniffers attach to the main brain, enabling the powerful scent-memory-emotion connection we all experience.
Basic notions of smell are likely hardwired into us since birth. We can discern "good" vs. "bad" for many - it’s built into our genetic makeup. Fruit smells delicious and edible; poop, not so much.
But the learned aspect of smell is what makes it an intimate part of memory. We first experience smells along with our initial perceptions of the world around us. In tandem, scents and experiences become rooted together in our minds.
A good example is smoke from a barbeque grill. On its own, the toxic smell of charcoal briquettes signals anything but "edible." And yet, many of us start salivating upon smelling those glowing coals - long before any food even touches the grill. The reason is Pavlovian, in part. We associate the aromas of a fired-up BBQ with delicious grilled food to come.
Sight, hearing, and touch all create Pavlovian associations too. But with smell, we don't just think of the present or of things to come. Scents conjure deep-seated memories like no other perception. For that barbecue, we remember our first summer grill out or an evening party now long past. That’s the power of smell.
A maker’s shop is a smelly place. Wood, solvents, paint, and oil. Piney soldering flux. A spent tube of calk. Even the acrid smell of hot-cut metal. All can signal good things - past, present, & future - in a shop.
For me, a favorite is the scent of wood glue.
Wood glue differs slightly in its odor from other PVA adhesives, like white (school) glue. I know because each induces different memories for me. The latter reminds me of my kindergarten classroom and those early days spent making arts & crafts. As for wood glue, One whiff, often combined with fresh-cut lumber, and I am back to my dad's woodshop.
Back then, in his upstairs maker space that we simply called "the barn," Pop was the happiest that I remember him. These were good times for both of us as he made things with wood, glue, and know-how. I loved nothing more than watching under his arm as he put sweat (and sometimes blood) into his creations.
For the maker, fond recollections like these can be associated with benign smells such as wood glue and sawdust. But, as often, volatile and toxic odors resurrect good memories. These perhaps inspire even more, owing to their penetrating scents.
A potent one for me is my oil-lubricated air compressor.
Shop compressors come in two flavors - sealed mechanism and oil-lubricated. Sealed ones need less maintenance but aren't as durable as oil-lubed ones. But with oil compressors, there is a distinct smell when they run - bordering on burning petroleum. This otherwise foul stench takes me right to my happy place, usually with a pneumatic (air-powered) nail gun in hand.
Nailing together a project after designing, measuring, and cutting out the pieces is satisfying. The assembly is when a plan starts coming together. A compressor is an intimate part of this final assembly, and is why I love its smell. It also goes hand-in-hand with all that wood and wood glue. It's a veritable fiesta of fragrances for makers.
Smells conjure memories for all of us, no matter our interests and vocations. But for makers, creating is filled with the scents of projects past. We remember our earliest efforts as we make, in large part because of the smells. And in starting each new project, we add to the collective experience behind these scents. The smell of a well-used shop is as alluring as any aroma can be. It makes us hungry to make more.
Until next time.
JRC