Kenneth H. - The Numedal Bladesmith of Norway
My home
I make my home in Djupdal - Rollag, a quiet valley in Numedal, Norway. The nearest neighbors are far enough away that the forge can roar and hammers can ring at any hour without disturbing a soul. Outside the workshop, silence returns - broken only by elk tracks in fresh snow or birdsong drifting across the porch. It’s a landscape that leaves room for both noise and stillness, letting the work breathe and the mind rest.
Few moments rival the sight of a billet of pattern-welded steel glowing beneath the hammer - each strike nudging it closer to form. Feeling the raw elements transforming into a finished blade brings a quiet, hard-earned contentment that in those brief moment of rest between the hammerblows; fills the heart with joy.
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My philosophy
I live with a constant, quiet restlessness - an ember that brightens whenever an idea takes root. It could come from a line in a book, a recent scientific discovery or hypothesis, or a piece of historical myth. I read and listen because each fragment hints at something larger, and I feel compelled to give that “something” a physical form before my short time runs out.
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Steel happens to be the language I’ve learned best. It holds detail, withstands time, and - when treated with enough care - can echo the complexity I see in the wider world. Every knife I make starts as a way of asking myself whether I can translate a feeling, a question, or a fragment of wonder into a shape another person can hold. Some attempts succeed, many don’t. The ones that fail teach me where to reach next.​
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I chase perfection, but never at the cost of honesty. If an ornament, material, or surface doesn’t serve the story, I remove it; if a technique feels easy, I look for a harder one that carries the idea more faithfully. That process can be frustrating, even painful, but it keeps my work sincere.
My goals
​When a finished piece finally leaves my bench, my hope is simple: that its new steward senses the curiosity and urgency in it - maybe even feels prompted to ask their own questions. If a knife sparks a moment of reflection, a shift in perspective, or just a quiet smile, then the ember has found new fuel and the conversation continues - one blade, one shared moment at a time.
My Methods
Every piece starts with an obsession - an image too faint to see clearly but too insistent to ignore. I read, sketch, and turn the idea over in my head until the blur sharpens and the details find their places. Then I wrestle with materials. I reach for iron pulled from an old mining shaft, oak reclaimed from a Danish bog, or Meteorite - substances that have already lived a life. Their scars and patina must echo the theme; otherwise I keep searching.
Once the right match is found, the making becomes a conversation between concept and matter, giving forgotten fragments a second life and letting the idea speak in a voice it could never have found on its own.
Behind the Blacksmith's apron
When I am not forging in my basement, or engraving in my workshop - I am most likely to be found in nature - seeking solace in the orchestra of the forest, or sometimes in the silent breeze as it gently strokes the spring leaves of the birch trees. In winter the vast tundra of the alpine mountains provide a monotone landscape in white against blue sky - allowing for thoughts to flow unobstructed.
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And every once in a while - the asphalt calls - and another kind of adventure unfolds.
I hope that perhaps now you have a better picture of who I am and what I'm about...
If you should have any questions - do not hesitate to contact me!
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With sincere regards, Kenneth H. - The Numedal Bladesmith.