I wanted to show Malcolm a photograph of the William Bull trumpet and I realised that the image on p. 5 of the book was the best example I had to hand. I was proud to show him my book and he looked at the many facsimiles of musical manuscripts with an artist’s eye. The book served as a tangible way to show my passion for this subject and the effort I am willing to put into a project; it shows something of my work ethic, subject knowledge, and dedication, and it proved to be a useful way for Malcolm to remind himself of my name as well! In a nutshell, it’s one of the few pithy, easily understandable, and kudos-worthy things one can say about my freelance career (without blowing my own trumpet).

As part of this Arts Council England DYCP grant I am hoping to study with mentors, craftspersons, and specialists working in silver: this will involve studying silversmithing skills and related topics including chasing and repoussé, and hand engraving, with highly experienced professionals. This is also a research and development opportunity to build new networks, explore my practice, and take risks as part of my ongoing professional development.

Of all the disciplines that I will be exploring, hand engraving was the most familiar to me. I decided to start with a familiar discipline in order to ease myself in, and to find a good formula for future sessions with other mentors. It was great to appraise my largely self-taught technique with Malcolm in order to advance towards engraving pieces with added layers of complexity, particularly working on convex workpieces as opposed to flat ones. In this respect, jigs and fixtures play an important role (3D design and printing have already proved to be useful in this area) and the engraving tools themselves are also of crucial importance—whether using the ‘hand push’ method or ‘hammer and chisel’ technique.

I first learned about Malcolm Appleby through the Hand Engravers Association of Great Britain; I attended one of their courses in London in 2015, called ‘Cut in Clerkenwell’. I had some introductory lessons with Samantha Marsden of Sam James Ltd and went away to practise. I subsequently followed the Hand Engravers Association on Facebook and Instagram and I have watched many of the videos that they have created or shared over the past decade. Malcolm Appleby initially came to my attention through their social media and I began to follow his own channels directly. I learnt to sharpen gravers by watching a video of Malcolm in which he showed a group of people how to set precise face and belly angles on a graver using a GRS sharpening fixture. I bought the same type of fixture and worked out angles that seemed to work for me, and have been using that graver geometry ever since.

Having followed him on social media for a number of years I particularly wanted to study with Malcolm Appleby because of his distinctive and individual artistic style. Thanks to his well-appointed Instagram content I had also learned that he does not use pneumatic power tools for engraving, preferring hand-push and hammer-and-chisel style engraving techniques; his hand-operated approach is therefore in-keeping with techniques that would have been available during the Baroque period.

Shortly after I arrived at his workshop, Malcolm examined my tools: I showed him the gravers that I tend to use regularly, which he noted are quite short. I tend to resharpen my gravers very regularly when engraving brass (a swipe on the Emery paper after practically every cut), and I like to renew the 45° angle on the face at least every 15 minutes. These gravers are now, unsurprisingly, becoming rather short. Malcolm explained that a longer graver would permit greater leverage, and flexibility with which to flick away the swarf at the end of each cut. He also explained that using a 15° angle (rather than my usual 12.5°) on the back faces of the graver would permit a higher working angle, giving additional clearance from the workpiece (which is especially important when engraving convex or concave objects); it would also improve performance particularly when engraving curves. This proved to be the case; it took a bit of re-learning but I gradually adapted to these changes. Malcolm also used a large woodworking chisel to remove some of the wood from the back of the graver handle—again for added clearance from the workpiece.

We continued with a toolmaking session, starting with high carbon steel nails rather than expensive graver blanks. The nails are notably quite ergonomic to use since they are round in cross section. Malcolm used a bench grinder to rough out the required shape for the graver, taking great care over the tang end as well as the cutting end. He finished the gravers using the GRS graver sharpening fixture and diamond grit polishing wheels running on a power hone (which looked a bit like a small record player). I had previously only used Emery paper (and formerly India stones and Arkansas) for sharpening. Throughout my entire visit to Malcolm’s workshop, comprising 3 days over which I did roughly 28 hours of engraving, I did not have to resharpen the graver that Malcolm made for me—though admittedly I was engraving silver, not brass. Nevertheless, this was a huge improvement, and engraving on silver was wonderful: it feels softer and smoother to cut than brass.

In the initial consultation I also showed Malcolm some examples of trumpet garlands that I have engraved. He looked at them and noted that, although the front was engraved, the back of the piece showed that it was unintentionally embossed as well. I thought this was just because the brass was relatively thin and an impression would naturally pass through to the back. However, he explained that the double-sided tape that I had been using to attach the workpiece to the wooden board was too yielding and spongy. He recommended that I use a reusable polymer material called Thermo-loc®, which is pliable when warm but solidifies and holds the workpiece firmly in place when it has cooled. Having this firm base was something of a revelation. It is cleaner and presumably firmer than using pitch, although, as I found to my cost, it can make a bit of a sticky mess if it is overheated.

Malcolm began by asking me to engrave a series of straight lines on a small piece of silver, which was held in place on a board with the Thermo-loc polymer. I was using new gravers with unfamiliar geometry on the cutting edges. He asked me to draw a series of straight lines on a piece of silver and stressed that I should not think about it too much. Malcolm recited a maxim, which admittedly I had not heard before: ‘always return your cuts’. This was great advice and easily practicable now that I wasn’t re-sharpening after almost every stroke. Malcolm gave me another great pearl of wisdom at this point: he explained that pushing the graver deeper into the workpiece before lifting the tool out (and flicking the swarf) at the end of each cut produces a cleaner finish. He was, of course, correct and I tried to incorporate this new habit into my practice.

Once an engraved signature, pin, and clasp were added, this patterned piece became a brooch (which I later gave to my Mum as part of her 70th birthday present). Malcolm stressed the importance of making my signature look like my actual signature; he said: ‘don’t try to make it look like a typeface, make it look like your real signature’. 

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Malcolm, perhaps already starkly aware of my level of artistic flair (and admiration for precision) emphasised the importance of keeping the character of the work: in his view, the work should not look too mechanical or perfect. In general, he did not seem to be worried about imperfections and he celebrated the handmade aura of his own workpieces—though it would take an exceptionally keen eye to spot anything even slightly wayward in his wonderful work. Just as I like to play the trumpet thinking about my musical intentions and not about the method, Malcolm was able to think of the way the piece would artistically catch the light and engrave accordingly, in a way that seemed to surpass mere technique.

It is therefore no small wonder that Malcolm is such a highly revered engraver, designer, and artist. Some newspaper clippings on the wall gave a small insight into some of his accolades, of which I can only herewith scratch the surface—pun intended. Front covers of The Times, The Daily Express, and The Daily Telegraph, showed photographs taken by the altar of St Giles’ Cathedral in Edinburgh in which various members of the Royal Family were present. A pair of silver candlesticks designed by Malcolm in 2013 feature prominently in the photographs of these royal occasions, which included the lying in state of Queen Elizabeth II in 2022 and a later service in which King Charles III was presented with the crown jewels of Scotland. Many would know Malcolm Appleby for his outstanding work in the field of gun engraving. Others would know him for his use of some somewhat unorthodox techniques (his use of a small chainsaw, or a pneumatic breaker attached to a JCB, to texture a workpiece immediately spring to mind). Malcolm also spoke of his former students with great pride.

While I was there, Malcolm was engraving a Britannia silver cup in preparation for an exhibition at the Scottish Gallery celebrating his 80th birthday next year. He adorned the cup with circular patterns, which he described as his ‘cloudy scroll’ with ‘little puffs of wind’. He had engraved a triskelion shape on the base of the design which also artfully encircled the various hallmarks. He signed his name using his stand-mounted Leica A60 Stereomicroscope (instead of the Zeiss 4.3x surgical loupes that he usually wears attached to a headband). His signature was incredibly small and his scrollwork was artistically beautiful and technically impressive. 

I enjoyed my three days with Malcolm and the new routine of leaving my AirBnB in Aberfeldy and driving the short distance to Aultbeag in Grandtully (pronounced ‘Grant-lee’, as some friendly locals in an Aberfeldy pub told me). I was happy to be in Scotland in October, even in the aftermath of storm Amy, when this rugged country seemed to be both wild and majestic. I had driven up to Scotland a few days before the planned workshop visits and my wife and I rented a cottage on the banks of the River Ardle in Enochdhu. We enjoyed a relaxing few days exploring the area and watching the red squirrels in the trees over the river from our rented cottage, despite storm force gales and water levels rapidly rising up the riverbank. I was reading Craftland by James Fox (2025)—an incredibly appropriate book for me to be reading at this time. It is a brilliantly written book about the rapidly vanishing skills and traditions from these once hugely prolific islands. During the Industrial Revolution Britain became, according to Fox (2025), p. 8, ‘the greatest manufacturing nation the world had ever seen. By the mid 1880s its smoke-cloaked factories produced 43 per cent of the world’s manufactured exports (China today makes less than 30 per cent)’. James Fox describes his visits to the workshops of various artisans, including the Isle of Man’s resident watchmaker Roger W Smith, who I had the pleasure of meeting in 2022. I wonder what James Fox would have written about Malcolm’s amazing workshop and dedication to his craft.

On the second day, having finished the brooch comprising straight lines, I began engraving a piece that was made up exclusively of curves. I have always found curves to be easier than straight lines and Malcolm remarked that I had found my form. Everything felt very different with the new graver geometry, and the first piece of work I produced wasn't really up to the standard that I have become accustomed to at home. For that reason I felt like it was not my best work. However, it was good work because it was this preparatory work that enabled me to move onto producing better curves, enjoying the greater clearance that using 15° back angles facilitated. In time, this would pave the way for me being able to engrave more complex, contoured workpieces.

The second workpiece took the shape of a cornetto or horn, which Malcolm cut out from an offcut of silver. The inspiration for this came from two sources: firstly, Malcolm explained that he has a cow’s horn that he has ‘been engraving as a sort of hobby’, which features the place names of Grandtully and its environs. We made a series of amusing short videos in which I played this cow’s horn and he played my natural trumpet! Secondly, we searched Google and Malcolm found an image of the concert pianist, Piers Lane (pictured backstage at London’s Wigmore Hall), who could be seen wearing a brooch made by Malcolm that was both in the shape of a face and a grand piano. Malcolm suggested that I could wear a horn-shaped brooch for my performances (though I’d be worried about scratching my trumpet with it). Anyway, back to the silver engraving: Malcolm sketched a group of interlocking circles, similar to the Olympic Games logo although of several different sizes. He encouraged me to outline them by engraving a series of curves nestled together to form rainbow shapes, with these concentric patterns emerging from the edge of each circle. I eventually got the hang of this, and the pattern catches the light in an attractive way.

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On my last day studying with Malcolm, I asked for an introduction to hammer-and-chisel style engraving on a contoured three-dimensional object. The set up for this involved holding the workpiece in a large rotating ball vice on top of a rotating potter’s table on top of another rotating table! I found this to be much more challenging than the hand-push style engraving that I had done previously, partly because of the more complicated shape of the workpiece but also because the graver was now held in the left hand, with a small hammer held in the right. Malcolm explained the importance of the hammer handle (rectangular in section, not round) and the small hammer head (symmetrical) so that you can pick up the hammer and know exactly what position it is in without taking your eyes off the workpiece. I asked him if he initially found holding the graver in his non-dominant hand more difficult. He said that he didn’t think about it: of course he is very well accustomed to it. It may have felt strange to begin with, but you get used to it after a certain point. That certain point was probably half a century ago in Malcolm’s case, but it was very much a work in progress for me. I had tried this style of engraving only once before when engraving a garland for my Steinmetz horn in 2014.

Some of the most cherished time I spent with Malcolm was simply when we were side by side and engraving concurrently, accompanied by the unsynchronised ticking of various mechanical clocks and the occasionally synchronised taps of our hammers. Despite the ticking of the clocks, this time felt as if it passed somehow timelessly. I occasionally asked Malcolm a few interview-style questions as various thoughts occurred while we were engraving. By the way, Malcolm is quite accustomed to being interrupted by the telephone, the doorbell, or people in his workshop. This was not at all what I expected; I imagined that a phone call or sudden noise might potentially cause slips or distracted mishaps, so I made any approaches as delicately as possible. One of the questions I asked him was, given that he had designed this building from scratch on a c.12-acre plot of land, why he chose to have his workshop in the main house and not as an outbuilding. His answer was simply that he does not have a living room: the workshop essentially is his living room. Even at the age of 79, he had already been working when I arrived at 09:00, and presumably for some considerable time based on the amount of engraving that he had done since 17:00 the previous day. It seems that he works almost all the time, only stopping for naps, meals, and walks (often for finding fruit, flora, fauna, fungi or firewood, or for feeding fowl). He told me that he carries on working long into the evenings as well. He must work for about nine hours each day, and he often listens to the wireless, as he calls it, while he's working. 

Before I knew that, I asked him whether he works for shorter hours in the winter, as natural light is scarce on those short days. He said that light can be provided artificially but he explained that he can get quite cold and that it is important to stay warm and keep moving. Incidentally Malcolm covered all of the bare metal on his engraving vices with leather to insulate his hands from cold surfaces. He has a wood-burning stove in the kitchen, fuelled by sticks collected in the surrounding woods, which he uses for cooking and also to warm his hands. He also showed me an extremely old stove which he used for many years which is now just outside the kitchen: nothing is wasted here. If this house had featured on the Channel 4 television programme Grand Designs, I think the great wordsmith Kevin McCloud might have described this house as a curvaceous, tactile, unique, autobiographical eco home in the woods and of the woods, conceived by an artist for an artist; a building that seems to emphasise the home in homemade and the hand in handmade.

Malcolm is something of a collector. His workshop is a mélange of antique, collectible, unusual, unique, rare, or handmade ephemera. For instance, a poster entitled ‘GOLDSMITHS NOW GUNSMITHS’, featuring a quotation from The Times, dated 2 October 1941, adorned one of the walls. It read ‘The National Jewellers’ Association has issued the following notice: “The Craftsmen normally employed in the jewelry [sic], silversmithing, and watchmaking industries are among the most skilled in the world. To-day they are almost wholly engaged upon the manufacture of instruments necessary to victory; instruments without which ships cannot sail, bombers cannot fly, nor armies fight….”.’ Malcolm’s workshop houses everything required for engraving, silversmithing, jewellery-making, and the gun-engraving world, to various curiosities from the natural world, including plumes of feathers, fruits from the orchard, deer bones, animal skulls, and many other seasonal peculiarities besides. His artist’s eye is frequently piqued by nature and ‘the magic squares’ of Instagram as he calls them: this is a man who likes to be inspired.

Part of the appeal of studying with Malcolm was in his dedication to sharing his craft through social media, though I wondered how he had become so technologically advanced and also how he finds time to make such excellent content for his social media channels on top of his workload in the workshop. It transpires that he has a visiting PR specialist and social media guru, called Rachel (@rachel_connects_ on Instagram). She visits periodically to document Malcolm’s latest projects and news, and she edits and posts video content and other campaigns accordingly. While I was there Malcolm was keen to include me in his reels and Rachel visited us every day. This gave a great structure to each day as well, and meant that there was somebody to show what we had achieved. I had brought a silver natural trumpet (one of a pair made by Henry Potter in the 1880s) and a copy of my book with me and I was asked to explain the basis of my DYCP project in a short video. Rachel made the content into three Instagram reels which have proved to be very popular. In fact, a few months later I went to a well-known jewellery tool shop in Hatton Garden and was ‘celebrity spotted’, so to speak, by one of Malcolm’s followers who had seen those reels: ‘You had lessons with Malcolm Appleby, didn’t you? He’s a legendary engraver!’

While I was there, Malcolm and Rachel were busy sharing details of the Banchory Bangle raffle, which is held in aid of the Scottish charity Children First. Malcolm has been designing and producing beautiful bangles for this charity for several decades and has raised hundreds of thousands of pounds for them over the years. He is a great advocate for the charity and the democratic nature of a raffle makes it accessible to all. It’s an example of a mutually beneficial symbiosis and a brilliant idea to hold it as an inclusive raffle as opposed to an exclusive auction.

One day, Rachel brought some children from the local primary school to visit Malcolm. They had entered the Banchory Bangle colouring-in competition and wanted to show their efforts to Malcolm, who studied their boldly coloured ‘Bunnies and Brambles’ from this year’s featured design with great interest. The kids loved his energetic reactions and were equally fascinated with the many curiosities in his workshop. He gave them a grand tour and explained everything with an endearing and childlike enthusiasm.

Aside from Instagram, it became apparent that Malcolm’s other main method of communication was the landline telephone. While I was there I was a little unsure if I had done anything to impress or make inroads with my new teacher-acquaintance. I was particularly anxious about this because I was aware that Malcolm does not usually take students who are not already quite accomplished artists. We’re from rather different worlds: London’s Royal College of Art (where Malcolm studied) and the Royal College of Music (where I studied) are literally paces from each other but in some ways worlds apart! He noted that he usually asked for drawings and sketches from aspiring students before choosing whether to accept them. ‘When you see their drawings, you can tell immediately whether they will be any good‘, he remarked. He mentioned that one of his former students, Miriam Hanid, passed this test with flying colours. ‘You could tell instantly’, he reiterated. I was quick to mention from the outset that I was fairly hopeless at artistic drawing but he explained that ‘you were accepted because of your interest in a very specific area’. Phew.

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Malcolm telephoned his friend—one of his contemporaries at the Royal College of Art in the 1960s—Hector Miller, in order to arrange introductions. It was only then, when he was leaving a message on Hector’s answering machine that he showered me with praise: ‘I’ve got a very interesting young gentleman here at the moment who is a professional trumpeter … he has written a wonderful book about the natural trumpet’ and ‘I think you two should meet’ was the general gist of the message. It turns out that Hector is a silversmith and flautist and Malcolm was keen to arrange the introduction. I subsequently met Hector at his workshop in London and I had a wonderful time with him: he is also a fascinating and talented craftsman. Hector asked if I had seen the Christmas card and envelope that Malcolm and he had exchanged for more than 50 years—I subsequently have seen it, and it is a wonder to behold: I am sure that it will be displayed in a museum one day! Incidentally, meeting Hector led to me meeting another flute-making friend of his, who in turn had another friend who is working on a restoration of a trumpet made by, would you believe it, William Bull. It’s a remarkably small world. 

All of a sudden, after meeting Malcolm, thanks to his telephone calls, Instagram reels and so on, several people from the silversmithing world miraculously seemed to discover and reply to my emails that had been quarantined in their spam folders, and just like that my DYCP project seemed to take flight. As I wrote at the beginning of this article, I was struggling to find an ‘in’, and this proved to be exactly that: something of a vote of confidence and an injection of enthusiasm from an incredibly well-respected stalwart and legend of this community. I’m indebted to Malcolm for sharing his expertise with me and I felt very fortunate to have been able to spend an unforgettable few days with him, his wife Philippa, and Rachel (the PR specialist) at this remarkable, unique, and hugely characterful workshop in the Scottish Highlands. I learnt a great deal: the most important and fundamental discoveries for me were to remember to consider the character of the work—things should be organic and not ‘too perfect’. Technically speaking, using jigs, fixtures, and Thermo-loc (to ensure there is a strong bed under the workpiece), optical equipment, and the new graver geometry and sharpening techniques will make a huge difference to the quality of my future output.

Before the end of October, the month in which I first met Malcolm, I had visited and measured the William Bull trumpet in Warwick, met Malcolm’s friend Hector Miller (and Hector’s other flute-making friend), and had my first lesson in chasing and repoussé with Miriam Hanid: this DYCP project is off to a very strong start!