Chris Asteriou and his Masterful Classic Pipes

In the worlds of philosophy, art, and literature the fountainhead of the classics is Greece. And, although the briar pipe was born in St. Claude, France, most of us in the pipe world identify London as the home of classic pipes. Indeed, during the first half of the 20th century when pipes were sold worldwide by the millions, having the words “Made in London” or “London-made” stamped on a pipe’s shank created a powerful marketing advantage for those companies who associated their pipes with the British Empire’s capital city. Barling, BBB, Comoy, Dunhill, GBD,  Loewe, and Orlik comprised the classical canon of the British pipe.

Chris AsteriouGiven the London-DNA of the classic pipe, it is particularly interesting to me that some of the most extraordinary classic pipes are emerging outside the United Kingdom. One such pipemaker is the Greek pipemaker Chris Asteriou who is also an architect. That Asteriou is an architect shows up in the execution of his finished work and in the process he uses with buyers who commission pipes from him. It seems somehow fitting that extraordinary classic pipes would come from Greece.

Although I was aware of Asteriou’s name, two other pipe collectors piqued my interest: Michael Lankton, who writes the blog, Cake and Dottle; and Memphis-collector and friend, Tim Crowder.  Michael Lankton interviewed Asteriou for his blog, and it is well worth reading. (Click to read).

My decision to commission an Asteriou pipe was clinched during a visit to Memphis several months ago. I arrived the day before my engagement began, and I drove out to Tim Crowder’s home to spend the evening visiting, having dinner, and smoking pipes together. While I was there, I noticed Tim smoking a particularly beautiful Liverpool. I asked him about the pipe, and he told me he had recently received the pipe from Chris Asteriou. When he handed the pipe to me for inspection, I was astonished at how perfect it was.

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Inspiration

Early 1930s Vintage Comoy Deluxe Straight Grain Author (256)While more than a few pipe collectors and smokers appreciate and seek out sculptural and conceptual pipes, many – if not most, of us still feel a deep connection to classic shapes. There is a reason that billiards, bulldogs, lovats, canadians, rhodesians, pots, zulus, dublins, authors, and other classic shapes have endured. Their lines, proportions, and feel have propelled them into the canon, and while there are myriad expressions of each shape, if a variation strays too far from the canonical, it becomes something else. It may be breathtakingly beautiful. Its originality may be compelling, but it is no longer a classic.

Bent Billiard by Michael ParksEvery aesthetic realm feels tension between a desire to be rooted in its canon and a desire to break free of classical restraints. For me, this tension rivets my interest. I simultaneously hunger for what’s established and for what’s fresh. Indeed, were there no classical realm, how would we measure innovation? One cannot strike out in new directions if every direction is new; one cannot wander from a path that has never been walked. We need the classics to understand invention.

It was during the late 1980s that I studied with the author, philosopher, and futurist, Jay Ogilvy. At the time, Jay was working at SRI International (formerly Stanford Research Institute) working with his colleagues on identifying and tracking large social and cultural trends.

During one of our seminars, Jay spoke with us about the rhythms of relative liberalism and conservatism over the centuries. Using myriad examples throughout history, Jay demonstrated that the most liberal times occurred at the end decades of centuries and the most conservative times occurred in the beginning decades of centuries.

Fat Apple by Michael LindnerAlthough these trends do not strictly follow the calendar, at the time we were entering not only the last decade of the 20th century, but also the last decade of the second millennium.  Understandably, a vigorous discussion ensued where we wrestled with how the millennial end might amplify a readily observable hypothesis observable at the end of centuries. We explored the idea in philosophical, artistic, religious, financial, social, and economic terms.

We could already see evidence of the truth of Ogilvy’s observations in books like Huntington’s Clash of Civilizations. For example, a rise of religious fundamentalism was already occurring, and not solely in Islam which Huntington so presciently described, but also in Judeaism and Christianity.

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Beauty: a fickle muse.

Two Bent Billiard Comoy Blue RibandsPreben Holm Danish Freehand; Image © Smokingpipes, Used with permissionWhen times are uncertain and money is tight, history reveals that broad marketplaces turn toward that which is well known. Conservatism in customs and values shows up in aesthetic dimensions, too. When familiarity is valued more than change, the love of the known dampens innovation.

While some adventuresome spirits continue their explorations undaunted, for most of us gravity’s center settles on predictability. In turbulent times, there is refuge in continuity and calm. This seems as true in pipes as it is in other passions. There is a certain “I-know-it-when-I-see-it” quality in the classical paradigm.

Looking backwards comforts, no matter how adventuresome one’s eye. The past cannot help but inform our understanding of the present and shape the vision of the future into which we wish to live. We grasp those ideas and ideals that have persevered to derive solace from the steadfastness of their appeal.

The billiard, the bulldog, the apple, and the dublin. These shapes endure – collectively a keel on the ship of pipes. Alongside a few cousins, these shapes comprise what is classic. Is this what we love most about classics? Familiarity in a landscape of change?

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Longings

Bent Bulldog by Barling (pre-transition)Earlier this month, I had a blissful week of pipe-smoking. A professional engagement took me to Park City, Utah for a week where I spoke a couple of times on the intersection of individual identity and community. My client lodged my wife and me at the St. Regis Deer Crest Resort which sits perched at about 8,000 feet on a mountain saddle above Deer Valley. A spacious patio was immediately outside our rooms. I spent several hours out there every morning in a heavy sweater, sipping coffee and watching the sun dawn over the surrounding Wasatch Range.

I welcomed the crisp, 50-degree sunny mornings with my pipes. They were a big change from the searing, humid weeks I’d spent recently in Washington and in Arkansas. I had just returned from an outdoor photo shoot where we worked for a week of 16-hour days. Although I’d taken my pipes with me, it was so hot and I was so wilted that I never unzipped my pipe bag.

It has been so unrelentingly hot this summer, that I have smoked my pipes very little. Between the heat and the mosquitos, I have ventured onto the patio few times this summer, except to grill fish or water my Japanese maple.

So, for me, Park City was a time to reflect, to think, to smoke my pipes, and to take a breather. Few places so calm and inspire me as the high Rocky Mountains. I grew up in similar environs, just outside Yellowstone Park on the eastern slopes of Wyoming’s Absaroka range. The scent of evergreens and mountain grasses is no less evocative to me than a Seamus Heaney sonnet or a Bach partita. My love for the Rockies was planted so early in my being that now, in my 58th year, its taproot encircles and cradles my heart.

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