Martin Jarvis — A Lifetime of Making, Problem-Solving and Discovery
# Martin Jarvis — A Lifetime of Making, Problem-Solving and Discovery
## Seeing Things Differently
I think we all see things differently. I certainly do.
Looking back through my old school reports many years later, my family and I found ourselves laughing at some of the descriptions of me. I was labelled a troublemaker, a daydreamer, and even an “IDIOT” written in bold red ink, along with comments suggesting I was not reaching my potential.
Those reports captured the child the school saw, but they did not capture the whole person.
I was, and still am, dyslexic. When I was at school, dyslexia was not understood in the way it is today. The difficulties I had with reading, writing and mathematics often overshadowed the things I was good at. I had extra maths tuition to try to help me, but I still struggled.
School was something I genuinely hated. I would often feel sick in the mornings knowing I had to go. My experience was made harder by the way some teachers treated me. In particular, my English teacher regularly picked on me, and I often felt that the headmaster and other staff had already formed an opinion of who I was.
But there were two subjects where I felt different: Art and Metalwork.
These were the subjects where my way of thinking made sense. I could create, experiment and solve problems practically. Here, my abilities became visible.
I achieved an O Level in Art and a Grade 1 CSE with Distinction in Metalwork. Ironically, I was not allowed to take O Level Metalwork because my lack of maths ability and my dyslexia were considered barriers.
Looking back, that contradiction says a lot. The area where I showed the most natural ability was also an area where I was prevented from progressing further.
During my school years, there were also assumptions made about my family. Because my father owned his own business, a family fishmongers, some people at school seemed to assume we were wealthy. The reality was very different.
As the younger brother, I often had the usual hand-me-downs. We were simply a normal working family.
That experience stayed with me — the feeling that people often see what they expect to see rather than what is actually there.
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## Finding My Way
From an early age, I was drawn to working with metal and planned on becoming a silversmith. I loved the idea of creating something by hand, shaping materials and turning ideas into reality.
Unfortunately, the traditional route into silversmithing was not available to me. The barriers I faced at school, particularly around dyslexia, made that path difficult to follow.
After leaving school, I spent some time working with my father in the family fishmongers business. It was simply where life took me at that point, but I knew I wanted something more hands-on and practical.
The opportunity came when I started an apprenticeship as a rally mechanic.
That decision would begin a journey that would take me from engines, to machining, to advanced manufacturing — and eventually back to where I had started: creating with my hands.
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## Learning by Doing
Starting an apprenticeship as a rally mechanic introduced me to a world where practical ability mattered. Engines, machines and mechanical systems made sense to me. I could see how things fitted together, understand problems and work towards solutions.
From there, my career developed naturally through engine building, manual machining and eventually CNC machining. I found myself drawn towards manufacturing because it combined precision, creativity and problem-solving — the same qualities that had always interested me.
While working as a manual turner, I could see that CNC machining was going to be the future. The company I worked for had one CNC machine, but they had no programmers or operators with the skills to use it properly.
I asked if they would train me.
The answer was no. I was told that if I wanted to learn, I would have to pay for the training myself.
Rather than accept that as the end of the opportunity, I took the manuals home and started teaching myself. I studied how the machines worked, how programming worked and how the different processes came together.
Eventually, I reached the point where I had to stop reading and start doing. I found the confidence to turn the machine on and begin learning through experience.
That decision changed everything.
Over time, I progressed from learning one machine to programming and operating three CNC machines independently. I continued expanding my knowledge, teaching myself CNC EDM and developing my understanding of increasingly complex manufacturing processes.
My career progressed from operator, to programmer, to CNC department manager, and eventually I took responsibility for managing the whole workshop.
I have often been described as being like a dog with a bone. Once I become interested in solving a problem, I do not easily let it go. I keep learning, experimenting and refining until I find a solution.
## Making What I Needed
Throughout my life, I have always worked with the idea that if something is needed and it does not exist, there is usually a way to create it.
Necessity has always been the mother of invention.
I have never been someone who was limited by not having the perfect equipment. If I needed a tool, a fixture or a piece of machinery, my first thought was often: “How can I make one?”
When I started making knives, I did not have all the specialist equipment normally associated with knife making. My first knives were produced using a homemade filing jig adapted from my Black & Decker Workmate. From that starting point, I built what I needed, including my own forge and hydraulic press.
The process was always the same: identify the problem, think through the solution, then build it.
Even today, my workshop reflects that philosophy. Space is limited, so equipment has to earn its place. Bench grinders and other machinery are mounted on slide-out or folding brackets so they can be used when needed and stored away afterwards.
When I needed a ring roller for a particular project, I made one. When borrowing a slip roller from a friend’s workshop became inconvenient because it relied on finding a time that worked for both of us, I designed and built my own solution.
Rather than have a large machine permanently taking up valuable space, I created a unit that could bolt onto my welding bench when required and then be removed and stored away.
This way of working has become part of who I am.
**The limitations do not stop the ideas — they often create them.**
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## Designing and Racing My Own Machine
My approach to problem-solving eventually led me into motorcycle racing.
While competing in the British Supermono series, I decided to take on a challenge that combined everything I had learned: designing and building my own race motorcycle chassis.
I designed and built a complete race motorcycle chassis from the ground up, including my own frame jig, frame, petrol tank and rear swinging arm.
At the time, many builders would use a suitable existing motorcycle swingarm adapted to their design. Instead, I chose to design and manufacture my own.
Every part of the process involved solving problems, making decisions and learning as I went.
Building a race bike is one thing. Proving it on the track is another.
As a privateer competing against established machines and teams, the bike proved itself. It won races and finished fourth overall in the championship. With two crashes affecting the season, there was a realistic possibility of finishing even higher.
After that championship ended, I continued racing the bike in another class for several more years. Although it was eventually out-powered by newer and more powerful machines, it still held its own.
Eventually, I sold the motorcycle. The fact that it continued winning races after leaving my hands was one of the greatest compliments the design could receive.
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## Finding My Way Back to Making
For many years, making was part of my working life. I spent decades solving engineering problems, building machines and creating solutions, but I had not yet found my way back to the creativity I had discovered as a child.
That changed in 2020.
On Friday 13th March, just before the Covid lockdowns began, I was made redundant. After many years in manufacturing, I suddenly found myself at home, approaching my 60th birthday, with uncertainty about what the future held.
It was a difficult period. Being isolated at home, I struggled with depression and drank more than I should have. For the first time in many years, I felt as though I had lost my direction.
Then, one evening, an old colleague called to see if I was alright.
Of course, like many people, I told him I was fine. But we ended up having a good conversation, reminiscing about the past.
During that conversation, we started talking about a television documentary we had both seen about Japanese swordsmiths and their lifelong pursuit of perfection. The idea of spending a lifetime refining a craft, always learning and always improving, stayed with me.
After we said goodbye, something changed.
I realised I still had the tools, the knowledge and the ability to make things. I decided I would try making a traditional knife.
I made what I needed. I built a filing jig, created my own forge and adapted my workshop to allow me to begin learning the craft.
That first knife became the beginning of something much bigger.
Over time, I made hundreds of knives, most of which I gave away to friends and family.
The process reminded me of something I had known since childhood:
I was happiest when I was creating.
## The Beginning of Mesmerising Metal
The move from craftsman to artist began unexpectedly.
A friend asked if I would make them a motorcycle-themed weather vane. At first, I was not particularly inspired by the idea.
Then, one night while lying in bed, an idea came to me.
I got up, went down to the workshop and started laying out old chains and sprockets. Once I had a plan forming, I went back to bed.
The following day, I started building.
When the weather vane was finished and delivered, my friend absolutely loved it. It is still standing and moving in the wind at her farm in Cornwall today.
That simple project opened a new door.
My weather vanes became more intricate, with more moving parts and more personality. I realised I was not just making objects — I was creating something that could make people stop, smile and wonder.
This led to Wheelie Windy, a motorcycle sculpture made from nuts, bolts, chains and sprockets that performs a wheelie in the wind and has been running reliably for several years.
The skills I had developed over decades — machining, fabrication, understanding mechanisms and solving problems — were no longer just tools for industry. They became the foundation for creating art.
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## Becoming a Kinetic Sculptor
As my confidence grew, my work moved beyond weather vanes into more abstract kinetic sculpture.
I became fascinated by the relationship between shape, movement, wind, light and the environment around the sculpture.
Every idea brought new questions:
How will it move?
How will it react to the wind?
What bearings will it need?
How can I bring this idea to life?
Yin Yang was inspired by the symbol itself. I spent hours studying symbols and thinking about how they could be transformed into moving metal. It became an exploration of balance, movement and opposing forces.
Eternal Flame came to me while lying awake at night. The idea appeared so clearly that I had to get up, make a rough sketch and capture it before returning to bed.
Cascade of Reflections began while trying to solve an old Rubik’s Cube I found in a drawer. I became fascinated by the patterns and possibilities rather than simply solving the puzzle.
Chaotic Symmetry was inspired while riding my motorcycle and noticing road signs. I wondered if the chevron shape could be animated. It could — but I was not happy with my first attempt, so I continued experimenting until it became something completely different.
Twisted Sister began as an experiment in fabrication, inspired by flowing shapes seen in stone carvings. I wondered if I could recreate the form in metal, but with something extra: movement. Unlike the stone versions, my sculpture interacts with the wind.
Storm Catcher became one of my largest and most ambitious builds. Created originally for a potential coastal property commission, it became a lesson in the practical side of being an artist. The commission did not progress, but the sculpture itself became something I am extremely proud of.
On a windy day, Storm Catcher comes alive. At night, colour-changing LEDs transform it again.
The experience taught me an important lesson, and today I take a deposit before beginning commissioned work.
Every piece teaches me something.
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## The Connection Between Maker and Owner
Throughout my working life, I have made many things. I have built engines, machined components, designed parts and created solutions to complex problems.
I took pride in the quality of everything I made, but there was always something missing.
In all those years, I very rarely saw the final end user receive and experience the things I had created.
That changed when I began creating sculptures.
One of the greatest joys of becoming an artist is delivering a sculpture to its new home and seeing the genuine excitement, love and respect people have for something I created with my own hands.
To hear complete strangers talk about my work, to see their reactions and to know that something that started as an idea in my head now has a place in someone else's life is incredibly rewarding.
That connection is something I never experienced in my previous work.
For me, the greatest satisfaction is not just completing a sculpture. It is seeing the happiness, curiosity and emotion it creates in other people.
That is the part of being an artist that means the most to me.
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## Today
In 2024, visiting Cotswold Sculpture Park changed how I viewed my own work. Seeing sculpture displayed in that environment made me realise that my creations had a place in the art world.
After speaking with the curator, my work was accepted for exhibition in 2025.
Today, I describe myself as a kinetic sculptor.
My work brings together everything that has shaped me: the creativity I discovered in Art and Metalwork at school, the practical knowledge gained through engineering and manufacturing, the problem-solving developed through racing and fabrication, and the curiosity that has always driven me to ask:
“What if?”
My sculptures are designed to interact with their environment. Wind, light, shadows and reflections become part of the artwork.
My design education has come through decades of hands-on experience, engineering, experimentation and problem-solving. Everything I create is shaped by curiosity, persistence and a willingness to keep learning.
People often see confidence when they look at me, but like everyone else, I have doubts and insecurities. My journey has been about finding the confidence to trust my own ideas and finally allowing the creativity that was always there to come forward.
The child who loved Art and Metalwork, the mechanic, the machinist, the racer, the inventor and the sculptor are all the same person.
**“I have spent a lifetime learning how to make things work.
Now I use those skills to create sculptures that make people stop, look and wonder.”**
