More about the die sinker's art

Raise the flag and shout out loud, campers, we've got a reader! To answer the inquiry from our commenter Steve, yes, U.S. coinage and for that matter many privately issued medals are die-struck. This inspires me to discuss the latter at some length, not that we ever go to great length for fear of inducing boredom, and perhaps even feature (go ahead, call me harlot) an item from our web page.


Conrad Egge arrived in Boston from Germany during 1867. His business at Province Court was founded in 1872, and he later moved to larger quarters at 97 Oliver Street. In addition to medallic art, he also sunk dies for flatware, engraved seals, and made dies for the fancy embossing of paper and leather goods. As you may see below,




the man had talent. He saw fit to sign this medal "in the die",




visible (we hope) in our enlargement at base of anvil. Allow me to risk redundancy, at least for our huge readership of one, and stress the illusion of three dimensionality created here. Note in particular the lectern, with its books, globe, scroll and quill. Our brain knows they're in the plane of the medal's flat surface, but our eyes tell us that we could reach down and pluck any one of them right off of that desk. Yes, this is partly a result of oxidation-- those dark areas which you seen inside the gears, for example-- and partly because the medal is struck in high relief (in the trade, we say it has "good die-depth"). However, the effect is also due in large part to Egge's skill as an intaglio sculptor.



Finally, a few words about Buff & Buff, originally Buff & Berger. Incorporated in 1898, the company was essentially a working museum from the 1950's until its dissolution in 1983. Inside, there was row upon row of lathes and milling machines, but only a handful had their own power sources. Most were driven by an ancient electric induction motor located in the basement which drove a system of overhead belts and pulleys. Pull the switch on this beast and everything started moving slowly, but once the full power lever was thrown, the entire factory came alive with a rythmic whirring and clacking. The instruments produced there were gems of American industrial design, now sought by collectors here and abroad. No small wonder that they chose to advertise with such an artful piece of silverware.