Doylestown woman brings passion to artful engraving

Twenty-five years ago, as she imagined her life in middle age, Tira Mitchell might have envisioned herself playing the flute for a major orchestra.

She had adopted the flute at 8, and by the time she graduated from high school in Upstate New York, she had studied at the Tanglewood Institute, and taken private lessons and master classes with top flutists at the Boston Symphony, the Philadelphia Orchestra, and the New York Philharmonic. She excelled sufficiently to be chosen to perform with the Empire State Youth Orchestra.

She clearly had a gift and, for a while, a passion. But at Boston University, where she began as a music major, she decided there was more to do and see than spend eight hours a day practicing in a soundproof closet. She switched her major to business and set out on a path that led to the discovery of another talent and passion.

Today, Mitchell is an engraver of growing renown. She has engraved letters, logos, and ornamental designs on custom motorcycles, knives, firearms, bells, and parts for antique cars. Her engraving of the Tonight Show logo was given to Jay Leno, and her artwork adorns a collector bike owned by James Hetfield of Metallica. Recently, she engraved the bronze bell and light holders for the historic racing yacht Elf, as well as the saluting cannon for the Hanuman, a 138-foot superyacht.

Along the way, she has earned a reputation for accepting challenges that others shy away from because they're too large, too time-consuming, or seemingly impossible.

"I've attracted some very difficult projects," Mitchell says, "probably because I don't have the sense to say no. Sometimes I literally have to psych myself up."

Mitchell, 42, married and the mother of two, works in her basement on the outskirts of Doylestown. With a high-powered illuminating microscope and a vise and jig that move in multiple planes, she carves fine lines into iron, steel, brass, bronze, copper, gold, silver, and titanium.

Her instrument is a buzzing, palm-held pneumatic tool with a tungsten-carbide tip or graver. It is connected to a small compressor and, like a tiny jackhammer, strikes the metal at up to 4,500 strokes per minute.

The work requires patience, control, and concentration. Precision is compulsory, the margin for error zero. Small slips in soft metal can be burnished away, but titanium demands absolute perfection.

In engraving, especially on a round surface, Mitchell must move both the work and the cutting tool simultaneously. In guiding the graver, Mitchell not only must follow the contours of the letter or design but also must adjust for the depth of the cut and the cant of the groove, which determines how the engraving will catch and reflect light. A slogan posted over her work bench suggests her approach: "Because good is the enemy of great."

Her talent is the product of both nature and nurture. A grandmother and a great-aunt were painters. A grandfather was a plumber, an electrician, and a paperhanger. Because he had large hands, he often recruited her for mechanical tasks in tight spaces. By 7, she had mastered several hand tools and was skillful with a whittling knife.

"I always liked working with my hands," Mitchell says. "Instead of playing with dolls, I drilled, sawed, and painted things."

After college, Mitchell did computer programming in the financial field while her husband, Rob, earned his law degree. On weekends, she attended craft shows, pad and pencil in hand, searching for something she could make or do to earn money so she could stay home with her children in the future. She discovered filigreed ostrich eggs, which eventually led to an interest in engraving and her metier in metal.

When her husband was stationed at Travis Air Force Base in California, Mitchell took a sample of her work - a "hideous" piece, she says now, executed with an inexact rotary tool - to a motorcycle shop that specialized in custom bikes. She was looking for a sponsor, someone to help pay for training and tools. The shop owner, Mike Huffman, offered a proposition: If she bought the tools and learned the craft, he would supply a cycle for a tryout.

Mitchell accepted. It was the fall of 1995. She labored over the design in the garage from 9 p.m. to 4 a.m. daily, while her infant slept. The scheme was art deco - diamond-shaped patterns and many straight lines running over the curved surfaces of the rear struts and the derby cover, a decorative disc that hides the clutch.

After four weeks and 180 hours, she showed her work to Huffman. He was delighted. The Harley Softail was exhibited at a Lake Tahoe casino.

Since then, Mitchell has applied her art to about a dozen other theme and collector motorcycles, including a Norma Jean/Marilyn Monroe bike (with the sexpot's signature engraved on the gas tank dashboard), a Donnie Smith-designed Gibson Guitar bike, and a Kim Jensen-designed Ferrari theme bike. She also teaches engraving.

Jerry Martin, who owns and operates Charger Metals, a Philadelphia company that specializes in metal restoration and refinishing, relies on Mitchell to re-create engravings as well as stamped lettering and insignia effaced by wear and corrosion on vintage car parts, such as headlight buckets.

"She can take a piece where all the lettering was wiped away, and as long as she has a duplicate to copy from, she can recut the original engraving so accurately you'd never know it was missing," Martin says. "That is a great talent."

Mike Smith, a Pennsburg motorcycle aficionado, retained Mitchell to engrave several parts for his 1996 Harley-Davidson Dyna Wide Glide.

"I have dealt with other engravers," Smith says. "All do decent work. Tira does outstanding work. . . . She's truly passionate, and actually gets excited about the project."

Mitchell used to display her engravings at craft shows, but grew discouraged because few seemed to appreciate the time and effort her work entailed. Lately, that has changed, she says. In engraving circles, she has built a name, and some of her pieces are on the verge of achieving collector status.

"People are beginning to realize it's special," Mitchell says. "It's made by someone you can talk to. It's unique. It has character."