Having knapped a few stone points myself, I have learned that just looking at specimens of them offers the least amount of appreciation for how and why they were made. Each point was sculpted by folks whose needs and skill level was as unique as they were.

My feeling is that as the master craftsman worked, his nephews hovered close by. When a large enough waste flake was knocked off a piece of rock, they'd snatch it up and try to imitate their uncle. Their's is the wonder of pure learning.

I've had kids show me a point they'd found. Standing there, their open hand held out, with a look of anticipation and discovery in their eyes, they present their treasure. My favorites are the kids whose prize is a very crudely sculpted point. I'll sit down with them and describe the tools that were probably used to make it. We look at point for the imperfections in the stone. Pointing out how each stone flake was struck off begins to bring the process to life. I love to watch their face as I tell them that the point was probably made by a boy their own age. In a flash there is a connection between those children, one modern and one ancient.

Artifacts are a human story, a story of skill, and thought. When I pick up a piece of chert (the rock that most of our points are made of) and an antler hammer, and I bring the hammer down at just the right angle, and a chert flake snaps off to reveal a razor sharp edge, I too feel that connection. For me, learning to knap was part of the process of learning to paint "The Knapper".

Most likely everyone carried a bag or a kit. Their kit was made up of the tools they needed to perform the tasks of their economy. There were tools for knapping points, for straightening spear, dart, or arrow shafts, and for making and attaching the fletching (the feathers).

Small precision tools were wrapped together in soft deerskin and tucked into this kit. Instead of buttons, kits were held together with bone pins. They had tools to make these bone pins. Bone pin artifacts are carefully carved, often decorated, and smoothed to perfection. The pins were likely used in a number of ways.

An antler hammer would have been tucked into the same bag. Antler tines may have been used for pressure flaking. Pressure flaking can be done after the point has been roughed out. The tip of the tine is pressed against the edge of the point. Pressure from the tine pops off smaller flakes producing a serrated, razor sharp edge.

In order to gain the control required to shape a point, an edge grinder is needed. I have found that a broken piece of quohog shell makes a great edge grinder. To strike a flake off an edge with any certainty, a ground platform has to be made. Run the shell rasp along the sharp edge of the point to round out a platform. Now, flakes may be struck off using a large antler hammer.

The broken piece of quahog is a large saltwater clam. Its rough edge serves as an excellent file or rasp on wood as well.

In "The Knapper", one of the men holds an atlatl, a throwing stick, in one hand and a Florida archaic stemmed point, "a Newnan" point, in the other. The darts in the foreground are fit into the hook of the atlatl when they are to be thrown. The hook of this atlatl is made out of the canine tooth of a coyote's jaw. No artifact like it has ever been found but, knowing the native tendency for combining material skill with spiritual energy, I designed and built it. The atlatl pictured throws very well. The hunter holding the atlatl wears a bone point and several blowgun darts in his hair.

The points date the time period depicted in this painting to around the Middle Preceramic Archaic, from five to three thousand years ago.

These ancient people lived in a practical world, where the things they owned supported them and their families. Although their environment could be very difficult and challenging, they brought human care and organization to it. The world around them was powerful, mysterious, and beautiful. By fully utilizing their human gifts, their talents, they added quality to their world. They brought an element of delicate beauty to their work. In some wonderful and mysterious way, it made life better.