Purged, or it is not welded
Every stainless joint that carries load is purged and shielded end to end, and the purge log goes in your folder. A sugared, purple root is a joint that has already failed quietly — and we do not ship those.
The Chalk Yard coachworks
A studio of nine hands
Nine hands in a converted coachworks off the Chalk Yard: a plasma bay, three TIG stations on an argon manifold, a blasting cabinet and a polishing bench that sees more hours than the oven. Small enough that the welder who lays your bead answers the phone; certified enough — AWS D1.1 on the structural wall — that the parishes’ builders price from the same card as their architects.
What we do
Three commissions, three tempers
The splash-zone rail
Twelve metres of 316 stainless along the tidal stair, TIG throughout with the root purged and the beads passed twice — mirror where the hand lands, brushed where the gull lands. Welded with backing gas so the beads never orange; the tea-staining the coast leaves is a cloth’s work, not a welder’s.
The courtyard gate
A five-bar frame in mild steel: MIG at 24 volts where the load lives, a TIG cap at 105–120 amps where the eye lands, then hot-dip galvanized under a matte black bake. The hinge posts carry the mass — the frame only has to stay square and handsome, and it will, for decades.
The stair for the narrow house
A paired-stringer switchback with white oak treads bolted through slotted holes — steel and wood both move with the seasons, and the slots are how they stay friends. Load-rated for the run, clear-coated to keep the grind marks honest, and narrow enough to turn in a hall the width of a wheelbarrow.
The five the drawing table hears
Argon, amps and answers
Answers before prices, because in a studio the answers are the price. The Chalk Yard line at the bottom runs six to five, tide and harvest permitting.
Why does argon matter to my railing?
Because molten stainless steals nitrogen and oxygen from the air the instant it can, and the stolen joint looks like sugar and behaves like a rumour. Argon — on the face of the puddle, and backing the root from behind — keeps the air away while the metal is vulnerable. It costs the studio an hour per run and saves the joint forever; it is not an upgrade, it is the process.
What settings does the studio actually run?
TIG on 1/8-inch wall at 105–120 amps, 3/32 lanthanated tungsten, 308 filler on stainless — the stack-of-dimes pace. Structural laps inside frames go MIG at 24 volts; 16-gauge sheet drops to 60 amps. The log beside each joint records machine, range and welder, so anyone can check our arithmetic in thirty years.
Stainless, or steel finished to look like it?
Within sight of salt water, stainless earns its invoice and we will say so. Inland and sheltered, hot-dip galvanized under powder does the same job for two-thirds the price — and we will say that too. What we refuse is selling the cheap one dressed as the dear one; the parishes remember, and so does the rust.
Galvanize or powder-coat — how do you choose?
By the map, together. Powder alone indoors: baked at 200°C, five times the life of paint. Outdoors we hot-dip first and powder over — the zinc takes the weather, the colour takes the compliments. Zinc-rich primer, seventy-five microns of it, is honest for dry interiors and a two-season promise anywhere else; the schedule names which of the three, and why, before you sign.
How long is the wait?
Commissions run four to six weeks through drawing, floor and finish — the polishing bench is usually the bottleneck, and we say which week at the quote. Repairs and re-hangs go out inside the week; a studio this size does not keep a queue it cannot see the end of.
The studio, in figures
The Weald parishes, 2025 — 2026
Recent commissions
Six pieces from the last year, photographed the day the folders landed. Stainless reads differently in every light — these are the actual beads, not renders.
How it runs
Commission to handover
The measure and the metals
Tape, laser, and a conversation about where the piece will live — salt, shelter or showroom decides the alloy before the drawing does.
The drawing and the card
A dimensioned drawing with the load rating on its face, the alloy and finish named, and the studio’s fixed price underneath. You sign the drawing, not just the number.
The floor
Plasma-nested parts, frames pinned square, root passes purged and caps laid at walking pace — every carrying joint logged with its amp range and the welder’s initials.
The finish and the hang
Blasted, passivated or powdered per the schedule; anchors torqued, guards gauged to the code push, and the folder left on your table with the purge log in it.
The tidal stair is welded in places a cloth will never reach again, so the beads had to be right the first time. Anvil & Argon purged every root, logged every joint, and then handed the harbour board a folder the surveyor called “the first ornamental package I have been glad to receive”. Two winters of salt spray later, the rail still reads like the day it was passed.
Bring the drawing, or the wall it goes on
Architect’s drawing, napkin sketch, or a photograph of the gap — all three start a Chalk Yard commission, and the finish conversation starts with where the piece will live. forge@anvilandargon.example