Masons tend to love stuff. Our lodges are filled with it—objects of curious and sometimes unknown origin, some of which members can be very attached to, or barely notice at all. Whether it’s the ubiquitous boat on the wall (a strange custom whose basis is widely argued over) or a simple set of working tools or a portrait of George Washington in Masonic regalia, we’ve all encountered numerous examples of Masonic material culture.

I’ve always been fascinated by this stuff—particularly the sentimental and handmade. I remember in particular a silver punch bowl I once saw at the Museum of Freemasonry in London that had been brought back from a lodge in India in the 1800s. Even items of much more humble origin can contain an element of beauty and tell a story—like the hand-cut officers’ jewels I’ve seen at the historic Columbia Lodge room that were crafted from food tins during the Gold Rush.

When I first got together with a small group of Masons in 2016 to form a new lodge in downtown San Francisco—what would soon become Logos № 861—it soon became clear that we’d need a a certain number of these objects for ourselves. Unlike most new groups, though, we faced two particular considerations: First, we did not have a hall of our own. Initially, we met inside the University Club on Nob Hill, while today we’re one of seven lodges that call Freemasons’ Hall our home. That meant any lodge paraphernalia would need to be mobile enough to set up and break down before and after our meetings.

More importantly, many of our members came from backgrounds in art and design. So rather than inherit or purchase lodge adornments, we decided early that we would craft our own ceremonial objects—and that they would play an important role in defining our culture.

That decision was like a flood of creative energy breaking a dam. It wasn’t just our material possessions: Wherever and however we could, our members would put their artistic signature on our lodge. Then–junior warden Benjamin Soler, a carpenter, carved the setting maul we use for the third degree. Joe Rezendes, our current master, designed and coded our website. Valdeir Faria wrote festive board ceremonies for each degree. Robert Haines, our first senior warden, created our second-degree floor cloth. As a professional printmaker and designer, I worked on our banner, aprons, and tracing boards. Then there’s the pièce de résistance: Freemasons’ Hall was designed by architect Kevin Hackett, our lodge brother.

To anchor us in this culture, we made a pact that this creativity would live on in the lodge as candidates progressed through the degrees. Today, members present “workpieces” when they’re ready for their next degree. These tend to be more artwork than homework. Pat Clos, a musician, wrote and performed songs for each of his degrees. Kevin Jones, a videographer, made his presentations as—you guessed it—videos. Most recently, Adam Dexter created an immersive audio experience for his entered apprentice workpiece.

This culture of making has defined Logos № 861, and I hope it will continue to do so for years to come. Rather than simply adding to a growing collection of stuff, I see this as a way to impart the teachings of Masonry to future members. By creating our own Masonic objects and traditions, we not only tap into our creative potential but also contribute to the ongoing narrative of Masonry. 

James Tucker is an artist, designer, and past master of Logos № 861.