The Willem Barentsz Spoon – The Journey and the Carving of a Replica

Sometimes, the challenge doesn’t lie in inventing something new, but in unlocking something old. This spoon, found in the log shelter built by the Willem Barentsz crew on Nova Zembla, is one such example.

In this blog, I’ll take you along on the process of making a replica of the Willem Barentsz spoon. What choices do you make? How do you stay true to the original, and where is there room for interpretation? And what can this spoon teach us about the people who once used it?

But first, a brief account of the journey.

One evening, while searching through the digital archives of Dutch museums for historical spoons, this fragment of a small spoon immediately caught my attention. Powerfully carved and vividly decorated — made by someone who knew exactly what they were doing, using simple tools and a strong sense of form.

Intrigued, I looked up what was known about the spoon. Place of discovery: The Saved House (Beholden Huys) on Nova Zembla. I was instantly captivated. This was no ordinary spoon, but a tangible piece of Dutch history, connected to one of the most famous expeditions in the Netherlands’ past — that of Willem Barentsz third journey to find a route around ‘The North’.

The story behind this spoon made it even more fascinating. Usually, the story of a spoon is lost to time, but in this case, we know surprisingly much. It was inevitable: I had to carve a replica of the Willem Barentsz spoon.

Through the Eyes of a Spoon Carver

I am not a historian, archaeologist, or expert in history or historical objects. What I share here comes from my own experience as a spoon carver. Yet, this journey of discovery was not one I made alone. Many people have helped me along the way, and I am deeply grateful to them.

Carving a Replica Is Never a Solo Effort

In particular, I would like to thank Hans Piena (Special Professor for the Royal Antiquarian Society and Curator of Works at the Dutch Open Air Museum), Jan de Hond (Curator at the Rijksmuseum), Nina Buitenhuis and Dennis Kemper (both Depot Coordinators at the Netherlands Collection Centre), and Silke Lange (Senior KNA Archaeologist/Archaeobotanist) for their time, knowledge, and valuable insights.

The Journey and Het Behouden Huys

Why Did They Set Out on This Voyage?

On May 10, 1596, two ships departed from Amsterdam in search of a northern sea route to the East. The hope was that this route would be safer, faster, and above all, more economical. The fleet split near Spitsbergen: Jan Corneliszoon Rijp soon turned back due to heavy ice, while Willem Barentsz and Jacob van Heemskerck continued toward Nova Zembla. Their attempts to navigate through the ice failed, and in September 1596, just after deciding to turn back, they became permanently trapped in the ice.

Disaster Strikes – Trapped in the Pack Ice

With their ship frozen in the pack ice, the crew built a log cabin to survive the winter: Het Behouden Huys. The harsh conditions — freezing cold, lack of daylight, and vitamin deficiency — made the wintering incredibly difficult. Hunting Arctic foxes and polar bears kept them alive, but by the end of the winter several men were seriously ill.

What Was on the Menu?

They cooked one-pot meals over coal fires and used wooden bowls, plates, (pewter) spoons, and table knives. Their diet mainly consisted of durable dried foods that had to be soaked before use: grains for porridge, ship’s biscuit, and stews with beans, peas, stockfish, and salted meat. There was also beer and wine, although most of the beer spoiled after the first frost, forcing them to drink mostly water.

The Return Journey

In June 1597, they set out in small boats they had made seaworthy themselves for the return voyage, while their ship still lay trapped in the ice. The journey back was dangerous and exhausting. Willem Barentsz, gravely ill, died on the way after falling into the icy water. The twelve survivors eventually reached Kola, where, by chance, they were rescued by Jan Corneliszoon Rijp. On November 1, 1597, they finally returned to Amsterdam.

Nova Zembla Rediscovered

Almost 300 years later, in 1871, the Norwegian captain Elling Carlsen — searching for new hunting grounds — discovered the cabin, now known as Het Behouden Huys. The cabin and its contents were literally frozen in time under a thick layer of ice that had preserved everything.

The Discovery of the Willem Barentsz Spoon and How It Came back to the Netherlands

The voyage — was already world-famous in its own time — and thus the discovery of Het Behouden Huys, captured the imagination of wealthy travelers. In the years that followed, several explorers went in search of the cabin. It was the English sportsman Charles Gardiner who, in 1876, brought a fragment of the wooden fist spoon (vuistlepel) back to England. He sold the spoon, along with other artifacts, to bookseller W.E. Goulden from Canterbury for 250 guilders. In 1892, the Dutch Ministry of Foreign Affairs bought the objects from Goulden at cost price, after which the spoon eventually became part of the Rijksmuseum collection.

The Willem Barentsz Spoon

A Fist Spoon

In the museum’s description, the Willem Barentsz spoon is referred to as a ‘vuistlepel‘ (fist spoon_)— a short type of eating spoon common in the late Middle Ages and the early modern period (up to around 1600). These spoons were on average about 11 centimeters long, with a pear-shaped bowl roughly 5 centimeters wide and 5.5 centimeters long. In the Middle Ages, various models of fist spoons were in use, ranging from simple and rough to finely made with modest decoration. Because of their compact size, they were easy to carry, and the short handle reduced the risk of breakage — an important consideration when you might be at sea for months. In fact, the fist spoon is the historical counterpart of what we might now call a pocket spoon.

Notable Details

A striking decorative detail is the long triangle that extends from the bowl into the handle. The handle also features vertical lines intersected by horizontal stop lines. This ornamentation resembles the style of ancient Greek columns — in this case, Doric — which came back into fashion during the Renaissance (1400–1600). It is this decoration, combined with the high quality of the carving, that makes the spoon so remarkable.

Preliminary Research

I began by searching online for similar spoons from the same period. Several examples of this model have been preserved, giving us a good idea of the original shape and proportions. The decorative triangle extending from the bowl to the handle also appears on another find, suggesting that this detail was more common among the better-crafted spoons of this type. I did not find this decoration on the simpler, rougher spoons from the same period.

Unique Decoration

The vertical ornamentation on the handle is something I haven’t encountered elsewhere. Comparing images of other finds can provide a wealth of information and help fill in missing details about this spoon. But ultimately, you want to study the spoon in person to see whether your assumptions hold true. This is also crucial when carving the most accurate possible replica — and for testing whether your interpretations are plausible.

Visit to the Collection Depot

The spoon is kept at the Central Collection Centre of the Netherlands (CC NL), a large, impressive, and ultra-modern building filled with beautiful and fascinating objects. It was a great honor — and incredibly exciting — to be able to study this unique, old, and fragile spoon in person.

We first met in a general area of the depot, where introductions were made and the conditions of the visit were discussed — such as not being allowed to touch the spoon. Only after that was I granted access to the depot itself, where the Willem Barentsz spoon is preserved in a carefully climate-controlled environment.

The Spoon Fragment of the Willem Barentsz Spoon – A Production Spoon

The Willem Barentsz spoon has all the characteristics of a production spoon. With this type of spoon, it’s important that it can be made quickly and efficiently in large quantities. It was carved from straight-grained wood, likely from a larger-diameter piece, and cut radially from the log. This method is more efficient and predictable. From larger-diameter wood, you can extract nice rectangular blanks, resulting in less material loss and requiring less time and effort to rough out the shape. This way, more spoons can be made from less wood than when using smaller logs and cutting the spoons tangentially.

An Efficient Form

The main shape of the spoon tapers from wide at the bowl to narrow at the tip of the handle. This means the grain direction remains consistent during carving, making the process faster. The wood species is most likely beech, although no formal wood identification has been done. Beech is well-suited for carving small, strong shapes quickly — ideal for a pocket-sized spoon.

Although it’s a production spoon, this one is remarkably precise and refined in its execution. The transition from handle to bowl is skillfully shaped, with smooth, angled curves that emphasize the spoon’s elegant appearance. It has clean lines, balanced proportions, and strong transitions — giving the impression that it was carved by a highly skilled spoon maker.

Measuring the Willem Barentsz Spoon and Creating a Template

During my first visit to the collection depot, I measured, sketched, and made a technical drawing of the Willem Barentsz spoon. For example, one thing that isn’t clearly visible in the photograph is the spoon’s considerable curvature. But what truly stood out — something neither visible in the Rijksmuseum photo nor mentioned in its description — was the small cross: an ownership mark carved into the back of the spoon. Unfortunately, it’s not known which crew member used this mark, but it is certainly remarkable and worth noting. More on that later.

Photographing the Spoon

I photographed the spoon from several angles to have a visual reference for creating the template and for carving the replica. In the end, I made three templates: one of the front, one of the back, and one of the side. Because the wood had discolored over time and part of the bowl was missing, it was difficult to determine exactly where the deepest point of the bowl had been — and how deep it actually was.

Challenges in Carving the Replica

When carving the replica of the Willem Barentsz spoon, one of the main challenges was finding the right proportions, shape, and bowl thickness. The most difficult part turned out to be achieving the correct curvature of the bowl. Then I remembered that in England, spoon carvers once used a different type of spoon knife than the ones we commenly

use today. Instead of the now common compound knife — where a large radius transitions into a small curled tip — they worked with a large, single-radius knife (see also my blog on spoon knives if you’d like to learn more about this).

Finds of Hook Knives

After some research, I discovered that late-medieval examples of such knives had been found in the Low Countries. This led me to experiment with a modern version of that knife type — the 65mm TWCA-Cam by Nic Westermann. Very quickly, my results improved significantly. The hollow of the bowl began to resemble that of the original much more closely, and the proportions finally fell into place.

Back to the Depot

The transition from the neck to the bowl remained a challenge. In the end, I carved several variations and returned to the depot with my tools and a few of my replica spoons. After explaining the difficulties I had encountered, I was allowed — wearing gloves — to carefully touch the Willem Barentsz spoon to feel the shape and thickness of the bowl. This turned out to match the versions I had carved using the TWCA-Cam knife.

I was also able to directly compare my spoons and tools with the original spoon in the depot, which further confirmed my assumptions about both the knife’s shape and the spoon’s form. I took another close look at the shoulder transitions, and with this new insight, carving the replicas became much easier. My results improved noticeably.

Why Carving a Replica of the Willem Barentsz Spoon Matters

I learned a great deal from carving the replica. Not only did I discover that I had been using the “wrong” tool, but I also uncovered several remarkable features of the spoon itself. For instance, it turned out to be a balancing spoon. This means that when you place it on its bowl, the handle stays upright — a result of the short, lightweight handle in proportion to the larger, heavier bowl.

I also found that the decorative triangle extending from the bowl into the handle was created by facets carved on both sides of the spoon, rather than being the result of the vertical decorative lines. The triangle emerges before the final decoration is added. These facets are part of the way the transition from handle to neck was shaped. Carving such facets is done quickly and with strong, controlled cuts to achieve a clean result — perfectly suited to refining a production spoon. I also discovered an efficient method for shaping the transition into the neck.

The Vertical Decoration

The vertical decorative lines were made with a fine gouge, probably with a diameter of 2 mm or less. This can be seen in the semicircular shape at the end of each facet, right where the neck of the handle begins. Before these lines were cut with the gouge, the horizontal stop lines were carved first and slightly deepened with a straight knife. This is evident from the way the gouge cuts begin just after the stop cut. If the horizontal lines had been added afterward, the gouge marks would have been interrupted and cut off at the end.

Crooked Stop Cuts

The vertical gouge work fits beautifully with the overall design of the spoon and reinforces the decorative point that runs from the bowl into the handle. The result looks harmonious. Yet, something caught my attention: each time I made the stop cuts myself, I thought that an experienced spoon carver would never make them so crooked. In addition, one of the gouge lines doesn’t continue all the way to the end but stops halfway through the decorative point. That’s the kind of mistake you might make once or twice, but not something you’d expect to find on a spoon of this quality.

Something Doesn’t Add Up

After carving the Willem Barentsz spoon several times, I grew increasingly certain: something wasn’t right. The quality of the gouge work and the stop cuts is noticeably lower than that of the spoon’s overall carving. The decorative point is clearly an integral part of the carving process, but the rest of the decoration doesn’t align with it. The stop cuts and gouge lines were added afterward, once the spoon itself had already been completed. Moreover, the work appears to have been done by someone with less experience.

Did More Than One Person Work on This Spoon?

Could it be that the decoration was added by someone else? Perhaps by the spoon’s owner — maybe out of boredom? At that time, almost everyone carried a knife, but a gouge? Would such a tool have been on board? People who built a replica of the ship told me that a gouge was not part of the standard toolkit for maintenance or repairs. But could it have been brought along as a personal item?

And so began a new search in the digital archive for the tools that had been found…

The Ownership Mark on the Willem Barentsz Spoon

And yes — one small burin was found bearing the same ownership mark as the spoon. It’s roughly the same size as the spoon itself, though not shaped in a way that would allow it to have been used for the gouge work. Still, it’s not unthinkable that it was part of a set — just as burins are still sold in sets today. The staff at the depot seem to have noticed the connection as well, since both objects are stored together.

Whether the spoon’s owner added the decoration on the handle himself, we’ll never know for sure. What is certain, however, is that he didn’t take the spoon with him on the return journey — and it is precisely because of that that we now have the chance to study this remarkable object.

Conclusion

What makes the Willem Barentsz spoon so special is not just its shape or decoration, but above all the story hidden within it. When carving a replica, the goal is not merely to reproduce it exactly, but to understand it anew. What tools did the maker use? What do you learn when you follow the same lines, make the same choices, and allow the same mistakes? What does that reveal about the making process — and how does it influence your own carving? By carving old forms again, they are not only preserved but also brought back to life. In that act of carving, the past meets the present — and an old model finds its voice once more.

Carving a replica of the Willem Barentsz spoon was not just a technical exercise, but a way to get closer to the maker and user of the original. By retracing their steps and repeating their decisions, you learn not only about technique, but also about the people who once made and used these spoons. And that is precisely what makes the recreation of historical objects so valuable.

The knowledge and insights I gained during this process are something I love to share with others. I do this through lectures, demonstrations, and workshops at spoon-carving festivals and museums both in the Netherlands and abroad. On request, I can also share my experience at your event, organization, or gathering.

Would you like to carve this spoon yourself? You can find the templates along with some other historic models in my webshop.