Blood, Sweat, and Pig's Ears

Recapping briefly, my first pig's ear had weeping mortar. And what made it a larger issue in the eyes of many was that it had been painted, greatly impacting the impression of this bricklaying. This was my first exposure to this style of masonry, and I wasn't sure how to deal with it.

As I mentioned in a previous post, one visitor suggested I grind it all off, that I rake the joints. However, I knew this was more work than I wanted or needed to bite off. Since this house had been condemned, a livable situation that was a casualty of an out-of-control dryer fire, I had a long list of pressing scopes of work. And the clock was ticking since I’d agreed to a twelve-month timeline with my lender. Even if I could have connected with someone willing and able to carry out this task, it would have certainly wrecked my limited budget.

Raking the weepers myself wasn't an option. First off, flying solo grinding out joints that totaled nearly two miles would have worn me out. And I was hesitant about my ability to estimate the time (or pricey blades and bits) the grinding/raking approach would have required. Nearly everything about this option was unappealing. At this point in my career, I had years of construction experience but not much logged in residential work. Although I was curious, I knew in my heart (and gut) that starting down the raking path was a mistake. More than intimidated, I was certain I must avoid opening up what would be a huge can of worms.

I had an issue that needed a solution and eventually landed on chipping off all the weeping mortar. The picture above shows approximately fifty square feet of joints or 250 lineal feet. If I tried to rake all these joints, besides the time and cost, I would have had to take precautions so I wasn't breathing in grit during the hours of work I would be taking on. And I'd be faced with pushing through unavoidable fatigue, battling the chance that the grinder might get away from me and either damage bricks, or jerk into the wooden shutters or the frieze board under the soffit.

If you look at that picture again, keep in mind that I was dealing with this amount of chipping times a little over forty, greater than two thousand square feet. But as I mulled it over for several days, I became more comfortable with chipping it off as my best remedy.

Rather than jumping in, I decided to do a small sample area on the back side of the house, just to see how long it took and then ultimately looked. I did about two square feet in less than five minutes. Plus, I was surprised by how much I liked the textured joints this chipping created, and to me, it was better than the painted weeping mortar I currently had.

Two thousand square feet seemed immense until I arrived at my plan to break it all up into bite sized sections—twenty-five square feet at a time. I estimated that each would take around thirty minutes, adding up to about forty man hours. I built myself a 4’x8’ cubed scaffold to work the top half of the façade and fell into a daily groove. Then, I’d slide the box frame into place for the next day and move onto some other work on my list.

This no-power-tool approach wasn’t difficult, there was minimal dust, and I settled in on one five-by-five-foot area each evening after work, then double or tripled up on weekend days until it was all knocked out.

A month after starting, the end result was unique. I found it distinct and tasteful, contrasting with what I’d inherited at the closing. It felt like progress while the rest of the house was still looking pretty rough. And in a small town full of doubters, I began to win over a growing group of interested observers.