Smith Journal — January 2018

113 SMITH JOURNAL

THE LOCKS ON A ARON SMITH’S
MELBOURNE HOME ARE NOTHING
SPECIAL. “THEY’RE JUST NORMAL
MODERN LOCKS,” HE SAYS. “THEY
LOOK STURDY AND ROBUST, AND
ARE PROBABLY GOING TO DETER
99.9 PER CENT OF PEOPLE.”

..........................................

But in the small workshop out the back,
Smith finds himself surrounded by ancient
locks and keys. A locksmith specialising in
traditional techniques, Smith calls himself
the Keyhole Surgeon. Among his more
interesting jobs, he has worked on locks from
Pentridge Prison and the National Gallery
of Victoria’s collection of antique furniture.
He’s also made a key for an antique Indonesian
safe and dealt with a pair of tiny handcuffs
from “bushranger territory, used to secure
juvenile offenders.”

To do his work, he uses a bunch of 1800s-style
hand tools. “The best way to look after these
locks is to use the same techniques and tools
that were used in their construction. I have

lathes, saws, measuring devices, a range of

different hammers and screwdrivers. Mostly,

though, it’s files, because it takes a lot of shaping

to get a key working inside an old lock.”

Smith, who was always “a nerdy kid”, fell into

locksmithing by chance. He studied science

at university, but didn’t enjoy it. “I thought it

was what I wanted to do, but let’s just say my

chemistry teacher and I didn’t see eye to eye,

and he told me it was time to pick a different

career.” Smith happened to see an ad for a

locksmith, and “the rest, as they say, is history.”

In Smith’s case, it really is history. One of

the teachers he studied under during his

apprenticeship was the last locksmith to

work at Pentridge Prison. “He was passionate

about old locks, and put me on the same

path. I found that I really enjoyed them.

I’m interested in their history, and I love the

way they work. You can see what people were

thinking when they were making them.”

As someone with a mischievous streak,

Smith has another side to his passion, too.

“I like defeating something designed to

stop me learning its secret,” he admits.

Since locks were first made in pre-Egyptian

times, there have been, Smith estimates, tens

of thousands of different ones. “But the main

mechanisms come back to three main types

• the pin tumbler, the lever mechanism and
  wafer mechanism.” When it comes to the most
  intricate locks, however, Smith says it’s not
  always immediately obvious which kind of
  mechanism it might be, or how many features
  there are inside that need to be correctly
  aligned. “The term for that is ‘security through
  obscurity’; it involves a lot of trial and error to
  get to the correct answer.”

The longest it’s taken him to pick a lock is

“weeks and weeks and weeks.” The process,

he says, is “a matter of translating what

you’re feeling with your fingers and hearing

with your ears to a three-dimensional model

you’ve built in your brain. It’s almost like

X-ray vision.” At times like that, he’ll find

himself staring into the middle distance,

“concentrating on what my hands are doing.”

>>

the keyhole surgeon

AARON SMITH WAS TRAINING TO BECOME A

CONVENTIONAL LOCKSMITH WHEN HE STUMBLED

ON AN OLD, RUSTED-OUT SIDE OF THE CRAFT.

Writer Leta Keens Portrait Photographer Elsie El-asmar

Studio Photographer Emily Thiang