Journey to the centre of the ball Imagine an instant we linger a moment over these few images, imprisoned for eternity on glossy paper, contemplating this small round object that so hypnotises us while we play or scrutinise a tennis match, so much so that we end up not even noticing it.
Released from their tubes, struck, smashed, scrunched – victims of guile and spin – crisscrossing the net at break-neck speed, passing from one pocket to another, one hand to another, one racket to another, thrust in joy or despair into the sky or the fencing, cast aside and so quickly forgotten like shooting stars on summer nights.
Like homage to this object too often eclipsed, “Journey to the centre of the ball” recounts a voyage of discovery – a visual adventure unveiling the milestones that mark the gestation of these precious and essential projectiles.
The aim of this expedition is to reveal the manufacturing secrets of the singular alchemists who design these spheres, inform you and share the savoir-faire of the Artengo brand… Artengo wishes you “Bon Voyage”.
And the journey begins... A precious fruit bled from trees, natural rubber, the essential raw material, is harvested then transformed into rolls before being shipped to the factory.
And Man concocts a learned blend‌ Chemical unlike the rubber, vulcanisation agents are added to the potion. In what proportions? A manufacturing secret.
And then there was material‌ Left in the capable hands of the alchemists who guard the secret proportions of their recipe, the raw material and the chemical agents are mixed and poured into a machine that converts them into round nuggets.
And Man waits patiently‌
And the material continues its long path to transformation‌ Fresh out of the oven, the half-spheres are left to cool before continuing their journey onwards, towards a new encounter.
And the rough edges begin to smooth‌ Looking trim, prim and lightly polished, the half-spheres are collected before embarking on a voyage of assembly.
And then there was a full sphere‌ Having baked a tad more in an oven that joins the half-spheres together and with the newly formed sphere injected with life-giving compressed air, what remains is a ball, albeit imperfect, but the journey is far from complete.
And the facelift begins‌ – all their roughness consigned to the past.
And the alchemist keeps watch... Scrutinising the object, he makes sure the machines, and his disciples, work diligently. He surveys the output, discarding the oddly sized, the dubiously shaped, the non-conform in weight and consistency.
And the felt is prepared... Like rolls of carpet, the felt arrives in abundant quantity. Laid prostrate on a machine, it is about to be stretched and smoothed before being cut.
And the cutting begins‌ Following scored lines, the same since Ball became Ball, the rolls of felt are subjected to the unrelenting pressure of the machine’s incisive blades.
And the morsels of felt pile up. Hand-picked, identical to the nearest millimetre, then gathered up by the hundred, they wait patiently for careful passionate hands that will bond them to the rubber spheres.
And dexterity is called upon‌ Entrusted to the patience and professionalism of a specialist workforce, the felt cut-outs are glued to the rubber by hand. Yes, by hand, and only by hand. Painstaking craftmanship.
And the oven returns‌ The warmth of the hand a few degrees light, another spell in the alchemist’s oven is required in order to perfect the gluing process and seal the joints. Once again, baking time remains a secret.
And a new machine takes centre stage... Once out of the oven, the alchemist coerces the balls into a press that rolls the balls between two plates, solidifying the glue and joints once and for all.
And now it’s time to be spruced up… -
And then, “mirror, mirror on the wall…” Looking like their Sunday best, they love parading before the eyes of these beauty of felt and prepare the balls for packaging.
And the beauty treatment continues‌ An engraver/tattoo artist brands the felt with the maker’s name: Artengo TB 920,
But to imply that the birth of a ball ends here would be to betray the professionalism of these progenitors. The work continues way beyond. After the gestation and the birth come countless hours of toil to ensure perfect roundness. In laboratories hidden from prying eyes, far from the spotlight of glory, the balls are subjected to a battery of tests. Dropped from a height of 2m50, engineers closely observe their vertical bounce and lateral movement. Examined in minute detail in a 65mm diameter machine, the fattest and thinnest will not make the cut. Compressed between vice-like metal plates, technicians observe their capacity to distort and retain the air pressure contained within. Launched at speed hundreds of times against a wall, they leave expert observers to judge their durability... Scrutinised from every angle, no defect will be tolerated. The desirable, exiled forever from the list of top-end products. signed. Played with in games, hit by dozens of players of all abilities all over the world, on every playing surface, in warm weather, cold weather, dry weather, wet weather, at consigned to the tennis ball graveyard? Only after this painstaking sequence of conception, mechanical tests and usage tests can the alchemist sit back and contemplate a job well done and regard these coveted creations with pride. But the balls’ Journey is only just beginning... ...imprisoned in this pressurised metal tube, they wait for the cover to pop, for a glimpse of light, a sure sign of freedom. In the spotlight at last...
And then there was ball‌