Perhaps it’s an age thing, perhaps it’s a “working alone” thing, but I have had a lot of time reminiscing lately while up in the barn.
50+ years ago when as a teen and newly arrived into a real-live cabinet shop I was introduced to the deep-seated passions of European craftsmen. Prior to that I was a “scratch and dent” man at a couple of furniture stores, which, though a legitimate service, is not the same as working alongside men with years of apprentice training and decades of life on the job.
This shop was operated by a New Yawker of Greek heritage and produced amazing interiors with frame-and-panel rooms, carved detailing, and exquisite finishing. (I was an underling in the finishing room; they did not consider my week(?) at a Mohawk workshop to be really valid for what they did and trained me in their way of doing things enough that I could next catch on to the Schindler’s shop where I spent the following few years) Since the talent pool in south Florida was not up to his standards the owner hired guys from Long Island to come and work there, they were amazing craftsmen/artists.
Hans was a German-trained cabinetmaker in charge of that side of things. Joe was an Italian who was my boss in the finishing room. Both men were incredibly generous in teaching me what they knew at a level I was able to learn, and sometimes that created conflict between them when Hans said one thing and Joe said another. I mean, real conflict to the point where the big boss had to step in and send them back to their corners.
Perhaps the most intense quarrel I recall was about how to fold sandpaper. Really. Hans was insistent on the “quartering” method of preparing and using sandpaper. In this technique the sandpaper was twice folded in half along the perpendicular center lines, then cut to the cross-fold along one line then folded into a stacked quarter. According to him, this was the only way a REAL craftsman used sandpaper.
Joe bristled at both this method and the insinuation that he was not a REAL craftsman (they were both just shy of magicians in their work). According to Joe the only true method for preparing and using sandpaper was to cut the sheet in half along the short axis, then fold the paper twice to yield three identical sections when folded over. To be honest a version of this method is the one I have used more often in the subsequent five decades.
But the experience of watching two late-middle-aged men almost coming to blows over how to cut, fold, and use sandpaper was indelibly burned into my memory and provided a lot of insight into the human condition. If we want to, we can gin up conflict over the most inconsequential things while letting the existential stuff slide by with barely a notice.
Design? Pshaw. Construction details? Shrug. Finishing schedule? Whatever.
These are the handouts of the syllabus for the upcoming Introduction to Historic Woodfinishing workshop, honed over the years and the dozens of times I’ve taught the workshop. About the only changes I make any more are if the course schedule is truncated to be shorter than the three days I have here.
Sometimes a full day of handplaning is just, well, an Experience. After being mostly absent from the shop for several months I spent the last couple of weeks just cleaning, organizing, puttering and preparing for upcoming events.
As part of that enterprise I spent last Thursday handplaning a pile of resawn mahogany and cherry panels for student workpieces during this week’s Introduction to Historic Finishing workshop in Earlysville VA. I woke Friday morning with my right shoulder and left tricep barking at me, letting me know I was out of shape for hand tool work. That, and the blisters on my hands.
Not exotic, but still an exhilarating day. Plus a pile of tinder for this coming winter’s wood stove fires.
As I move forward assembling my tool kit for the upcoming 18th Century Trades Fair at my friend Tim’s place down in center county, I am beginning to pack out my vintage tool chest, acquired many years ago for almost nothing at one of Martin Donnelly’s summer warehouse-clearing shindigs up in central New York. The place to start was the drawer unit sliding till. Here goes.
Drawer #1 (sorry for the photography) contains several oilstones (waterstones and diamond stones need not apply for this kit) and a shop knife.
NB – the organization of the drawers remains in-process until, well, probably until I take my last breath.
Drawer #2 is all about layout tools, including small scales, dividers, mortise gauge and panel gauge parts, etc.
Drawer #3 is a mix, a small wooden spokeshave, another folding scale (clearly should be in drawer #2) a couple hook knives, a small hammer and a scraper burnisher.
Drawer #4 is the home for my chisels, including the pile of mortising chisels I made from derelict plow plane irons, some ancient bench chisels, and a couple homemade dovetail chisels.
Drawer #5 includes the set of brass Roubo-ish squares I made while preparing for that workshop years ago, along with a scraper in an envelope.
Drawer #6 is all about hole-making, including gimlets, spoon bits, tapers, some ancient twist bits, etc.
Drawer #7 has some small planes and a travisher.
There’s still an occasional and cranny, probably for a small screwdriver or two.
My latest conversation with long-time fried Brian Wilson is now available on this Now For Something Completely Different podcast, a labor of love for him to stay occupied in his retirement. After 55 years of broadcasting he can’t kick the habit.
These sessions could be titled “Don Uncensored” because I talk frankly about a variety of forbidden subjects (there is never any foul language, that only happens inside my head when I make a mistake at the bench).
As always, find it for yourself and avoid it if strident observations offend you.
I’ve laid the bench over to drill the holdfast holes in the apron.
As I prepare for the upcoming Historic Trades event over Labor Day weekend I am bringing to completion this latest of my Nicholson benches, originally fabricated for use in the Build A Gragg Chair workshop two summers ago. Well, something like “completion.” Given the utilities needed for that exercise the benches were never “finished,” all they needed were to be solid worktables able to hold Moxon and Zyliss vises.
With a drill jig I easily bored as many holes as I wanted across the front and in the top.
I went back and forth on this; do I add a nice leg vise? How about twin screw face vise, a/k/a Moxon.
In the end I decided to follow the muse of Mike Siemsen, whose brilliant video is a “must watch.”
I might go back and add a big screw leg vise, mostly for the experience of making the threaded screw, but for now I’m going to use this as a bare-bones bench. If I have time before the event I will tooth the work surfaces,
In my collection of 3,000+ vinyl albums is the Pink Floyd double live album Ummagumma, with the memorable photograph of their traveling equipment artistically arranged on a landing strip.
It is reminiscent of my own preparations for my upcoming Introduction to Historic Woodfinishing next week in Earlysville VA. As I’ve said previously, I found out long ago that the only way I could make the workshop complete and beneficial for all the attendees was to provide absolutely everything they need, in terms of workpieces, tools, and supplies. And that adds up to quite a pile of materials.
At this point I’m about 2/3 of the way there. All I know is that by the time I pull out of here next Wednesday the bed of my truck will be full.
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