The latest installment of the forty-year-long conversation with my friend “retired” broadcaster Brian Wilson (who cannot shake the habit), was posted at his Brian Wilson Writes Substack. If you enjoy provocative strident discussions about forbidden topics, give it a listen. If you do not, don’t.
The Abraham boys and their posse are at it again and Handworks 2026 is barreling down the pike. It will be Friday and Saturday of Labor Day weekend, in the lovely village of Amana, Iowa. I’ll be there again close to dead center of the Festhalle, hawking my wares such as they are. Polissoirs, beeswax and shellac wax, videos, and original c. 1765 Roubo prints, etc.
The Festhalle from Handworks 2013
It’s the most amazing tool festival of hand woodworking you will even encounter with visitors and makers from around the globe if the tradition holds.
I’m already ramping up my truckload of stuff to take with me, at the moment creating a pile on and under a workbench I will be taking and making wax processing part of almost every day from now on.
This just might be my last long road trip other than family priorities. We just don’t have the oomph for drives like that anymore.
I love tales like this. I knew of an instance in some southern swamp where they discovered an ancient sunken cypress trunk that was so valuable the salvage company had around-the-clock guards protecting it until they could find just the right buyer who had just the right project. I vaguely recall it went to a developer who was going to use it in all the public spaces is a huge skyscraper somewhere. I think the dimensions of trunk were 48+” diameter at the top and 180-plus feet long. That’s a mighty big tree.
I’d heard the asking price was $7 million.
Many years ago back in Maryland we had a micro-burst that uprooted a number for mature tulip poplar trees, the largest of which measured 24″ in diameter at the first branch, which was at the 60-foot mark. I was unable to find a sawyer willing to deal with it, so given the cycle of life it has now gone back to the earth.
That’s right, sometimes cleanup is the exact opposite Christmas. Usually in the aftermath of a deep cleaning and reorganizing of the barn I find that I suddenly cannot find something I need. In the “Before” I knew exactly where that thing was even if the overall spatial composition was more similar to a maelstrom. But at least I knew where item X, Y, or Z was.
Yesterday I needed to sew something up but could not find nor remember where I put the stinking sewing kit.
Grrr.
Samtsirhc indeed.
Now that I am in my approximately 4,000th day of organizing, reorganizing, cleaning and tidying the barn I am qualified to declare that Cleaning is Christmas. Unlike my friends MikeM, Ripplin’ John and MartinO I am not by temperament nor habit fastidiously organized in my physical surrounding. This means that combined with my forgetfulness about the details of my surroundings, organizing and cleaning reveals “new” contents of the barn that in truth I had forgotten either 1) that I even had them, or 2) where I put them, sometimes in a “special place.”
My current paroxysm of tidying the joint is just such a reality. Sometimes the revelations are mundane, such as, “Oh, that’s where I put my favorite utility knife.” Other “discoveries” are more meaningful. Just a few days ago at the Plane Wellness shindig I was commenting to someone there that I was running low on the shellac wax I had ordered several years ago directly from the factory in India. I was lamenting(?) the fact that I might need to send another big pile of money there to restock if I was going to continue using and selling shellac wax for more than another few months.
So, there in the corner tucked behind one of my workbenches were two full cases of shellac wax. Enough for two or three years of consumption. Suddenly that was one less thing I needed to worry about. That alone made it a good day. The cases were so embedded in the space (I had to actually cut the boxes apart just to extricate the contents) that I clearly placed them there before I built a storage cabinet and placed the workbench in its current location and then put stuff on top of them.
Then, as I was taking inventory of my polissoirs and packaged waxes underneath the workbench I use for that purpose, I found two full cases of the 190 proof grain alcohol I use for mixing spirit varnishes.
At this point all I have to do is persuade myself that cleaning is something I need to habituate myself toward. Yeah, good luck with that.
Now I just have to concern myself with the fact that my polissoir maker is struggling with some health problems that are disrupting his broom-making output. Yikes.
During our recent visit to flyover country to celebrate Ripplin’ John’s MFA exhibit I was able to spend most of a day with him in the shop. John’s fascination with undulation has progressed well beyond ripple molding machines into the realm of Rose Engine lathes, of which he has at least two.
This is a gargantuan vintage machine,
which has been augmented with this modern unit made by Davil Lindell, if I remember correctly.
He let me noodle on the Lindell for a few hours, including the cutting of this pattern on the end of a small box.
What a joy it is to spend time with the people you admire doing stuff that is just pure, unadulterated fun.
My circle of friends is mostly populated with men who inspire me due to their knowledge, skills, talents, temperaments and character. No person better embodies this than my long-time friend Ripplin’ John (you can meet him at my booth at Handworks). Engineer, craftsman, and theologian, his company is a treasured enrichment to my life.
Mrs. Barn and I recently traveled to attend his exhibit as he received his Sculpture MFA safely into his eighth decade of life! He is indominable rather than monomaniacal, a distinction worthy of note. The exhibit attendees were treated to an impressive compilation of work and creativity; his thesis dealt with the question “What Is Art?”
The attendees in rapt attention as John elucidates the purposes of his artworks.
Congratulations, John, and thanks for being my friend and fellow Christian soldier.
Here are some pics from the exhibit.
One of the many beautiful objects crafted by John’s hands and tools
One of a series of miniature turned boxes John created with his Rose Engine Lathe, a creative technology completely unknown to most of those in attendance,
The assignment here was to create a sculptural artwork from a book. John excavated and epoxy-laminated a stack of pages, then turned the resulting block on his lathe.
John was exploring the realm of formed, enameled metal medallions.
One of the many facets of John’s program was to teach a class. This is the student workshop where he instructed the kids in basic metalwork. From what I could see they related wonderfully to this graduate student the same age and their great-grandparents.
No doubt, the most bizarre moment of the visit to the college campus was spotting this dispensary in the men’s restroom. Our culture is doomed.
During my ongoing/never-ending efforts to impose order in the barn I came across some pieces of very large bamboo (~5″). These were no doubt the remaining fragments of a pickup load I harvested thirty years ago from the giant bamboo forest of Clemson University when I was there for a conference. If I could ever connect with someone there again, I would return to get more.
These pieces caused me to reflect on what I could do with them, and once again Maki Fushimi was a source of inspiration.
Stay tuned.
About 35 years ago as our girls were getting tall enough to use the bathroom sink and help Mama in the kitchen we used large, unwieldy folding stools for them to accomplish the tasks. I decided to use some scrap birch plywood and made a foot-high two-step stool for each of them, Older Daughter, Younger Daughter, and Mrs. Barn. They were simple and sturdy, painted with some leftovers from unknown projects; black, red, baby blue. They were stout enough that all three of them are still in service today after three decades of service.
A couple years ago I made a similar one for L’il T, painted in what were at the time his favorite colors with a little pizzazz.
Last week I finished the stool for his little brother, ‘Dozer. (L’il T is long and lean, ‘Dozer is not, and not. A nose tackle in the making.) We weren’t sure what his favorite colors were, are, or will be so I left it to my own discretion.
In a year I’ll be making one for grandson #3, and the same for grandson #4 the year after. These are so simple that they are not really even “woodworking,” but they are treasures that will likely last several lifetimes.
Building precious memories and robust traditions, one stepstool at a time.
One of Mrs. Barn’s favorite things is the annual visit from “Eddie the Spoon Guy” at the craft market during our local celebration of all things pertaining to maple syrup. She stocks up on a multitude of wooden spoons, spatulas and similar items to use and to give as gifts throughout the year. This year Eddie had some teensy spoons that she thought would be perfect as gifts for each of the grandsons.
Once she had them home she asked, “Wouldn’t it be nice to have their names carved into the handles?” What could I say, other than, “Of course.”
Sorry, just can’t seem to get this image to load horizontally.
Givin the diminutive size of the workpieces my first task was to find a good work holding system, something that would hold these itty bitty pieces solidly yet allow me to have access to the surfaces to be worked. Fortunately, I have a jeweler’s bench top rotating vise with movable jaws, allowing a close fit for the round a tapered handles. To maximize the grip and eliminate the risk of damage I used abrasive pads to cushion the jaws. That solution worked perfectly, padding the wood yet gabbing the spoons hard and steady.
Then the question was, “What do I use for the incising?” Using a chip carving knife was not within my ken as the pieces were like carving names on a round pencil. In other words, beyond my confident skill set. I thought about using one of my engraving burins or a tiny chasing tool, but practice with them was not encouraging. Looking through my box of carving tools I came across a 1mm veiner from a project I cannot even remember now. That was just the ticket.
The end result was great. I won’t show that as I strive to protect my loved ones from the netbots.
© 2024 Don Williams
Recent Comments