Last week I finished the photography for my next article in Popular Woodworking, about “The Butterfly” an innovative sawhorse-type accessory I invented for the workshop or even around the house. I think it will be in the June issue, but don’t hold me to that.
Thus far I have worked with Glen Huey at PW, but he is moving (organizationally) over to American Woodworker. I will miss working with Glen, but the way I look at it his arrival over at AW simply provides me another outlet for woodworking verbiage. I’ve already started pitching article ideas to him, including one about the Ultimate Portable Workbench I invented, and would like to build another one for the article. We’ll see if he bites on it. If not I will chronicle it here.
While prepping for my upcoming visit to the Kansas City Woodworking Guild to teach a class based on Roubo’s Plate 286 I was casting about for my inventory of toothing planes. I can find three of them, but the other half-dozen are MIA. If you happen to know where I put them, please let me know.
In lieu of finding my remaining stash of planes I revived an old homemade tool idea from the mists of the distant past. A word of caution: this will take almost five full minutes to make it with a cost of zero, so don’t say didn’t warn you. You will need 1) a block of scrap wood, 2) a hacksaw blade, and 3) a pair of metal shears.
Step 1 – Find a block of scrap wood. Cut it to about 6 inches long.
Step 2 – Find a hacksaw blade, and cut off a piece equal to the width of the block.
Step 3 – at abut the center of the block, on the side of the block mark the depth of the blade body to the base of the teeth.
Step 4 – Using a saw (in my case I used my band saw) cut a kerf to the depth you marked in Step 3.
Step 5 – Ram it home. if necessary add a small shim of paper to the kerf to make sure the blade fits tightly. Adjust the blade so that the teeth tips are exposed about 1/16″.
You now have an inelegant but functional toothing plane, a necessary tool for dealing with sawn veneer marquetry.
Step 6 – I will cover this in Part 2.
The recent convergence of editing the section of Roubo attendant to Plate 18 combined with assembling additional doors for the book cabinets of the library made me reflect on the nature of the humble pipe clamp, particularly in the ability to make pipe clamps any length necessary for the particular task at hand.
As part o the descriptive text for Plate 18 Roubo waxes enthusiastically about both bar clamps and the devices he calls “clamp extenders” to allow any particular clamp to have its capacity increased.
Here is the device Roubo illustrated for this purpose.
Such a concept is not unknown to modern woodworkers especially in the use or even the fabrication of bar clamps with wooden bars, which could be made to nearly any length.
This brings me to the pipe clamp. Like almost every woodworker and handyman in the Western world I have pipe clamps, even several of them. Since my strategy for clamp acquisition revolves around the number “4” (the number of clamps needed for a pair in both x and y axes) I have in my collection of clamps 16 of the pipe variety. For interchangeability all of my clamps are for ½” n.p.t pipes, common enough from the local hardware store.
The down side is that for longer applications, ever longer pipes are needed. And, have you priced threaded pipe lately? Holy cow.
Being a cheapskate who really enjoys finding solutions to problems, while visiting my favorite hardware store and balking at the prospect of spending $50 for four 5-foot sections of threaded black pipe, I instead spent some time browsing the aisles of the hardware store, one of my all-time favorite activities. (every year I spend literally dozens of seconds shopping for clothes, but I can spend practically an entire day examining products at a good hardware store).
There in the shelf in the plumbing section was the 79-cent solution to the problem – a double female-thread pipe coupling. I grabbed a handful and headed home. Sure enough, they filled the bill. Perfectly. For less than a buck I could take two pieces of pipe, one 24″ and the other 36″, with a 5-foot clamp as the result.
As an additional enhancement for the new, longer vise configuration, I grabbed a scrap of pipe insulation and cut rings to place on the pipe and provide protection to the wood surface from the abrasions of the coupling fitting.
I’d like to think that had they been widely available at the time, we would see elegant engravings of pipe clamps in L’Art du Menuisier.
Several months ago when Chris Schwarz blogged about the closing of Midwest Woodworking , a local institution for more than a century, I immediately contacted him about the possibility of obtaining a slab of mahogany so that I could build the Studley-style workbench that I am pretty much morally obliged to make, especially given my acquisition over the summer of a workbench with a pair of wheel-vises (more about that in the coming days).
Much to my delight he was able to obtain such a slab o’ wood, albeit in a 14+-foot length that we have split with each one getting a 7+-foot long by 4″ x almost 24″ wide hunk of lumber. Of course, since the time of placing my order those many months ago I have learned through careful examination that Studley did not build his bench from a slab, but rather through stacked laminations with exquisite Cuban mahogany faces.
Since I am metaphysically obliged to follow his footsteps, I now have a massive hunk of wood without a defined destination.
So, I have this massive slab, and some vintage 6″x6″ black walnut, I’ve been thinking about another Roubo bench, using sipo (the mahogany analog) for the top,and black walnut for the legs and stretchers, with an ebonized crozet and planing stop, and a couple of Peter Ross holdfasts. It would be the only one like it in the neighborhood…
Hot animal hide glue is my standard adhesive in the shop mostly because it is what I used most often in my furniture restoration projects over the past forty years. I find that I use it even much of the time when I am making jigs or other non-conservation projects around the shop.
I used to find it a nuisance at these times, mostly because I didn’t want to be bothered with another brush, or wait until the pot heated up, or whatever excuse I came up with. I have come up with a routine that allows me to effortlessly employ hot hide glue for almost anything. The secrets are a ketchup bottle, a microwave set on “Defrost,” and a potpourri crock finally being used for something useful instead of spewing stink into the air.
I generally use 192 gram strength glue around the shop, and here is how I prepare and use it.
Taking my hardware-store ketchup dispenser I fill it up about 2/3 with cold water. (Cold water makes the glue granules hydrate more quickly.)
Then I add dry glue granules until the dispenser is full to the top with water, and let it sit for a while. Depending on the water temperature and my needs, this can take anywhere from an hour to overnight.
Once it is swelled it looks like this, and I either pop it in the microwave for 2-3 minutes at the Defrost setting if I am in a hurry, or into the potpourri crock if I am not. While in use I simply keep it sitting in the little crock.
The beauty of the ketchup dispenser is it makes using hot hide glue as easy as using white glue or cold liquid glue. Sometimes if I am concerned about the glue gelling too fast I will toss in a pinch or two of canning salt to suppress the gelling, but most of the time for routine shop stuff I just use it the way it is. Otherwise the mass of the molten glue in the dispenser allows me to keep using it for several minutes even after removing it from the heat source, unless the shop is really cold.
One of the things I especially like about this gluing method is it makes creating parquetry panels so much easier since I can just dab the back of the lozenge with a bit of glue before setting it down on the kraft paper backing. No fuss, but especially no muss.
There is certainly no reason I can think of to prevent you from using an empty white glue bottle for the same purpose, but be careful to keep the nozzle clean or the whole thing comes to a screeching halt.
I’ll write about that more some time soon.
Since a lot of my work involves restoring and conserving historic wooden artifacts, I am often faced with odd clamping situations. One tool I find invaluable in these pursuits is the humble clothespin. Inexpensive, fairly light clamping force, and almost infinite reconfiguring possibilities, I keep scores of these on hand in the shop.
When I open a new pack of clothespins, and I recommend getting the large higher quality ones from the hardware store rather than cheesy ones from WalMart or similar, the first thing I do is to cut bevels on the ends, removing the useless and interfering tips. A quick set-up on the band saw accomplishes this in just a couple minutes. These trimmed clothes pins are now part of the clamping stock.
When the task requires it, I shape the remaining clothespin tips to whatever form I need. At about 10-cents apiece I do not fuss about their consumption or destruction.
One enterprise I have been following is this fellow’s project to manufacture high-performance clothes pins. I can’t wait to see them when they become reality. I’m ordering two sets.
Since returning from my last trip to WIA and the Studley photoshoot I have been spending a lot of time this week completing the photography for an upcoming Popular Woodworking article , in the February issue I think. The article describes my design and construction for the bolt-to-the-front-of-the-bench wheel-handle tail vise I added to my workbench, with enough information so that you can make your own for whatever needs you might have. If you have a table saw and drill press and can order materials on-line, it is a piece of cake.
I needed to make this vise because my existing workbench for the past 30 years could not accommodate a Benchcrafted vise, and I wrote the article because I am surely not the only person who’s bench has the same or similar limiting characteristics.
I’ll be bringing it to next Saturday’s SAPFM Virginia Chapter meeting in Winchester VA for the show-and-tell session before main speaker George Walker‘s presentation.
The crew at PopWood are all woodworkers and a real pleasure to work with. If you have any ideas for an article, just drop a line to Megan, Glen (with whom I am working on this one), Bob, or Chuck. They genuinely enjoy helping you make the idea into an article. Really, let them know
Stay tuned.
Among the multitude of things that I am and things that I am not, two come clearly to mind in this initial recap of my recent foray into Cincinnati/Covington for Woodworking in America.
One thing I am not is a calligrapher, by that I mean someone whose handwriting is legible to anyone but me. Mine may be to penmanship what Jackson “Jack the Dripper” Pollack is to real painting. On the flip side of that truth is the added reality that I am someone who actually crafts a lot of my words with pen and pencil on a piece of paper. I would be pleased if my handwriting were elegant, but not enough to actually practice and accomplish it.
At WIA since I was going to be signing something approaching a literal ton of To Make As Perfectly As Possible books I wanted to make sure I was using a permanent archival pen for the occasion. A quick ask-about revealed the presence of a stationary and pen store called Appointments just over the river in Cincinnati, and I headed across the Ohio River on the Robeling bridge, itself a delightful stroll on a sunny afternoon.
It was at Appointments that I met Douglas Kennedy, a tool geek of the first order. His tools are writing implements. To say that he was interested in writing tools would be like saying I am interested in shellac. While his store did not have the specific tool I was seeking – that was later found at an art and drafting supply store nearby – I nevertheless spent a half hour with Mr. Kennedy looking at and test driving a number of truly wondrous writing tools. It turned out that he had a lot of tools I wanted, and did in fact leave with a couple including a Cross Tech3+ “triple,” a pen body that includes a black stylus for writing, a red stylus for editing, and a 0.5 mm mechanical pencil. In fact, recognizing that I was looking for excellent tools rather than expensive tools he catered to my interests completely. As we parted company I could only think “here was a craftsman fully engaged in the use of fine tools.”
If you are in the Cincinnati area and need counsel on fine writing tools, Douglas Kennedy is the man to see.
As I left Appointments on my way to the art store he told me about, I was walking along the sidewalk and came to the window behind which Gus Miller was crafting hats at the Batsakes Hats shop at Sixth and Main. I was hooked.
You see, a second thing I am not is a fashionista. On an annual basis I spend literally dozens of seconds purchasing attire, mostly at the local thrift store or on line – I know my body measurements, why should I have to try anything on? – but what I am is a hat guy. The vision of Gus Miller crafting hats and the stacks of inventory in the background compelled me to round the corner and go in. Sure enough, Mr. Miller and his lovely wife had just what I needed, even though I didn’t even know I needed it two minutes before I saw him.
While in the store they showed me not only their inventory but the tools he uses with consummate skill. Another tool geek encountered, but again with a wholely disparate set of tools from my perspective, as he crafts, shapes, and modifies hats for his loyal customer, including this new loyal customer. (Yes, I know that the dictionary says the word is “wholly” but dictionaries are idiotic some times and I refuse to stop using the more rational “wholely” and some day it will lead to a death match conflict with an editor) I walked out the door with a really cool-looking Borsalino “flat” that looks like it was made with my head in mind. It is already my everyday hat. Given Lost Art Press’ proximity to Batsakes the odds are near 100% I will be visiting again.
That evening was the gathering of Roubo-istas at the book release party for To Make As Perfectly As Possible as scores of us crammed into an artisan’s pizza place Chris Schwarz knew about.
The fellowship there was almost overwhelmingly delightful as both Deluxe and Standard Editions were distributed to loyal and patient acquisitors, tool geeks all. I was much humbled by the enthusiastic support for our projects, but none more so than when folks like CraigF and TimH took the trouble to drive for hours to attend and congratulate us, even though they would not be attending the WIA conference.
My appreciation for that encouragement cannot be fully articulated in words, even with a really nice pen while wearing a cool hat.
I would not say that I have a vise, um, fetish. I will admit that I have long been fascinated with vises, and own what some folks – for example a bride of 32 years, just thinking hypothetically here — would think is an over-adequate inventory of them. The seeds of her view might have been planted when we were first married and students at the University of Delaware, and I learned about Carpenter Machinery in downtown Philly having a huge stock of Emmert vises salvaged from the recently-closed pattern shop of the Philadelphia Navy Yard foundry. We were poor as church mice, but for one of only two times while in college I took money out of savings and headed to Carpenter’s. I still remember the look on her face when I climbed into a four-foot-cube industrial storage cage and came out with two almost-100-lb chunks of iron to put into the car trunk.
They were complete Emmert K-1s. I built a bench around one, a bench I use daily ever since. The second one remains in the bullpen, awaiting its call to duty some time this coming winter.
In the years since I obtained and even built a number of vises, some based on specific project needs, some on testing out a “what if” idea, some simply whimsical. Machinist vises. Machinist vises with integral anvils. Twin screw face vises (on the back side of my Emmert-bearing workbench, and pretty much a standard feature on many of the workbenches I have built since).
Shop-built end vises (to be featured in a Popular Woodworking article next spring).
Rotating/tilting engraving tables/vises built with a duckpin bowling ball and two toilet flanges. Zyliss vises, of which I have four and find indispensable. Roubo leg vises. Saw sharpening vises.
The tale goes on.
Then three years ago, within days of each other, I had “in the flesh” introductions to both the H.O. Studley workbench with its nickel-plated piano-makers vises and the products of bench vise innovators Jameel and Father John Abraham. In the aftermath of those episodes what had been an abiding curiosity became something much more energized and focused.
Over the next year or so I will be combining the best features of all the piano-makers’ wheel-handle vises I have been able to examine thus far into a design and set of foundry patterns for making the ultimate vise of the form. Along the way I will let you peek over my shoulder as I travel down this path, hopefully one of fulfillment and not of merely enabling a compulsive addiction. In the end my goal is to have yet another new bench, this one an offspring from the splicng of toolism genes from Andre-Jacob Roubo and Henry O. Studley.
Now that will be something to see.
I hope there are no recessive gene issues…
During my recent foray into Georgia for the French Oak Roubo Project I carried a special gift for Jameel Abraham. In great part due to his work with making ouds, a Middle Eastern stringed instrument vaguely like a lute, he has developed a passion for intricate tiny mosaic patterns. In the 19th century a similar art form know as sadeli grew in eastern Asia Minor and in the Anglo-Indian territories of the raj.
I have several pieces of sadeli, including an amazing lap desk of mosaic parquetry-and-ivory applied to a base of yellow sandalwood. I also had a beautiful little calling-card box of sadeli and ivory (the size appropriate for holding business cards), which I thought should convey to him for inspiration in his work. Not that he needs any; Jameel is perhaps the most inspired and inspiring artist I know.
Anyhow, Jameel being Jameel, he was constitutionally unable to accept a gift without giving one in return, and this is what he bestowed on me – a hand made 24” Roubo styled square. It is an extraordinary addition to my tool kit, one that has already been effortlessly integrated in to my work. It is also a terrific companion to a simpler Cuban mahogany square I bought for next to nothing many years ago simply because it had a broken blade. You can still see the remnant of the damage of the blade just before it enters the beam. Fortunately the pieces fit together perfectly and I was able to reclaim it from the burn pile with almost no effort or time.
Both squares have magnificent, understated detailing, and are treasures in my tool set.
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