Quoting the title of my least favorite song from probably my most favorite current band, I recently had a spectacular failure on something entirely mundane in the shop.
The locus of the action was my Kindle. I love having a Kindle, the ability to download and have a multitude of audio and textual books in-hand on a wisp of a tool is intoxicating. Plus, I can make the font size as large as I want, no small feature for someone with my eyesight. However, the Kindle is not a particularly robust tool and I fractured the screen soon after getting it. Nevertheless I continued using it without incident for a year until the design flaw in the re-charging port caused the unit to fail entirely and I replaced it. Mrs. Barn is on her second Kindle for exactly the same reason.
When my new Kindle arrived it was instantly apparent that the geniuses at Amazon recognized the re-charging port problem and upgraded the hardware considerably. Still, that would not really help me if I abused the unit physically to the point of breaking it. So, I decided to make a lightweight rigid case to house it. I had looked at a number of manufactured cases and even bought one but remained unsatisfied, hence my desire to make my own. I might have used some 5-ply 1/8″ aircraft plywood but unfortunately my inventory of this esoteric and very expensive material was inadequate for the project.
Instead I tried making my own, an undertaking I had engaged in numerous times. Over the years I have accumulated a sizeable pile of veneer sheets and this was a perfect time to consume a tiny bit of it.
Cutting several pieces from the long veneer sheets, I glued up some 5- and 7-ply panels using some PVA adhesive.
I stacked the wet panels on top of each other with a sheet of food wrap between them, as I done done many times before. Since I do not have a veneer press I added flat cauls and a couple hundred pounds of firebricks on top and let it sit overnight.
What I found the net morning on disassembling the set-up was not what I wanted, to say the very least. One of the plywood panels’ faces was perfectly flat, but the other was puckered beyond repair, or at least beyond any repair I wanted to spend my time on. Besides, I have a lot more veneer to play with.
Our adventure continues, notwithstanding some technical glitches on my end (a self-flattering version of “I forgot how to do this!”) Actually the new WordPress template is a pain in the kiester, but fortunately Webmeister Tim managed to restore the previous version. That is the best explanation I have for why it took months to get the next one posted. I was simply too stoopid/ignorant/technophobic/compewderily iliterate to figure out how to do it in the “new and improved” platform template, and also why my blogging had declined. It was just too miserable trying to figure it out. At this point I have almost negative interest in learning new skills, I’m just trying to keep my existing skills intact.
Crossing my fingers hard. It worked for me in the “preview” and I am hoping it works for you.
In this episode I cover the process of matching the veneer being used for the repair to the veneer that remains adjacent to the loss.
PS – Spring has sprung so video production resumes next week!
If your conscience is pricked feel free to click on the “Donate” button, any proceeds from which will go toward enhancing the rapidity of new video production. Future videos will also be available for purchase one section at a time (perhaps $0.99 – $1.99 per segment depending on the video) or $15(?) for the complete product. I am still noodling that and working out the logistics with Webmaster Tim. If this interests a large enough audience I hope to produce three or four 2-hour-ish videos per year. If not, maybe one or two at the most, one being more likely. In which case it will take me almost twenty years to get through the list I have already.
Our series continues with an episode focusing on the tools needed and the set-up for making visually harmonious veneer repairs to losses.
If your conscience is pricked feel free to click on the “Donate” button, any proceeds from which will go toward enhancing the rapidity of new video production.
Future videos will also be available for purchase one section at a time (perhaps $0.99 – $1.99 per segment depending on the video) or $15(?) for the complete product. I am still noodling that and working out the logistics with Webmaster Tim. If this interests a large enough audience I hope to produce three or four 2-hour-ish videos per year. If not, maybe one or two at the most, one being more likely. In which case it will take me almost twenty years to get through the list I have already.
You can find the background on this initial offering by Barn Attic Productions/Seed and Fruit Media here. I am working on getting an archive for all these videos on the site. Be patient with me, I am of an age and disposition that I still expect flames to shoot out of the compewder if I hit the wrong key.
In this episode of my recitation and demonstration of the techniques I use to undertake sensitive veneer repairs — sensitive to the artifacts, not your feelings — such that the compensation (that’s museum-ese for “repair”) is visual harmonious while leaving the maximum of the artifact fabric intact, I demonstrate my low-intensity method for cutting my own veneers on a bench-top bandsaw. I use this method frequently for a variety of applications, whether I need that one special piece of figured veneer for a repair or if I am cranking out veneer strips for doing French parquetry.
If your conscience is pricked by viewing this for no cost feel free to click on the “Donate” button, any proceeds from which will go toward enhancing the rapidity of producing new videos. For those of you who have already shown that generous spirit, I am deeply appreciative.
You can find the background on this initial offering by Barn Attic Productions/Seed and Fruit Media here along with the first episode.
In this episode of my recitation and demonstration of the techniques I use to undertake sensitive veneer repairs — sensitive to the artifacts, not your feelings — such that the compensation (that’s museum-ese for “repair”) is visual harmonious while leaving the maximum of the artifact fabric intact, I demonstrate and discuss the importance of three things: grain, grain, and grain.
If your conscience is pricked by viewing this for no cost feel free to click on the “Donate” button, any proceeds from which will go toward enhancing the rapidity of producing new videos. For those of you who have already shown that generous spirit, I am deeply appreciative.
The first product being offered the Barn on White Run video empire, which I introduced earlier, is an almost two hour tutorial on museum-quality veneer repair (in the museum world we use the term “damage compensation” for what you might call “repair”) using the techniques I learned and developed over the past four decades. The video en toto is divided into thirteen sections, and one will be uploaded every week if all goes well.
Since this is our initial effort, and was itself an intense learning experience, I have decide to make this complete video available for free. This is not a mere amusement or hobby, I am hiring a gifted professional (Chris Swecker) to produce them, and as good as I am at schmoozing he insists on getting paid for his work! Harrumph. I am determined that together we will produce the best professional, broadcast quality videos we can out here in the wilds of the Virginia mountains. The pace of their development is directly tied to the intersection of three things; my schedule, Chris’ schedule, and the barn’s bank account.
If your conscience is pricked feel free to click on the “Donate” button, any proceeds from which will go toward enhancing the rapidity of new video production.
Future videos will also be available for purchase one section at a time (perhaps $0.99 – $1.99 per segment depending on the video) or $15(?) for the complete product. I am still noodling that and working out the logistics with Webmaster Tim. If this interests a large enough audience I hope to produce three or four 2-hour-ish videos per year. If not, maybe one or two at the most, one being more likely. In which case it will take me almost twenty years to get through the list I have already.
By the third and final day everyone was charging ahead, in the groove, and making great progress on the second exercise, a three-part composition of tordonshell, pewter sheet, and brass sheet.
Again, the critical thing given the assembly of our packets was to begin sawing in the center of the design and working you way out systematically. As things progressed it was very exciting to see the composition(s) taking shape.
Honestly there is not a lot to say verbally, so I’ll just let the pictures do the talking.
Day 2 was a time to really get down to business with sawing the first exercise, a two-part tarsia a incastro composition with each person doing a decorative rendition of their own initial (in reverse).
Soon everyone was adopting their preferred sawing posture.
Unfortunately we got Gwen’s initial relationship to her sawing station wrong, and before too long an old neck injury reared its ugly head. Even after adjusting her posture and sawing height, the damage was already done, limiting her experience considerably.
Before long the compositions of the mirror representations for their initial were taking shape.
By the end of the day we were all moving on to our second exercises, a three-part composition requiring three layers of media, pewter, brass, and tordonshell, and two supporting bookends of 1/8″ plywood.
Drilling a tiny hole near the center of the pattern for feeding the saw blade through, And we were off and running with the new project.
In great part due to the rapidly forming manuscript for To Make As Perfectly As Possible – Roubo On Marquetry and the number of my essays describing the seemingly arcane practices of 18th Parisian workshops, in 2011 I built a slightly diminutive (2/3 scale) version of Roubo’s sawing bench as illustrated in Plate 278, Figures 10 and 11. The dimensions for my version were determined by the space in my basement workshop; I now wish I had made it full sized. Doing so would have doubled the mass of the bench, and in this instance mass is really the only important thing. The construction was real meatball woodworking, I simply fit and fastened together 4×6 tulip poplar stock then drilled holes for the vise screws all the way through the top horizontally. For the female threads I simply used the wooden vise nuts that came with the threaded screws.
This workbench has only one purpose and function, to hold a work piece firmly while it is being resawn. What we found immediately in battle was that the bench vise did a fine job of holding the work piece in its jaws tightly. Unfortunately the bench was simply too light to perform well in action as the whole thing danced around the shop with every saw stroke. The only way we could get it to work was placing anti-skid pads underneath each leg and then loading it up with as much weight as was handy. Currently this sawing bench is the storage home for several hundred pounds of fire bricks I keep handy.
Roubo alludes to this problem himself, extolling the virtues of massive weights being stored on or under the bench to hold it steady, or even more likely bolting the entire unit to floor. In my old basement shop this made no sense on the concrete floor in a tiny space, it makes more sense now that I have wooden floors and lots of them.
Most recently I used the saw bench during my demo at Working Wood in the 18th Century at Colonial Williamsburg, employing an attendee as my stabilizing weight. In preparation for that demo, and in response to my having cannibalized the unit to use the original vise screws on other benches, I made new screws and screw nuts with my Bealle threading unit.
I cannot say I have used this bench enough to become facile at resawing veneer, the best I can do is about eight leaves per inch. Only time will tell if I ever get to the point where I can saw a dozen leaves to the inch like the old timers, but if I do this bench or one like it will be part of the equation.
The day began with the unveiling of the parquetry backgrounds glued up just before stopping yesterday. A bit of water on a sponge allowed the paper backing to be removed easily and quickly. The hot hide glue had congealed nicely but was still pretty green so we placed them in front of a fan to help dry faster.
Then it was on to trimming edges, laying out the knotwork inlay and excavating the channels for the banding.
Much of the incising as done with utility knives, but Brint in particular took a liking to my shoulder knives. He gave both of them a long test drive and had definite preferences for them. So much so that he encouraged me to have a workshop next summer to allow the participants to make one (or two). We will get together over the winter to work out any bugs for that workshop.
Meanwhile I was noodling around and found a donkey-dumb simple way to lay out the knotwork pattern with pieces of the banding itself as the measuring devices. Palm meet forehead.
For Brint and John, once the excavations were far enough along it was time to create the template block for the individual pieces of the composition.
Following the guide of Roubo they took blocks of walnut and created right-angle and 45-degree channels for the banding to be sawn and planed, then placed pieces of the banding as stop blocks in the channels. This allows for limitless production of identical elements and very fast work in creating the knotwork pattern.
And knotwork corners became manifest on the boards.
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