What is it about newly milled, neatly stacked pieces of wood that make our hearts go pitter patter?
Is it the challenge? the potential? the thrill of starting a new project? the result of an overly active, obsessive compulsive disorder?
These pretty little packages will be distributed in a handcut dovetails class I'm teaching on Saturday. They consist of an oversized top and bottom, each measuring .375" x 5.5" x 11.125"; two end pieces, measuring .625" x 3.5" x 4.875"; and two side pieces, measuring .625" x 3.5" x 11".
This is a technique class, only 5 hours long, so the students won't be able to complete a box in that amount of time. They'll finish the project at home and can choose to add the lid and bottom with their method of choice.
Tomorrow, I'm taking the day off to build one that can be knocked apart, so they can use it for reference while they're cutting their own dovetails.
I will teach them the same method I learned in a class taught by David Finck, except that he played classical music for us. I'll probably just serenade my students instead.*
*Hearing protection will be provided.