Sunday, April 3, 2011

Making A Level: Part IV

According to Herbert P. Kean's book Restoring Antique Tools, mounting the vial in place can be achieved by filling a bathtub with a few inches of water, floating a board, laying the level on top of the board, and adjusting the vial until it's level.

I tried this with a large tub of water, but the board did not support a block of wood very well. It tended to tip, become soaked with water, and sink.

Fortunately I tried this with a sacrificial block of wood rather than my homemade level.

Instead, I sat one of the nice antique levels I own on top of my table saw and shimmed it with two thin metal rulers until the vial showed that it was level.  I used this surface on which to sit my level.

I considered using spackling to secure the vial in place, but decided to use Plaster of Paris instead. It sets up quickly and it's the same substance that was used in antique levels.

Mix the plaster two parts to one part water, dab water in the wood cavity of the level, and spread the mixture with thin strips of wood.  Through trial and error and a few moments of panic, I found that it's best to let the plaster set up a little bit, then push the vial in place.

You need to consider the "windows" through which the vial will be viewed—there should not be any plaster on these areas of the vial or it will be noticeable and unattractive.

Make sure the vial is sitting a little beneath the top surface of the level. That way, when the brass plate is screwed in place it won't touch the vial. You also need to be sure that the convex curve in the glass is arcing upward and that the vial is positioned in the center of the cavity.

I used thin strips of wood to scrape away excess plaster, then used a moistened Q-tip to clean up smudges.

I pre-finished the wood before I seated the vial. In a few days I'll rub on some paste wax and take some glamour shots of the completed project.

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The previous three blog posts about making this level are 1, 2, and 3.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Paint, Pattern & People: Book Review

by Wendy A. Cooper and Lisa Minardi


Wendy A. Cooper, Senior Curator of Furniture at Winterthur
Lisa Minardi, Assistant Curator of Furniture for the Southeastern Pennsylvania Furniture Project at Winterthur

Ms. Cooper and Ms. Minardi’s newly released book appeals not only to woodworkers, but to anyone who is interested in early American history, culture, and furniture.

They started their project over six years ago with the desire to bring to light little known facts about the culture and creativity of the 18th- and 19th-century inhabitants of southeastern Pennsylvania.

Cooper and Minardi canvassed over 250 private and public collections, attended auctions and visited antique dealers in search of furniture with well documented histories.

Their exhaustive research gives us fascinating insight into the everyday happenings of the inhabitants, and the furniture transports us into the lives of our ancestors.

The first part of the book focuses on the people who immigrated to the area—equal numbers of English- and German- speaking people—and their attraction to a place that was tolerant of their religious beliefs and provided ample natural resources which would to lead to prosperity.  The dense, tall forests, thick with black walnut, cherry, and maple were especially attractive to woodworkers.

Details about the early settlers include occupations, inventories of possessions, costs of goods, countries of origin, and places of worship.

Peppered throughout the text are excerpts from journals which give us a personal look at habits and personalities.

The authors found that similarities in painted, inlaid, and carved decoration and construction were influenced by a variety of factors including region, ethnicity, religious affiliation, personal taste, socioeconomic status, and the skill of the craftsman.

They also managed to debunk several myths—for example, notions about dower chests, most of which weren’t dower chests at all. In reality, the majority were made for young teens of both genders to store their possessions. The quickly built chests accompanied them in their marriages and became part of their new homes.

Another myth they dispelled is that the region was solely populated by Pennsylvania Germans. In fact, Pennsylvania was the most culturally diverse of the 13 colonies.

We learn about the craftsmen through inventories of their tools, inscriptions left on backs of furniture, and items they bartered in exchange for products of their craft. Cabinetmaker Thomas Ogden of West Chester advertised in 1820 that he would “take in exchange beef, pork, fire wood, wheat, rye, corn or any kind of boards, such as he makes use of in his line.”

The authors provide detailed descriptions of the pieces that are showcased in the book including wood species, dimensions, design features, markings, hardware, and close-ups of carving and inlay.  As furniture experts, Cooper and Minardi speak our language, pointing out of all the things we want to know about the furniture including unique features.

Of one piece they write, “The short cabriole legs of the Garrett tall chest are unusual in that they attach to the case with large wooden screws. The legs are dovetailed to a batten that runs front-to-back at either side of the case, and then secured to the underside of the cabinet with two wooden screws on each side. Approximately thirty other tall chests with this construction feature are known.”

They uncovered an incredible number of fascinating things about the people, furniture, regions and craftsmen. For example, in 1772 John Frederick Whitehead studied to be a cabinetmaker in Germany. After seven months as a young apprentice, he wrote, “I was no further advanced in learning the trade than when I began...the chief [thing] I did was breaking of Gimblets, bending of Chysels and Saws, spoiled boards and planes.” Later, he moved to Pennsylvania and became a weaver.

Interspersed among the photos of more than 125 pieces of painted and high end furniture are numerous 18th- and 19th-century paintings of farmland and fertile, rolling hills of Pennsylvania; painted portraits of families and individuals who are highlighted in the text; photos of stone homesteads which are still standing; and archival images from the early 1900s.

In addition, more than 30 pages of end notes provide even more information about the pieces and the people, and an extensive selected bibliography directs us toward further related reading.

What an undertaking Cooper and Minardi embarked upon six years ago. To have compiled such a thorough and comprehensive amount of useful, captivating, educational, and inspiring information is nothing short of astounding.

Their hope is that their work will lay a foundation which other scholars can use for more study about the people and furniture of early southeastern Pennsylvania. What they’ve also produced is a marvelous tribute to the craftsmen who made the pieces.

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A new exhibit—Paint, Pattern & People—opens at the Winterthur Museum on April 2 and will display many of the pieces included in the book. Guess who’s planning to be first in line. ; )

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Photos are courtesy of the Winterthur Museum. Notes about the pieces are as follows (from top to bottom):
1. Wainscot armchair, about 1740
Walnut; holly
2. Desk-and-bookcase, 1725–40
Cherry; chestnut, tulip-poplar, oak, white pine, walnut; holly; brass
3. Desk-and-bookcase, 1770–90
Cherry; tulip-poplar; brass
4. Hanging cupboard, 1800
White pine; paint; glass; iron, brass
5. Chest-over-drawers, 1791
Tulip-poplar; paint; brass, iron
6. Tall chest of drawers, 1786
Maple; tulip-poplar, walnut; brass
7. Kitchen cupboard, 1848
Tulip-poplar, maple; white pine; red lead, vermilion (microanalysis); brass, iron; glass

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Making a Level: Part III

The outside of the level still needs some final shaping and sanding. Despite this, I moved onto the next step because, well, I'm impatient.

Levels require a way to view the vial not only from the top but from the sides.  Wooden levels (at least the antique ones I own) have sloped side holes which necessitate a bit of shaping.

 Two arcs create the slopes—a small arc that is closest to the vial, and a larger arc that terminates on the outside surface of the level.

I used a chisel, shallow gouge, and round file to shape the sloped holes—quick and easy.

I bet if I had planned ahead, I could have drilled the inner arc with a Forstner bit before cutting the blank for the level and the channel for the vial.

But that's way too much forward-thinking for someone who's, well, impatient.

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Parts I and II for making this level are here and here.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Better Late Than Never


I promised my partner and brother that I'd make each of them a meditation bench for Christmas.

My partner's was finished about two weeks after the holiday.  My brother's was finished last weekend—10 weeks late.


Ah well. Meditation involves patience, right?

My brother did not want any carving on his bench, so I decided to add a little pizzaz by making the bevels on the tenons and mortises more pronounced.

I freehanded the chamfers on my partner's bench, but decided to lay out the ones on my brother's because they would be more noticeable if they weren't dead-on perfect.

This is easy to do. Just draw your layout lines* on all four sides of your workpiece to mark the bottom of the chamfers. Then draw four lines on the endgrain to mark the top of the chamfers.

Remove the waste in between the lines by shaving in an upward/slicing motion with your chisel. Stop before you get to the end of one side, then pare from the other direction. This will prevent tearout at the end of the cut.

If you keep your blade inside the pencil lines as you pare away material, the bevel will be consistent on all four sides.

There are now three meditation benches in our house (I haven't mailed my brother's yet—the finish is curing). One is pine, one is cherry, and one is walnut. All three are almost identical and yet all three have a different feel when you sit on them.  I suppose this has everything to do with the wood itself.

Another curious thing is, the longer my partner has used hers, the more comfortable it's become to her. Again, I think this is due to wood's nature.  Our wooden planes mold to our bodies—why not benches?

Wood is adaptable, warm, and.....forgiving. And I'm hoping my brother possesses the same attributes. heh. Merry Christmas, bro. :o)

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*A friend on facebook asked why I used a pencil to lay out the lines rather than a marking gauge. Here's why: The cutting gauge would have left score marks that would only have been removed if I had chiseled beyond the marks. That would have made it more difficult to keep the bevels consistent.  

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Making a Level: Part II

I spent some time this weekend working on the level that I started a couple weeks ago.

This is not a difficult project, but it can take longer than expected if the only shop time you've been getting is somewhere between "none" and "if you blink, you'll miss it."


(I know that all my brothers and sisters in wood can relate.)

I squared up one edge of the wood blank with a handplane.  Referencing off this edge, I marked the layout lines for the mortise that would house the vial. The antique levels I bought came in handy for determining the proper depth and length of the mortise.

I used a drill press to remove the bulk of the waste and squared it up with chisels. Then I used a gouge to round the ends so the mortise matched the shape of the antiques. You can also use a drill bit if you have the appropriate diameter.

The brass top plate became the template for the wood blank which I rough-shaped at the bandsaw.  You can also use a fret, coping, or scroll saw to make the same cuts.

The fastest way I found to remove the majority of the excess wood was with chisels and gouges.  Then, I used sandpaper-wrapped dowels to finalize the shape of the curves. Files worked well on fine-tuning the flat facets.

If you haven't tried shaping wood before, this project is a nice introduction to what many of us find to be a meditative experience.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

SAPFM: New Regional Chapter

The Society of American Period Furniture Makers is opening a new chapter which includes Maryland, southern Pennsylvania, Delaware, Washington D.C., northern Virginia, and West Virginia.

The first meeting is scheduled for Saturday, April 9, from 10:00-4:00 in Rockville, Maryland and features a demonstration called "Carving the Cabriole Leg for a Low Bedstead by Kaare Loftheim." Kaare Loftheim is the Journeyman Cabinetmaker in the Hays Cabinetmaking Shop at Colonial Williamsburg.

The price is only $20 and includes lunch. Membership to SAPFM is not required, but is encouraged.

Reservations are needed by March 1.  If you would like to attend, email Bert Bleckwenn at bableck@gmail.com as soon as possible.

Bert can give you directions to the meeting along with more information about the organizaton or you can shoot me an email and I'll forward the pdf files about the event to you: goodwoodworkshop@comcast.net.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Why, I oughta...

Frugal and Old School.

I've been called both by a certain partner who mocks me for wearing socks with holes and sneakers with soles worn paper-thin.

Ah, but I sure have some nice tools.  We all have our priorities.

Which is why, when my 15-year-old plastic desk calendar met with an abrupt demise last week due to the uncharacteristic actions of a mild mannered graphic designer who momentarily lost her cool at work, I was reluctant to replace it with a newfangled, electronic gadget with which to record my daily activities.

My partner incorrectly surmised that this event was "the universe beckoning me to join the 21st-century."

What a bunch of hooey.

So, I made tracks to the nearby office supply store to buy a plastic base replacement for the loose calendar pages.

Two cardboard boxes of replacements were on the shelf. To my dismay, I discovered that one had been torn open and was completely empty. The other box was mangled and contained only the plastic base—the U-shaped metal tangs that are used to lock the calendar pages in place were missing.

Not a problem.  I had frugally, nay, wisely saved the metal tangs from my broken calendar base.

I considered purchasing the incomplete product, when I suddenly remembered, "Hey...I'm a woodworker, by gum!"

Back on the shelf went the battered box. And I went home. To my shop. Where I made my own darn calendar base from a piece of cherry.

I saved $10 and I have a much prettier desk calendar to greet me at work each day. It will look spiffy next to my rolodex holder.

The universe was imploring me to get with the times? Horsefeathers!

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Adjustable Levels: What's Under The Hood?




I had hopes of making an adjustable, rather than fixed level, but after taking apart one of the antiques I bought, I see that I lack the necessary skills to do so.

This E. Preston and Sons level (foreground in the first image) includes plumb and level vials, each of which are housed in a "vial casket" (which sounds more like a shoddily constructed sarcophagus than it does an encasement for a spirit level).

The adjustment for both vials relies on a pinned hinge, spring, and machine screw.

The screw slides through the spring and threads into a tapped metal cup that supports the spring. By tightening or loosening the screw, the casket is pulled closer to or pushed further away from the brass top plate. 

It's a clever way to maintain the accuracy of the level. But how do you determine level in the first place?

Several commenters in the last post offered good suggestions. I had planned to find the most level surface in my shop by using manufactured levels and then shimming accordingly. Of course, who's to say that they're accurate?

Instead, I've decided to do as the Romans did by using a trough (in this case, a long glass baking pan), marking a line on each end at the same height from the bottom of the pan, filling it with water, and sitting it on a flat surface in my shop. Then, I'll shim as needed.

After that, I'll lay a large sheet of brass on top of the pan on which to place my shop-made level.  (A sheet of metal rather than wood because it's more likely to be perfectly flat.)

Old vials which did not have adjustment mechanisms relied on plaster to seat the vials.  I'm thinking of using silicone sealer instead because it will remain flexible as the wood expands and contracts with the seasons.

And speaking of vials, you may wonder where I got those two lovely glass ones at the top of the page. Thank you to my friend, Charles Davis, for sending these original, unused Stanleys to me.

They have black lines which help determine when the bubble is centered. Vials that did not have these lines required a center strip of brass on the brass top plate, which can be seen on the Preston level.

The glass vials that Charles sent are curved in a shallow arc to help the bubble find center.

Vials that were not curved made it nearly impossible to center the bubble. The most minute movement in the angle of the level caused the bubble to shoot toward one end of the glass or the other.

That's what I call a vial with a vile temperament.