Woodworking in the Movies

David Finck designed and built the box at right as a prop in an upcoming movie entitled Nights in Rodanthe, set for release in October. The movie stars Richard Gere and Diane Lane, whose character dabbles in woodworking. David was commissioned to not only supply props, but to instruct Diane Lane in woodworking techniques, including handcutting dovetails and handplaning.

You can see the movie trailer here: http://nightsinrodanthe.warnerbros.com/

I'm curious whether Diane comes across as a legitimate woodworker or if she's as believable as Paris Hilton portraying a brain surgeon. But because I'd just as soon pluck my eyebrows with a chainsaw than go see a barfy romance movie, I'll ask that if any of you would be willing to take one for the team, suffer through the viewing, and then email me your opinion....I'd be indebted. No, really.

Buggy Factory

Saturday we took a trip to "Buggy Town". Mifflinburg, PA was home to more than 80 buggy shops in the 19th c. with one, purportedly the only one in the U.S,. still intact: W. A. Heiss Coachworks.

I had hoped to see a collection of carriagemaker planes at the museum, but there were none. There was, however, the only treadle-powered table saw I had ever seen. It looked homemade with an odd-shaped, adjustable fence and a fixed board in front of the blade whose purpose befuddled me. I suppose it was used as a stop.

There were some handsome buggys on display, some with fancy paint jobs. The finishers in the factory were commissioned with the most egregious portion of the assembly, not only because applying the finish was so difficult, but because they had to work in an unventilated room on the second floor of an unheated, unairconditioned, uninsulated, wooden warehouse. They had to keep the windows closed while they worked to prevent dust from settling on the finish. 8-10 hour days/6 days a week. Suddenly, my job doesn't look so bad.

The woods used in the buggys' construction were: poplar and pine for the body; oak for the undercarriage; and hickory for the spokes and wheels.

In the last photo, you can see the brake pad pressing against the rear wheel. I asked our guide what they were made from and she said anything from wood to fabric to leather to shoes. And that, she said, is where the term "brake shoes" comes from.

Of course, she may have been pulling my leg....
or my New Balance.

Creative Thinking

How the heck did he/she come up with that?

That’s what goes through my mind when I peruse woodworking books that feature original designs. That...and maybe I should turn in my woodworking badge.

A friend who took a furniture design class was taught to brainstorm by sketching ideas and then constructing small-scale models with foam core, hot glue, paper, cardboard, and wood. The instructor pointed him towards nature for inspiration. Flip the piece upside down, he suggested, consider the negative space, the angles, the lines. Look at it from all angles. How does your eye follow the design? Why do you like a particular design or feature? Does a piece have to be square and level? Must a table have 4 legs, 3 legs?

My friend was taught to think outside the box.

In Robin Landa’s book Thinking Creatively (a graphic design book), she lists design principles pertaining to the relationship among elements that, I believe, parallel woodworking: balance, unity, hierarchy, rhythm, and contrast. I’ll add scale, proportion, and pattern.

As woodworkers, we have at our disposal loads of inspiring books that showcase styles from period to ultra-modern. But I think we can also find inspiration from other disciplines including sculpture, painting, fashion, and architecture.

I’m horrible at coming up with original woodworking designs and I’d like to find more exercises for unlocking creativity. One thought is to take a sketchbook along with you. Anything that catches your eye—a doorway, the curve of a leaf, a bridge’s framework, a feather boa—jot it down. I suggest sketchbook rather than camera because you’re immediately forced to make your own interpretation.

That’s the only excercise I’ve come up with. If anyone else would like to offer procedures or books that help with thinking outside the box, chime right in!

Photos are from 400 Wood Boxes: The Fine Art of Containment & Concealment.
Photo 1: Brian McLachlan
Photo 2: Ray Jones
Photo 3: Terry Evans

Krenov Style Planes

I was taught to make Krenov style handplanes by David Finck, a man whose work I so admire, he could tell me that chocolate-covered dog poo makes a superb finish and I'd believe him.

David wrote the book "Making & Mastering Wood Planes" (pricey because it's out of print, but if you write David, he will let the publisher know they are in demand). His book is not only a recipe for making planes, it covers: tuning your bandsaw and several handtools; sharpening techniques; making a grinding jig, a routing jig, a small hammer, & a sharpening stone cradle; planing techniques & planing jigs; and more.

The body of the Krenov style planes consists of two side pieces, a front piece, and a back piece. Because they are laminated, it makes construction easier than planes constructed with a solid chunk of wood. Two other pieces, a wedge and a pin, which holds the wedge and iron in place, complete the plane.

David sells plane irons on his site that take a long time to sharpen but which hold an edge for a very long time.

The most difficult part in making these planes, at least for me, is opening the throat. You must be patient, because it's easy to remove too much wood and create too wide an opening for shavings. Two benefits of a thin opening are less chance of tearout and a smoother finish. However, your iron must be extremely sharp, otherwise the shavings will jam up.

The second most difficult part is fitting the wedge. It must contact the pin, ideally along the entire width of the wedge, but at least must contact the outer edges of the wedge. This ensures your iron will be held firmly in place.

David wrote an article in Fine Woodworking issue #196 that gives you an overview of building a plane. So if you aren't able to find David's book, you can at least read his article.

One more thing...David recommends oil, shellac, or nothing as a finish for the planes. Not dog poo.

Handcarved Star

To carve a star, follow the basic principles in lettercarving. For this technique, you only need a straight chisel and a mallet (not even a mallet, if you push hard enough to make your stop cuts). And you'll make life easier on yourself if you create a star where any two points share a common wall—a straight line drawn from point to point.

In the illustration above, the dashed lines are low spots, the valleys, where you will make the stop cuts.

This star is 1.875" diameter, so I'm using a 20mm straight chisel: small enough to manage but large enough that the width of the blade is wider than the deepest cut and almost as wide as the stop cut is long.

First, define the stop cuts. They should not be deep as the final depth of cut and should taper to nothing at the star's points. Bevel up, start at any point and ease the chisel into the cut, gradually slicing deeper as you reach center, then easing up again as you approach the opposite point. Here is the advantage of two points sharing a common wall: with one cut, you have established one of the two walls on each of two spurs of the star.

Keep an eye on the grain direction to avoid tearout and work your way around the star. You should not try to remove the waste in one slice, but ideally two (I've never mastered this). With subsequent passes, be sure to lay the chisel's back flat against the wall created in the first slice to ensure a clean, single facet, wall.

Remove stubborn pieces by continuing the slicing method and/or by sliding the chisel directly downward into the valleys.

In the photo at right, you can see tearout on the upper right spur. Slicing with the grain is most difficult and tearout means you should cut in the other direction. I cleaned it up fairly well with very light paring slices. Not perfect, but no one will inspect your work as closely as you (or another woodworker!) will.

If the spurs do not meet in the middle, that means the walls' angles are not consistent and you'll have to carefully pare the shallower walls to match the sharpest-angled walls.

I'ts easier than you might think to carve a star, but it's a design element that prompts admirers to say "nifty!"

Why Antique Tools?

That's what my partner asked me a while ago. "I know why you use handtools, but what's the intrigue with antique handtools?"

"Well", I explained, "it's because...well...hmmm, let me think about it."

I use handtools in general because 1) sawdust makes me cough 2) by working with handtools, it seems more like I'm shaping the wood rather than a power tool creating the shape 3) I don't waste as much wood by making practice cuts 4) the set up time is faster 5) it's quiet 6) it's a great workout 7) it's safer 8) wood shaped with handtools seems to have more character (in my opinion), 9) handtools have personality and there is synergy between the user and tool that I've never felt with my power tools (except for my band saw—I love that guy), 10) you can do things with handtools that you can't do with power tools (skinny little dovetails, for instance) and 11) I just like it.

But why antique handtools?

The first thing that popped into my head is that some tools are no longer manufactured, so an antique is your only option. But that's not really my reason for buying and using them.

I use antique tools purely for nostalgic and aesthetic reasons. I love the dings, dents, owners' marks, patina, feel, and historical aspects of them. They are a link to our past and as I use them, I think about the previous owners and sense a connection. There's also something physically different about antique tools; it's like you're sliding your hand into a favorite, well-worn glove. Could be that years of use have altered the shape slightly so they fit more comfortably in your hand than new tools.

And where I believe handtools have personality, antique ones are full of character. You'll find everything from crotchety curmudgeons to quirky & finicky great-uncles to gentle & wise old grandfathers.


So, I ask you....what's your intrigue with antique tools?

Carriagemaker Planes

I am NOT a tool collector*.

At right is a photo of all my antique tools. Rather paltry when compared with some folks’ stockpiles. I love antique tools, but I only buy ones that I plan to refurbish and use.

Mostly.

Every so often, I come across a little beauty that begs to come home with me, regardless of whether or not I’ll ever use it. One such tool is this carriagemaker—also, coachmaker— plough plane (photos 3-5) that I purchased from Lee Richmond at The Best Things. A friend who knows way more about antique tools than I do, reckoned it was 18th c. because of the wedged, rather than screw, arms.

The more ornate and unusual carriagemaker planes (such as those in the second photo**), at least from my limited antique tool shopping experience, are hard to find. And the only information I’ve ever found about the planes have come from short paragraphs in a few ww books and articles.

The one I bought isn’t very fancy, but other carriagemaker planes are among the most exquisite planes I’ve ever seen. Those are the ones I can’t afford. One such plane is the Falconer Plough Plane, of which only 3 or 4 exist. I witnessed one being sold at auction a year ago for $33,000.

The skate on my plough plane is shorter than a regular plough plane because carriagemakers worked primarily with curves. The thumbscrew works the depth stop. The blade has little “wings” that I’m guessing act as nickers, but someone correct me if I’m wrong. Because of the thin width of the blade, I’m also surmising it was used to cut grooves for inlay.

The only other carriagemaker tool I have is a little router (last photo) that cuts a delicate profile. Again, it came home with me because I liked the look and feel of it. But, you never know....maybe I’ll build a carriage someday and I can reinforce my claim of being a tool user, not collector.

*I do not mean to imply that there is anything wrong with tool collecting.
** Photo is from Sandor Nagyszalanczy's book "Tools: Rare and Ingenious".

Rose Engine Ornamental Lathe

The presentation at last night's woodworkers' meeting was given by Dean Swagert, club member, who built his own Rose Engine Ornamental Lathe from plans printed in an article in American Association of Woodturners publication.

Dean is a Rock Star Woodworker.








The Rose Engine gets its name from the shape of the rosette wheels that play a part in the shape that is cut into the workpiece. Several other variables, like position of the carbide cutter, design of the rosettes (you can stack more than one on the machine), use of the indexing plate, and shape of the rubber, can also alter the design.

The rosettes are fastened to a headstock that pivots back and forth and bounces off the rubber; the wheels are turned with polyurethane tubing; the motor is 7.5 rpm, direct drive; and for increased precision, Dean installed a variable speed motor and compound gear system.

Dean turns pieces on a regular lathe that are simply amazing. He explains how he makes them, but it's way over my head. He also makes traditional Japanese tansu cabinetry, with hardware made in Japan.

And here are some of the pieces this quiet, humble, Korean War veteran has made with his Rose Engine Lathe. Enjoy!

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YouTube video using an ornamental lathe.
Plans to build one of your own.
Rose Engine Lathe and parts for sale.
Previous post about the Rose Engine Lathe.