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!

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.

On The Level

According to Don Rosebrook's excellent resource book American Levels and their Makers, the first levels, which consisted of an A-frame and plumb bob, were developed by the ancient Egyptians. 

Early Romans devised an instrument that's the ancestor to the type of level we're familiar with today.  They used a flat-bottomed trough containing water. When the water reached the same level along the inside walls of the trough, the device would be level.  Simple, but effective.

The use of a tube filled with fluid (wine, in this case) and an air bubble dates back to the 1600s and is credited to Dr. Robert Hooke, an English philosopher.

The levels that are featured in Rosebrook's book are primarily mid to late 19th century.  Woods used during that time include beech, boxwood, cherry, ebony, mahogany, rosewood, and others—heavy, dense, and stable wood.  High-end levels were made of rosewood and often had the most metal trim, some of which was ornate.

This is where my level comes in.  Like many women, I like shiny things.  But not so much on my fingers or ears as on my tools.

I spied what I think is probably a craftsman-made level (because of its shape) in Tony Murland's collection, and decided it was "the one."  A tiny image and one measurement (length) is my reference. Based on this I'm making my level with a .125" strip of brass and a cherry blank. The final dimensions will be 1.5" thick (inlcuding the brass) x 1.75" wide x 10.5" long.

I cut the brass on my new scroll saw (a stress-shopping purchase) with metal-cutting blades, filed it smooth, and screwed it to the cherry blank.

The next steps will be to cut the mortise for the vial, cut the blank to shape, add brass corners to the bottom, and mount the vial.

This is a very fun little project which should get some use in my shop. It would also make a nice gift for someone who likes shiny things.

Valentine's Day is just around the corner, after all.

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Thank you to the commenters who found some helpful links:
Machinists' center drill for starting screw holes in brass.
Slotted brass screws.
More slotted brass screws.
Thread about replacing level vials.
Level vials.

17th Century New England Carving DVD

Many of you are familiar with Peter Follansbee who builds authentic reproduction 17th century New England furniture and writes the blog Joiner's Notes.

Peter works almost exclusively in oak. He splits the logs, planes the boards, carves them, and joins them. From start to finish, he works wood exactly as they did three centuries ago.

Most of his pieces include ornately carved designs which mimic those found in museums and private collections—pieces he has examined first-hand.

Lie-Nielsen produced an 88-minute video in late 2010 featuring Peter and his carving techniques. In the movie, Peter explains the tools and materials, and the postures and grips needed to replicate these patterns.

You only need a few carving tools (he uses four or five gouges and a v-tool, awl, dividers, square, ruler, marking gauge, punches, and mallet) in order to produce this style of carving. This is great news for those who would like to try their hand at it but who don't want to part with a ton of money.

The proper handling of tools, and the procedure for carving decorative motifs and three different patterns are thoroughly covered. Peter starts with some practice cuts, followed by a simple repetitive design and two more layouts which escalate in increasing complexity upon the first.

Peter very clearly and concisely explains and demonstrates his techniques. He removes all the guesswork and leaves you feeling confident about being able to accomplish this style of carving.

The video captures various angles while Peter is working—close up and far away—so you can see his stance, the way he holds the tools, and the cuts he's making.

Included in the DVD are pdfs of some simple layouts, a glossary of terms, a list of selected reference material, and a photo which shows the incisions made by Peter's tools so you can see the sizes and sweeps of the gouges.

If you are interested in learning to carve pieces like this, the video will definitely help you. Combine that with the vast amount of knowledge that Peter generously offers for free on his blog, and you will have a firm grasp on how to do it.

In case you've never seen Peter in action, you can view a video I shot of him at the WIA Conference in 2009 which shows some of his fancy moves.

Here is a link to an article that Peter wrote for Woodwork magazine in 2009 which shows one of the patterns that is featured in his DVD.

Peter was featured on a Woodwright's Shop episode—season 27, number 2701. Here is the link.

The photo of the carved box is from Peter Follansbee's website.
The photo of Peter is one I took at WIA.

New Woodwright's Shop Episodes

Enjoy!

The Woodwright's Shop

Short Bench Support

I have lots of excuses for why I haven't built a workbench to replace my 4.5'-long shorty: too many good designs on the internet vie for attention; Chris Schwarz keeps writing new bench books with more information to consider; good ol' fashioned lethargy rears its slothful head; and I don't have enough space in my shop to build the length of bench I *should* build.

But thanks to Swedish illustrator Carl Larsson, an artist born in 1853 who captured family life and bucolic settings in watercolor, I may have exhausted the usefulness of the last excuse.

Larsson's painting of a carpenter at work in his shop depicts one way to get around the inconvenience of a too-short workbench when working with a long board. The carpenter uses a stool that's the same height as his workbench as a support. And instead of planing the board along the length of the bench, he planes into the bench and uses the sash as a stop.

The board that's being planed is thick enough not to flex under pressure, but what happens when this method is used to plane a 4/4 board? My guess is the unsupported middle would flex, which would compromise its flatness.

One way to support the middle is to build a roll around shop cart with hinged wings and locking casters. Because the wings add more length to the top when extended, the cart's footprint can be small—a benefit to a small shop. Add a couple shelves beneath the top, and you have a very useful shop accessory.

The last image of a young Jesus with his carpenter father shows a small, but sturdy workbench in what appears to be a room with ample space for a longer bench.

Could be this was a popular style of workbench used when this painting was made. Could be there weren't enough tall trees available for lengthy lumber.

Or maybe the artist thought Joseph was just...I don't know. Lazy.

Chemistry-Schemistry

A friend posed this question on facebook recently: What advice would you give your 14 year-old self?

I'd tell myself: Pay more attention in History, Geometry, and Chemistry. But, yeah, you're right about Home Economics. It is just a bunch of malarkey which you'll eschew later....big time.

The only reasons I passed high school Chemistry with Mr. L, the instructor, were because my older brother aced every test (including the first one which tested your current knowledge of the subject) and was therefore well-adored by Mr. L; and he knew my mom, who was a substitute teacher.

Oh, and if you were female and gave Mr. L a hug every time you saw him, you'd pass.

Bring it on, big guy.

But, had I paid more attention in class, I would already understand properties of metal. Instead, I'm studying up on it like crazy so I can use it to gussy up my shop-made tools.

First on my list is to make a level. I bought four at the Brown Dealer Show and Auction yesterday—three for inspiration and one to tear apart.

And I bought five Swiss-made gravers. I was so desperate to try them on brass when I got home, I used the doorknob to my workshop.

The levels include: Stanley Rule & Level Co., 1896, cherry, 30"; E. Preston & Sons, (no date, but probably c. 1900), rosewood 24"; Davis & Cook, 1886, mahogany, 24"; and one we shall refer to as "donor."

By the looks of these, at least some levels secured vials in place with plaster, and better ones included adjustment screws. I'll learn more once I receive Don Rosebrooks' book about American-made levels.

I ordered a sheet of brass from McMaster-Carr. According to their site, the brass listed as Alloy 353 is a good choice for engraving.

In my research, I found that brass is an alloy of copper and zinc. "Alloy" refers to a metal consisting of two or more materials, one of which must be a metal.

But then, you probably paid attention in class and already knew that.

Catharine Kennedy: Engravin' Maven

Wood and metal go hand in hand. We're surrounded by the combination through the tools we use—try squares, handplanes, chisels, to name a few. And as woodworkers, it's necessary for us to learn some things about working with metal—from sharpening plane irons, chisels, and scrapers to making blades and hardware.

But metal isn't just a utilitarian companion to woodworking. We see how brass and steel, engraved with elaborate designs, can turn an ordinary tool into a piece of usable artwork. Many of us appreciate the unique pieces found in collections, like John Sindelar's.

After WIA, and having seen John's traveling display, I became interested in learning to engrave metal for my own projects. Then, a couple months ago, I was introduced to Catharine Kennedy by way of Gary Roberts of the Toolemera website.

I was gobsmacked by her talent for transforming average-looking tools into real beauties. So, I contacted her to learn more about her and her work.

Catharine first became interested in woodworking through a 4th grade class in a private school in Chicago. After college, she became a carpenter, and later became the lead woodworker at the Hancock Shaker Village in Pittsfield, Massachusetts.

Did she ever get any flack from visitors for being a female woodworker? Only from people who didn’t care about woodworking, she says. “The folks who were really into building and tools were absolute joys to be around and to share what I knew.”

Woodworking is still one of Catharine’s interests—it provides a nice break from the high level of precision and tight tolerances required in engraving.

So how did she get started in working with metal? She was demonstrating woodcarving at a county fair and met another demonstrator who was making long rifles. She traded him a sign for lessons in engraving, and her interest “ran amok from there!”

She started metalworking with hammer and chisel, but moved quickly into using power-assisted gravers. “It's still MY hands and eyes doing the work” she says, “very much the same as a lathe is a power-assisted hand tool.”

Round objects are the biggest challenge to engrave and require lots of practice. Catharine prefers to engrave flat objects such as handplanes, knives, and machinist squares, but also likes to engrave ferrules for chisels.

Catharine studied with master engravers who taught the craft based on traditional scrollwork from the 19th-century—the type of artwork found on firearms, knives, and architecture. You can see that influence in her designs in the way handplanes in her care come to resemble the antique lovelies we adore.

So, what other crafts interest Catharine? Basket-, soap-, and candlemaking, stonecarving, blacksmithing, spinning, weaving, and knitting are all things she learned while employed at the Hancock Shaker Village. “If it’s a handcraft, I’m interested!”

If you’d like to talk with Catharine about embellishing your brand new Lie-Nielsen or your grandfather’s Bed Rock #601 , you can contact her at catharine@catharinekennedy.com.

Visit her websites here and here (the second one is not fully operational yet).

And if you’re interested in finding out more about engraving, Catharine suggests becoming a member of online forums (here and here) and taking online classes (here and here).

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*All photos are credited to and the property of Catharine Kennedy.