Chew On This

So, I'm sitting in the dentist's chair today having a tooth drilled, sans Novocaine, ala Little Shop of Horrors, and after the filling is ground with a dremel-like tool whose high-pitched screech can peel paint, the hygienist slides of piece of paper in between my upper and lower choppers.

"Bite down, please. Tap. Tap. Now grind your teeth back and forth."

The paper leaves a residue on the high spots of the filling so the dentist knows where to file, garnering a perfect fit between your teeth.

I often disappear to my "happy place" while at the dentist's office, and today I was whisked away to a book I'm reading, entitled "Our Workshop: Being A Practical Guide To The Amateur In The Art of Carpentry & Joinery" by Temple Thorold, 1866.

This book was sent to me by my friend, Gary Roberts, who runs the Toolemera site. Recently, he's produced exact reprints of some 18th-, 19th-, and early 20th-century woodworking books that contain fascinating, relevant information, all told in a prettier language than we speak today.

The episode with the dentist reminded me of one passage on joining two boards, one of which has been made square:

"If a little chalk be rubbed evenly all over the true edge, a small portion of the white powder will be deposited on the prominent points of the work, if the former be slightly moved backwards and forwards over the latter in the direction of its length. By removing the material where the chalk has adhered we shall soon bring the edge of the second plank into close contact with that of the first."

I had to try it. One problem, though—no chalk. The next door neighbor kid has a bunch that she uses to decorate our shared driveway (which is highly amusing and much appreciated), but I was unable to divert her attention long enough to pilfer some.

Instead, I tried a series of experiments with graphite, flour, baking powder, and powdered sugar. Nothing worked well. So, I reluctantly parted with a buck and bought a pack of chalk. Which worked.

"Our Workshop" is a short book, only about 195 pages, but covers several topics that a handtool woodworker would find captivating. Many will already know much of the content, but there are enough details and tidbits that you might not know, all presented so eloquently as to be lyrical, that it's an absolute delight.

And it's close enough to modern language to be easily understood. Like Moxon, but without the lisp.

Two Upcoming Auctions

If you've never been to the PATINA auction, dealers' show, and tailgating extravaganza, you're missing out on one of the best tools sales on the east coast. It's this Saturday, the 13th.

I went for the first time last year, ran into some friends, snapped a photo of St. Roy, and came home with some new toys.

The tailgating starts around 6:00 a.m. and the doors open at 9:00 for the dealers' show.

The second auction is the Brown International Antique Tool Auction on March 26 and 27. The dealers' sale is Friday and the actual auction is Saturday. It's a good sale, but the spring show is typically not quite as packed with vendors as the fall show. Last year, vendors started closing up early and many were gone by 5:00. So if you plan to go, go early.

Almost Out of the Woods

My busy season is starting to wind down at work, which means I have time to take a walk during the day to get some fresh air.

Soon I'll hear the buzz of chainsaws as people have their trees pruned or cut down. That's the sound of early Spring around here—music to my ears.

It reminds me of one of the first projects I ever built: a rustic chair. Back then, I had only a jigsaw, electric drill, one chisel, a really dull handsaw, and sandpaper. I didn't have much disposable income to buy tools or nice lumber. But I did and still do live in a neighborhood that has an abundance of trees. And neighbors who love to trim them.

One day on a walk, I spied a homeowner cutting down his small locust tree. I've never been shy about anything, except for being a wee bit shy of 5' 6" tall, so I asked him if he had plans for the wood. Nope. Would it be okay if I took it home? Yep.

So, what do you do with short, gnarled branches? You build a rustic piece.

I had read about mortise and tenon joinery so I drilled holes with a spade bit and used the chisel to make the tenons, which I rounded with sandpaper. It took a long time, but I was so proud of the painfully uncomfortable chair I had built.

Then I found more branches and made a rustic table. Try using a dull handsaw to cut limbs in half lengthwise if you ever feel like being mean to yourself.

Eighteen years later I'm still using branches and logs given to me by friends. I use them to make spoons and lately, a kuksa. The difference is, now I have some really nice tools to use.

So keep your eyes and ears open. Let your friends know to keep you in mind if they're planning to cut down a tree.

And if you live in apple country like me, now is the time that orchards are cutting down old apple trees and are happy to give them away.

You don't need a hike in the woods or the lumberyard to find suitable wood for projects. Sometimes you can find what you need right in your neighbors' backyard.

Films from 1930s Finland

Heritage Crafts Association posted a link on its facebook page to some interesting films made in Finland from 1936-1939.

One in particular is a film that woodworkers will like. It's 34 minutes long and here are some key parts:
10:30-12:13: using a bow saw, auger, and axe to make a maul.
12:47-18:54: using an axe, knife, and frame saw to make an axe handle; and using a piece of glass as a scraper.

The remaining minutes show some agile knife work to make toys and slats, and wooden wedges to split logs.

Here is a link to the video and here is a link to the main page if you would like to see other crafts.
You'll want to install the latest version of Flash, otherwise, the films are pretty choppy.

Stalled Horse

I've been talking about making a shaving horse for a while now. So what's the hold up?

It's because I keep finding images of benches with features that I'd like to incorporate into mine and because of woodworkers like Ian McLeod from Australia (pictured with his shop dog, Woody), who sent me photos of his functional and beautiful shaving horse.

Ian used reclaimed iron bark wood from a 1904 foot bridge for his self-designed, multi-use bench that functions as a shaving horse, saw horse, planing bench, general work table, and metal bending jig.




The bridge can be removed by knocking out wooden wedges and removing the spindle on which it pivots. At that point, the four short spindles that sit beneath the bridge can be used for bending light metal rod.

When the bridge, the head/footrest assembly, and the seat are removed (all attached with wooden wedges), the top surface of the side rails can be used as a workbench. The rectangular post that hangs beneath the shaving horse is used as a bench stop.

Ian hand carved the decorative designs. The color and texture of the wood is natural and is finished with Danish oil once a year.

Ian's shaving horse is an impressive example of where form and function are equally important.

The group photo page below shows shaving horses and bowl benches I found on the internet. I don't remember where they were originally posted, so if you see one that belongs to you please let me know so I can give you credit. Or let me know if you prefer that I remove your image(s) from this post.

Here is a link to a clever cutting bench for bowl making.





At some point I'll need to commit to a design so I can finally get my horse out of the starting gate.

Woodworking is Truth, Truth Woodworking

If only the poetry we studied in high school had been like the following, I might have actually enjoyed it.

As it was, reading poetry at best bored me and at worst frustrated me. I was like, "Geez, get to the point!"

But in Drew Langsner's latest newsletter from Country Workshops, he included some poems that 6th and 7th grade students wrote in a class taught by his friend, a teacher in Saudi Arabia. The exercise was to write a poem about handmade spoons and butter paddles:

I enter the room

And see the wood blocks

Waiting to be carved.

~Haiku by Riya Benoy

wood

plain, brown

chiseling, sanding, chiseling

It is almost done.

sanding, oiling, admiring

smooth, finished

Spoon

~Diamante by Phillip Parent

Carving

Creativity comes in every way –

A block of wood might

Really be important,

Varying in shape and size –

Never ending forms, each spoon

Getting better each day.

~Acrostic by Taylor Bell

A rough block of wood,

Carved,

Sanded,

Beautiful with walnut oil,

First light, then dark.

Handmade.

~Free Verse by Kaily Saltaformaggio

Making things with our hands is a form of poetry. And I was lucky enough to enroll in a hand tool class being taught by Jögge Sundqvist this summer at Country Workshops where we'll learn to make bowls and spoons, Swedish style.

Hopefully, I'll come away from the course well versed in making them.

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The spoons in the top photo were carved by Jögge Sundqvist.

The spoons in the second photo were carved by Drew Langsner.

A Real Puzzler

Above is a photo of:

A. A hampster duvet.
B. A close-up of Howard Stern's hair.
C. An inexhaustible font of fun for my dog.
D. A pile of wood shavings from Hans, my scrub plane.
E. Hors d'oeuvres from the Annual Bevy of Beavers Convention.

If you answered C or D.....you're correct!

At our last woodworking club meeting, I helped give a presentation on handplanes to a group that is mainly comprised of power tool guys.*

I wasn't quite sure how to start, but then it came to me.

"Okay, say you have a large, rough cut board that you just know has gorgeous grain underneath all that fuzz, but the board has an insane twist. It's too wide for your jointer unless you first rip it in half. What do you do?"

From the crowd, my favorite heckler shouts "Throw it out!"

I was counting on that.

Really? You'd throw away a 10" wide, 6' long piece of black walnut because of a twist? With that, I tossed a short, rough cut board onto the bench, grabbed Hans, and in 20 seconds was showing the group some lovely (albeit, scalloped) wood grain.

I explained that as fast as that, you can knock high spots off your twisted board and make it stable enough to run through your power planer. This way, you keep the board intact and it's much faster than ripping, jointing, gluing, and then running it through the planer. (The last two photos are after power planing.)

Back in my shop, I'm preparing boards for a shaving horse. Every single board that I retrieved from my lumberyard (garage) is severely twisted. But I took my own advice and spent about 15 minutes with Hans on one particularly nice board and then ran it through the planer.

Once I trim the sapwood and ends, I'll have a nice pair of legs for the shaving horse.

So, why would anyone throw out or burn a beautiful piece of walnut like this when it's so easy to prepare it for milling?

Now there's a question I can't answer.

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*I am in no way trying to cut on power tools or people (like me) who use them.

Wooden Planes: Personality Plus

Since I mainly use wooden planes in the shop (four I made, one I bought), I've gotten to know them better than the couple of metal ones I use. And by getting to know them, I mean just that—each one has its own personality.

I believe that no two wooden planes, even the same style of plane, made with the same materials by the same planemaker, will work precisely the same way. Not only that, but the same plane used by two different people will handle differently.

My quirky crew consists of a block plane, a smoother (masquerading as a jack), a jack (masquerading as a smoother), a jointer, and a scrub. Each one has different capabilities and each one has mood swings (no doubt affected in part by the user’s state of mind).

New wooden planes (at least the ones I've made) seem to have a break-in period, where the parts—wedge, pin, iron, body—get settled into their optimum positions.

Your hands and the wooden body also have to get to know one another, and the more you use it, the more the plane will start to feel natural, like an extension of your hand. In use, it’s slowly being rounded and shaped to fit your grip. Have you ever seen an old, well-used wooden plane with an indentation from a thumb on its side? I have. And I hope my planes develop similar marks someday.

Over the years, I've come to appreciate my planes' particular characteristics.

Take Eddie, my overly-sensitive block plane. He’s a tough little sprite on the outside, but gets choked up at times. Chuck, the bruiser, who started life as a smoother but turned into a big mouth, proudly wears a scar on his cheek, takes on the toughest grain and says “Knot on my watch!”

Then there’s Jack, the jack. He’s a smooth operator. He shoots, he glides, he talks nicely to the workpiece and makes it shine. Hans, the scrub, is a scrappy fellow. Feeds on wood fiber like piranhas on a cow.

And last but not least is Devereau, the jointer. The only female in the bunch. She’s sleek and attractive, but the least predictable. One day she’ll produce a gossamer shaving and the next, she’ll take a wicked bite out of your board. Or conversely, completely ignore it and refuse to remove even a whisper of wood.

I use only two metal bench planes in my shop and haven’t experienced any attitude problems with them. They’re trusty and stable, like Ward and June Cleaver.

Who ever said woodworking is a solitary hobby?*

*Or is it a sign that you need solitary confinement if you anthropomorphize your handplanes?