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Blog : Inspiration and information for the hand-tool-focused woodworker
Thursday
04Mar2010

Ruskin on Handwork

This post is a bit of a cheat in that it is simply a quote I have been wanting to share for a while.  It's from 'The Seven Lamps of Architecture' by John Ruskin, and is the best, most concise defence of handwork I have read. 

Bowls by Robin WoodRuskin writes, "I said early in this essay that handwork might always be known from machine work; observing, however, at the same time, that it was possible for men to turn into machines, and to reduce their labour to the machine level; but so long as men work as men, putting their heart into what they do, and doing their best, it matters not how bad workmen they may be, there will be that in the handling which is above all price: it will be plainly seen that some places have been delighted in more than others - that there have been a pause and a care about them; and then there will come careless bits and fast bits; and here the chisel will have struck hard and there lightly, and anon timidly; if the man’s mind as well as his heart went with his work, all this will be in the right places, and each part will set off the other; and the effect of the whole, as compared to the same design cut by a machine or lifeless hand will be like that of poetry well read and deeply felt to that of the same verses jangled by rote.  There are many to whom the difference is imperceptible; but to those who love poetry it is everything - they had rather not hear it at all than hear it ill read; and to those who love architecture the life and accent of the hand are everything."

I can't really add anything to that - except to note that women make things too....

Friday
12Feb2010

Something to believe in

Confusion and uncertainty are an intrinsic part of the process of designing and making things.  If you are someone who is at all serious about woodworking then you know the feeling when a design or a piece in progress gets stuck.  Suddenly there is no clarity about where you are going with it. You might be faced with blankness, or overwhelming doubt, or with a sea of details which you can't relate to one another. 

This is not a comfortable place to be. To make something well from wood takes a lot of time, commitment and emotional energy.  We care about what we are doing, and want to be true to ourselves and our craft.  Often there is financial risk involved; timber, time and workshops are not cheap.  Sometimes there may be other people who are paying us, and who have their own hopes and dreams about what we are making. 

When confusion or doubt arise and we are faced with a mass of disconnected ideas and details it may be helpful ask ourselves with all the honesty we can; what is there in what we have done so far that we can truly believe in?  If the work started with an honest impulse then the chances are that somewhere in it there will be something we can trust.  Perhaps it will be just a feeling we know the piece needs to have, or an intention which got lost along the way.  Or it could be a shape, a detail or a particular piece of timber that seems to hold a promise.  Somewhere there will be a thing that rings true, that seems worth doing.  We need to listen for it - and trust it when we find it - because the way back into the piece is through that one thing.

Sunday
07Feb2010

DVD Review: Unlocking the Secrets of Traditional Design with George Walker

What is the weakest link in your woodworking?  I bet that for a majority of woodworkers an honest answer to this question would be "design".  Technical competence among woodworkers is on the whole very high, but often this competence is somewhat wasted on pieces whose design is not worthy of the skill used to create them.  There seems to be a growing awareness of this problem at the moment, and this DVD from the Lie Nielsen Toolworks makes an excellent start in improving matters. It also left me with a few niggles, but let's start with the good stuff, of which there is plenty.

The DVD is focussed on 18th century American furniture, which tended to be designed using the classical rules of proportion.  In other words the pieces were based on the system of proportion used in Ancient Greek temples - which was later taken up and further developed by the Romans.  This system underlies a great deal of historic architecture in the West.  Its longevity is an indication of its effectiveness.

George Walker describes and explains the classical proportions and how they can be applied to furniture design in a very entertaining and accessible manner.  Along the way he introduces basic design concepts such as symmetry, contrast and punctuation.  If you are someone who finds the design phase of building a piece the most daunting, then the DVD is worth buying on the basis of these explanations alone.  They will introduce you to ways of thinking about design which can help to underpin the process and give it some structure.  This is a whole lot more fun than being faced with a blank sheet of paper and a feeling of uneasiness!

The DVD is beautifully produced and put together, with each part related to the whole and leading logically on to the next; rather like one of the pieces of furniture Mr Walker so admires in fact.  Towards the end, he pulls everything together by designing a chest of drawers in real time.  Cleverly he splits the design down the middle with each half done in a different style but using the same proportional system.  One side is in a traditional style, the other in a "studio" style. 

Part of the intention of this is to demonstrate how classical proportional systems can be effectively applied to very different styles.  This is quite true, but it was here that I started to feel some niggles arise.  These were to do with the use of the term traditional, with how mechanical the design process was, and with how the limitations of the classical design system were not discussed - particularly in relation to "studio" furniture.

I'm very conscious that the DVD was made in America and that in much of the USA the word "traditional" equates very strongly with things designed with the use of classical proportions.  The reasons for this are historic.  America is a relatively young country and was growing into statehood and laying the foundations of its traditions at the very time in which sober, classical architecture was re-establishing itself as the international style of choice after the excesses of the Baroque.  As it happens this style was perfectly suited to the needs of a growing nation with a diverse population, and space to fill.

One of the greatest strengths of the classical system (and also one of its greatest limitations) is that it simplifies the process of design.  Applying the classical proportions consistently works, in that you tend to end up with things that are fairly harmonious and pleasing to the eye almost by default.  It is a very fast and efficient way to design things that look good.  Furthermore it is easy to apply on any scale, from the smallest house to the largest state building.   As an additional bonus, things designed using the system tend to harmonise with each other, so it can provide architectural cohesion at the level of the town, state or country as well.  All these factors made it ideal for a nation that needs to do a lot of building quickly in order to accommodate a rising population, and to create an identity and social cohesion while doing so.

Watching George Walker draw on screen I was very struck by the speed with which he was able to design something that looked harmonious.  I was also struck by how mechanical much of the process was, and by the lack of a living relation to the material that was to be used.  Only once the design was finished were various types of timber suggested, and these were presented in almost a “mix and match” type of way.  The design itself depended much more on mathematics than on a living and indivisible relationship to the particular timber it was to be made from. Of course there was creative input and judgement, but a very significant part of the process was applying rules and formulae.  It was this that made me question the application of the principles to a pieces of "studio" furniture. 

If by studio furniture we mean ordinary design "jazzed up" with a bit of fancy timber and contemporary mouldings then I suppose the approach makes sense.  However to me this is to waste one of the most important contributions that studio furniture has to make.  One of the primary differences between studio furniture and everyday furniture is that in the studio the focus is less on speed and more on exploration.  The furniture studio is a place to make discoveries. It is one of the few arenas where we can engage in a tactile, intuitive and direct relationship with the work and the material.  We have the chance to have a "finger tip adventure" to use Krenov's phrase, to create unique things that have a radically different quality to those we come across most of the time.

The world is full of beautiful and pleasing things which do not adhere to the classical laws of proportion.  Some were made with approaches that predate even the Ancient Greeks. For example there is the much more intuitive approach to making things which you find in many vernacular traditions.  These often rely on feel, cultural expectation and the judgement of the eye rather than on measured proportion and exact mathematical relationships. Such traditions can create things which are less ordered and rational, but that can also be more soul-full and alive than classical work if approached intelligently.  Another example of an alternate design tradition was the Gothic, which drew on the geometry of the circle in new ways to create soaring creations that mirrored the spirit of the natural world. Gothic architecture doesn’t need a set-square - it only needs a piece of string!

Classical design is perfectly suited for the very necessary and important work of efficiently producing everyday buildings and other items that are charming, well proportioned and beautiful.  I would like to see it used more often that it is because it is a rational and economically viable way to reduce the blight of shoddy and thoughtless design that is overshadowing the towns and countryside near where I live and in many other parts of the world.  But let's remember that there are many other approaches to design - and many other traditions.  We should be aware of them and choose the ones we use as consciously as possible when we enter the studio.

Friday
22Jan2010

An Easy Way to Draw Accurate Circles - Freehand!

There's a lot of talk about design in woodworking circles on the 'net at the moment, perhaps related to the recent release of Lie Nielsen's new video Unlocking the Secrets of Traditional Design. So since design is in the air I thought I'd share a little drafting trick to help you quickly and easily draw accurate freehand circles, both in plan and in perspective.

Why is this useful to you? Firstly it is a great thing to have in your toolbag when developing designs by sketching freehand (naturally the technique also gives you the ability to draw semicircles, arches and arcs as well as whole circles). Secondly it allows you to draw accurate circles and arcs in perspective when the skewing of the subject can make drawing by eye extremely unintuitive. It takes a bit of practice, but it will soon comes quickly and naturally. 

So here's how you do it:

First draw a square with sides the same length of the diameter of the circle you want to draw.  Cross the circle diagonally to find the centre, then divide it into four smaller squares as shown.
Draw a diagonal line from corner to corner across one of the small squares like this.
Now draw an arc round point x, whose radius is x-y, so that it crosses the line at A.  With a bit of practice you can eyeball this.
Draw a vertical line from A to B.  Use this as a basis to make a square within the original square.
You now have eight points which you can join together freehand to create a circle.

As I mentioned above, the great thing about this technique is that it works just as well in perspective:

NB make sure that the first thing you do after drawing the original square is to draw the diagonals.  These will give you the centre for the horizontal division.  And remember - practice makes perfect!

Sunday
17Jan2010

The Advantages of Drawing

"I don’t trust any architect who can’t draw".  Thus spoke Prince Charles recently, not being one to pull his punches where architects are concerned.  Many people might be surprised to learn that there is such a thing as an architect who can't draw; the idea seems an oxymoron.  However in the computer age it is easy (and economically tempting) to let the computer completely take over the process of depicting our ideas.  Here are a few reasons why picking up a pencil and paper again is worth it:

Firstly, drawing forces us to look closely.  When we draw a building or piece of furniture we have to give it our intense attention.  Through this we start to see things that we otherwise would skim over or miss altogether.  This expands our store of design possibilities, and increases our connection with the work of others, past and present.

Drawing also develops our sensitivity.  Through seeking to reproduce the lines found in nature or a great work of art we become more aware of subtle differences between lines and the effects these differences have on us.  As craftspeople or designers this awareness transfers directly into a greater sensitivity towards line and form in our work.

Learning to draw gives us a direct and expressive language we can use to communicate with clients and colleagues - and with ourselves.  It is the quickest way to develop visual ideas and is infinitely flexible.  It avoids the very common problem of having the imaginative side of our work subtly controlled or directed by the interface and limitations of a Computer Aided Design system.

Finally, drawing is a very grounded and holistic process. In order to draw we need to notice that we have both a mind and a body, and use them in a skilful and integrated way. What we draw is a direct expression of us as a human being.  This is no bad thing when we are designing things for other human beings to live with.

Why this sudden zeal about drawing?  Recently I have been lucky enough to be able do a couple of courses at the Prince's Drawing School.  This is a wonderful instution, where you can do anything from an evening class to a postgraduate diploma in drawing.  If you live near enough I highly recommend you go!

Friday
31Jul2009

Beautiful Handmade Workbenches

I just wanted to draw attention to a range of beautiful handmade workbenches that are being created in Lincolnshire by Richard Maguire. I've just come across his website and am very impressed by the quality on offer.  I am also delighted to see that Richard works entirely by hand. Looking at his work reaffirms my belief in the difference in feel between hand and machine made work

Anyone in the market for a quality bench should check these out. Although not inexpensive they are a cut above even the good quality manufactured benches by the likes of Sjobergs, both in terms of how they look and feel and in their build quality.  I would say that, for what you get, they represent excellent value.

You can see more at http://www.rm-workbenches.co.uk/

Wednesday
29Jul2009

A Brown Oak and Cherry Cabinet

This cabinet is now finished. The inspiriation for the design came from the idea of taking a method of construction that is usually used in quite a rustic way (tongue and groove) and turning it into something more refined.

There are more pictures here

Friday
24Jul2009

The Quality Without a Name

In his extraordinary and important book 'The Timeless Way of Building', Christopher Alexander talks of 'the quality without a name'. He is referring to that quality that is sometimes found in a place or thing which can by touched on (although never precisely defined) by words like alive, whole, undivided and eternal.

If we are at all sensitive we may notice this quality in those environments that support and enrich us.  Places where it feels good to be in a deep sense.  We know it when we see it, but we can't reduce it to a formula. Alexander writes:

... it is easy to understand why people believe so firmly that there is no single, solid basis for the difference between good building and bad. It happens because the single central quality which makes the difference cannot be named.

This quality without a name may be found on the sort of street that encourages a feeling of community, and where we wish to linger, chat and 'be' - those happy places where commerce and conviviality cheerfully coexist.  It is to be found in those houses in which we tend to feel safe, comfortable, human and fully alive.  It exists in a well made table; one that encourages togetherness, companionship and laughter - or solitude and contemplation - among those who sit round it.

The 'quality without a name' is absent in a shopping mall that is designed only with a view to utility and the maximisation of profit.  It is nowhere to be found in a house where comfort has become a fetish at the expense of soul needs.  It is not present in a table that is intended to display status or wealth - and hence to intimidate.

If we are sensitive to this quality without a name, appreciate its importance, and are interested in making things or places in which it can be present, then we are faced with a frustrating problem.  How can we work in a concrete way with something which is by its nature tacit, which cannot be pinned down precisely by thought? We may notice the sort of things and patterns which tend to be associated with it, yet find that they may all be present in our work without that quality also being present. How then are we to approach it?

There is a clue to be found in Hinduism. In Advaita Vedanta, Brahman, or God, is often described as 'Neti Neti', which translates as 'not this, not this'.  How can you approach the divine, it is asked, when it is utterly beyond the limits of thought?  One can only say what it is not.  This is a profound insight, and also a supremely practical one.

If we are aware of the absence of the 'quality without a name', we can use this to guide us in our work. Through a process of rejecting everything which is not it, saying no ruthlessly over and over again, there is just a chance that, if we are lucky, when all that it is not has been stripped away, there it will be - luminous, shining through.

 

Monday
20Jul2009

Re-doing Things

Have you ever had that sinking feeling in the middle of a piece that you've made a design mistake?  Sometimes as soon as you do something you know it's not as good as you hoped.  At other times the realisation sneaks up on you over a couple of days.  If you're anything like me you probably try to ignore that voice at first, or to rationalise it away.  "It's not that bad", you say to yourself or, "no one will notice once the doors are on". 

I know that whenever I have left a fixable mistake un-corrected I have regretted it.  So after a couple of weeks of pretending it's not there, and hoping it will go away, I have spent the last two days correcting a howler I made with the design of a cabinet back panel.  My original thinking was to have a simple, framed, tongue and groove back panel.  Then at the last minute - for reasons I can't now clearly remember - I decided to put an extra rail near the bottom of the panel.  I must have been having a bad day, because it looked dreadful, clashing with the drawers which are located just beneath it.  The peaceful feeling I was looking for was lost.

Fortunately I usually only attach back panels with pins, and I use hide glue, so I was able to remove the panel, take it to pieces, and make some new parts.  It took two days, but as I finished off this evening I have a happy feeling that it was worth it.  I now have the cabinet I was hoping for - what a relief!

The moral is: if you get that sinking feeling, and it's at all possible, make the changes you know in your heart are needed.  You will not regret it.  The alternative is that every time you see the piece, or remember it, or see a picture of it you will kick yourself - for the rest of your life!

Thursday
09Jul2009

Convivial Machines

Machines have the ability to either humanise or de-humanise us. Designed and used wisely they can free free us to make greater use of our higher faculties by removing unnecessary drudgery. They can allow us to work more effectively and efficiently while still experiencing that intelligent interplay of body, mind and heart that is at the root of meaningful work.  Instead of replacing skilled work, machines can enhance it. Poorly conceived or thoughtlessly used, however, machines result in the merciless drudgery of the production line. Work then becomes a mere matter of survival, rather than the integral and deeply satisfying part of our lives that it has the potential to be.

In the introduction to his thoughtful book Tools for Conviviality, Ivan Illich writes:

To formulate a theory about a future society both very modern and not dominated by industry, it will be necessary to recognise natural scales and limits. We must come to admit that only within limits can machines take the place of slaves; beyond those limits they lead to a new kind of serfdom .... I have chosen 'convivial' as a technical term to designate a modern society of responsibly limited tools.

Finding a convivial approach to machines takes a bit of thought and experimentation. I wouldn't be without my powerful electric bandsaw which saves hours of laborious hand ripping and thicknessing of timber. This work would exhaust me, leaving little energy for the more contemplative and creative parts of the work. Intelligent use of the bandsaw saves a great deal of time and energy, while still necessitating me to accurately hand plane the timber to its final dimensions. This gives my clients the chance to own furniture that has that special live quality which you only find in hand-worked things.  At the same time it allows me to work through the application of skill while not being deafened by the noise, and choked by the dust, of a table saw or thicknesser.

Convivial working is a lot about finding a balance that works for us and our particular situation. Sometimes electrical assistance is a blessing. Sometimes pure handwork is best. Sometimes the right way lies somewhere in the middle. Cutting inlay without mechanical assistance is very slow, and inefficient. A bit of help is much appreciated. You can get electric scroll saws, which do a very good job, but I prefer my treadle-powered fretsaw. It's quiet and effective in use. It speeds up the process enormously, while still requiring lots of skill, coordination and judgment to get a good result.  It is a pleasure to look at, to listen to, and to be around. Perhaps it's not totally fanciful to think that this pleasure might find some expression in the quality of the work I do with it. I like to think so.

For me what matters is not whether a technique, tool or machine is modern or old-fashioned, or a mixture of the two. What matters is whether it allows for both efficiency and skilled, convivial work. My bandsaw is very modern with ceramic blade guides and a powerful, braked motor. I feel lucky to own such a machine. The fretsaw is close to a hundred years old and the technology is basic. Wisely used, both are appropriate technology - and have the potential to be used as "responsibly limited tools".

Sunday
21Jun2009

Freehand Honing

In his book "A Guide to Hand Tools and Methods" David Charlesworth writes:

I think that the scorn heaped upon honing guides is a lingering manifestation of the old protectionist attitude of skilled men - ' here's how I do it by hand, you are a miserable beginner and in about seven years you might get a decent result ... I find this attitude totally unacceptable. My students learn to produce a razor edge on day one with a honing guide.

I take issue with this. The ability to sharpen freehand has always been considered one of the basic requirements of a craftsperson's education, and for reasons which are a lot more sound than David's objections. Here is a selection of reasons why learning to hone freehand is worth the trouble:

  1. It builds confidence. If you are taught that freehand honing is so difficult to learn that it is better to rely on a guide, then you are likely to feel intimidated by other tasks which require similar levels of hand-eye coordination and manual skill. The result is a tendency to rely unnecessarily on jigs in other areas of your work too.  This give you fewer options to draw on, and therfore less flexibility and speed.
  2. Freehand honing increases the skill and sensitivity of ones hands and fingers.  It gives ongoing practice at judging and maintaining angles, applying and maintaining appropriate force, and integrating and coordinating different activities at the same time. It gives instant and unequivocal feedback as to your success or failure at doing these things.  This makes it a very efficient way to improve these essential skills - the same skills required in almost any hand work with timber.
  3. Without mastering the basic skill of honing a straight blade by hand you are going to struggle to cope with blades that have shaped profiles.  These cannot be honed with a guide. The confidence gained in honing without a guide will stand you in good stead when faced with unusual or one-off sharpening jobs. This greatly increases your options as a woodworker.
  4. Learning to hone without a guide helps to teach you patience and the discipline of practice.
  5. Once you have mastered it, honing freehand is a bit quicker than using a guide, and gives you one less item to buy and organise in the workshop.

Finally it is worth noting that of course learning to hone freehand takes nothing like the seven years David mentions. I find it generally takes half an hour or less to teach someone to achieve a razor sharp edge freehand.  Then a few mintues practice every day for a week or two consolidates the skill. Taking that time, and then continuing to refine and practice that process will amply repay you in skill, flexibility and enjoyment throughour your life as a craftsperson.

Wednesday
17Jun2009

Repairable Back Panels

If we want furniture to last we must make it repairable.  In fact reparability may be an even more important factor in the longevity of a piece of furniture than strength is.  We can make things very strong with the use of modern adhesives, but once they are glued together it is almost impossible to disassemble them without damage.  Once they start to deteriorate or break there is little we can do to correct matters.  Realising this I have started to use hide glue which, although little used in recent times, has the great virtue of being not only strong but also reversible.  With the application of heat and moisture the furniture can be disassembled at a later date in order to allow for repair and restoration.

Another construction method which is much underused in modern fine furniture making is good old fashioned nails.  These seem to be considered by some makers as a bit too agricultural for fine work, but to me this is over precious.  I have started to use pins alone to secure the back panels to my carcasses.  They are quite strong enough and, like hide glue, are easily reversible.  The small indent left after the nails are set can be filled with wax, and while perhaps not ideal on the front of a piece, can be left with honour on the back - an honest construction detail which need offend no one.