The Best Tools

“The wind that bends the bunchgrass there scrubs away at epitaphs; someday the stones will all be smooth. If there is tragedy here, it is in the loss of stories. Their stories could have brought them back. Stories outshine instruments of gold. Stories outlast stone.”

- Ralph Beer

This saw handle has a story. If you look closely, beneath the dirty varnish you can see (and feel) the imprint of a masters finger. On one side is the dished impression left by his index finger, the other side clearly shows the trail left by his thumb. It’s stunning to think how many miles of lumber this blade parted. Take a closer look and notice the handle is rosewood. So much for all those experts who claim the “real” workers didn’t spend the extra buck on the fancy tools.

When I grip this saw tote, it's like reaching across time and shaking hands with a master.

Anthropologists make a big deal about man the toolmaker,  something that sets us apart. In reality, the animal kingdom is filled with creatures that use tools and natural materials to their benefit. Otters use stones as hammers and birds fashion condos from mud and twigs. But man takes tools to another level. We have the ability to make a tool an extension of our hand and mind. I recently had a chance to spend a little time with Chris Schwarz in his wood shop. He held a mallet in his hand and shared how the tools we use the most – our favorite tools,  seem to get better over time. Almost as though the iron in a favorite plane takes a keener edge or that peening hammer strikes with a sweetness we can’t explain. Musicians often say the same thing about a guitar or violin. Do they really change and get better? This I know. Our tools become an extension of our hands and in doing so become a part of us.

Working on the furniture design book project (By Hand & Eye)with Jim Tolpin, something just as profound began to dawn on both of us. As we dove deep into the design language from our woodworking tradition, we both began to realize that this knowledge is intertwined with the traditional tool set and skill set, and much like that favorite plane quickly becomes intuitive. It has the potential to become an extension of our hands, something Jim calls “design at the point of a tool”. Perhaps you’ve had the simple joy of using a tool till it became a part of you. Could you imagine that your ability to design could occupy that same familiar place along side your favorite chisel or marking knife? Would you like to go there?

George Walker

By Hand and Eye

Public Domain image

The manuscript for the furniture design book with Lost Art Press is on the cutting floor. That means it’s largely written and we (Jim Tolpin and yours truly) are going back through it with a hatchet to hack out brush without mercy.  Brush may be too harsh a term. It’s more like sifting out the good, so the best can sparkle. Gone in the trash can is our original idea for the title “Divide and Conquer”. It sounded great over beer but as the work took shape we both began to see it in a different light. As we plunged deeper into the design language of the pre-industrial artisan, some themes emerged. Traditional design has a craft element to it. By craft I mean something other than sharpening and joinery skills. Artisans became fluent in simple geometry to make quick accurate layouts, and acquired a deep knowledge about proportions that informed their work. The result of mastering this craft is that design becomes intuitive and the creative process moves closer to the workbench, often played out right at the point of a tool.   Perhaps another way to say it is that this craft knowledge allowed artisans to trust their gut. By that I don’t mean guessing, but making informed decisions based on a solid knowledge base.  The title “By Hand and Eye” speaks to this approach of intuitive design based on skill. What’s really exciting is that this isn’t nostalgia, it’s timeless knowledge that will inspire and empower the modern woodworker.

At the beginning of this project both Jim and I knew that writing this book would be a great learning adventure and we were not disappointed. Our research took us into the world of renaissance violin makers from Italy, Greek sculptors from the golden age, all the way to aviation pioneers from the dawn of the era of flight. You don’t need to tackle luthery to design furniture, but so many concepts overlap and confirm the tradition.

Case in point. On this artist’s study of the human arm, note the small flats where large muscle groups are attached at joints. These were referred to as points of rest and this small detail gives the composition spring.  Note the positioning of fillets or small beads on a complex moulding. These small flats echo those points of rest. Remove them and the composition seems cartoonish.  Tons more to share as much of what gets trimmed on the cutting floor will end up on this Design Matters blog.

George R. Walker

Design Critique Feb 2012

Adrian Mariano submitted these drawings and comments about a design for a small table. As always with these requests for feedback, make sure your feedback both positive and negative include some insight into your thinking. It’s also fine to offer questions to help Adrian think through this or see it in a new light.  

The following are Adrian’s thoughts:

I’m designing a table to use for game playing in front of a sofa.  I
have a nice piece of claro walnut (30″x60″) to use for the tabletop
and was thinking about (but am not committed to) mahogany for the
base.  I built up a design based on a variety of pratical
considerations (and we’ve been using a prototype piece of plywood on
boxes).  So for example, I placed 5″ above the floor to allow room to
clean under the table (rather than using some system like integer
proportions).  The height is around 24″ because that makes it possible
to sit with legs under the tabletop.  I have the apron set back 6″
from the front and 9″ from the ends to allow room for this.  I wanted
drawers 4″ high to allow card games to be stored on edge.  Because of
the large overhang, it doesn’t make sense to put drawers under the
top, as is common, so I started with the idea of drawers under the
shelf along the front.

But then I thought that drawers along the front down low would hit the
sofa when opened.  So I moved the drawers to the end.  With the
drawers on the end I wanted to have a place for pens and paper that
was easier to reach from the sofa (and there is some space), so I
added little drawers to the front.  The result is a design based
entirely on my best interpretations of the practical considerations
rather than with design thinking, and I think it looks kind of funny.
So I’m wondering why it looks funny.  Is there something fundamentally
weird about my design?  Does it need to be “fixed” somehow?  It seems
like the small drawers floating in the large apron may be the reason
for the strange look.  (I think my early design with three drawers
under the apron looks more “normal”.)

Why Beauty Matters

C. S. Lewis wrote that if science could learn every fact in the universe, it still couldn’t answer the question – Why? Or the question - What does it all mean? He wasn’t attacking science, but pointing out that not everything yeilds to the microscope. Iv’e attached a link to a BBC documentary on beauty, by Roger Scruton. He askes some difficult questions about beauty and the part it plays in our culture and humanity. He also has some pointed remarks that relate to craft and design. It’s the best treatment of the subject Iv’e seen. Be advised, some of this material may offend, though I think the folks offended most, will be those who take pleasure in besmirking our cultural traditions.

Why Beauty Matters

George Walker

Design at the Point of a Tool

The February issue of Popular Woodworking Magazine prompted a woodworker to ask if I could give a little detail about the tool rack lurking in the background. Actually this plain but very functional tool storage rack was an early exercise in working with simple proportions right at the bench. Something Jim Tolpin and I are calling “Design at the Point of a Tool”. Essentially it’s bringing the basic knowledge of proportions and simple geometry right to the work itself, sidestepping the need for drawings or even a ruler. Dividers, a marking knife and a square are all that’s required. I built this five years ago basically as an exercise to push me out of my comfort zone. I intentionally put away my tape measure, and just relied on simple proportions to guide the actual build. My requirements were straight forward, I wanted a flexible storage rack for frequently used bench tools,  just one step away from my workbench. It’s made from 1 X 12 pine and a few scraps. The overall form is just a simple rectangle that is 3 parts wide by 5 parts high. To this day I don’t know the dimensions in inches, they don’t matter. To establish the envelope for the  lower section containing the cubbyholes I went up two parts from the bottom. This makes the bottom section to the top a ratio of 2:3. The cubbies themselves I sized around the tools that I store. The whole upper section  tilts back slightly. It acts like sort of like a pegboard (except not as butt ugly).  I simply tap in a wooden peg or nail on a piece of scrap to keep order. I’ve changed the configuration several times as tools change.  Here’s a detail of some cleats I use to insure a plane doesn’t tumble off.

Cleats to keep planes from accidently tipping

side veiw

Although this isn’t some earth shattering design, it confirmed there’s something  liberating about actually designing and building right at the bench.

George R. Walker

Off Road Woodworking

             

Admit it. We all have those tools that we don’t use as much as we’d like because they’re a pain to sharpen. Mostly they fall in the category of what I call off road tools. They tend to have curved or odd shaped cutters that require a combination of voodoo, marvel mystery oil, and luck to achieve good cutting geometry. Off road, because they open up possibilities beyond the standard straight and square joinery. I can usually fumble through a sharpening routine on just about any cutting tool but not with the ease of  a straight plane iron. So the downward cycle goes something like this. The tools I don’t use often, I sharpen on an “as needed” basis. Because they’re not sharp and ready for use, I tend to not reach for them. 

 Thankfully, my son Josh gave me a DVD for Christmas by Larry Williams from Old Street Tools,  Sharpening Profiled Hand Tools.

Larry shares some practical and simple methods to sharpen a variety of edge tools: hollows and rounds, carving gouges, cambering a jack plane iron, complex moulding planes, snipes bill planes, beading planes, V carving tool, and a moving fillister. For each tool he shows the method for completely re-profiling the blade and bringing it to a finished honed edge. He even shows how to normalize (soften) a blade, reshape it with a file, and re-harden it. Granted, I don’t expect to have to perform surgery on every tool, but it’s great to get some sound information in the event it’s needed. Larry also does several things I really appreciate. For each tool he points out the critical details inherent to that type of blade, like the side clearance angles on the filister. Often when I’m fumbling with a tool tune up, it’s one of those small details at the source of it. He also gives a short demo of how the sharpened tool should cut, not on mild pine but on what looks to be tough cherry. No excuses now, get Larry’s DVD, sharpen up all those ornery devils and turn off the paved highway.

George

Apprentice Sketchbook December 2011

Carving detail on gate, Thuya Garden

Three months ago when I hit the send button to submit the December installment of my Design Matters column in Popular Woodworking Magazine, I did so with a bit of trepidation. The article, “Why Design”, is something of a departure. It focuses on the why we do this, versus the how to. I was half expecting an awkward phone call from Megan Fitzpatrick about the thin branch I’d crawled onto. Instead I was heartened to see in the October issue the sensitive and heartfelt piece by Toshio Odate, “A Teacup & 8 Dinner Plates”. It’s obvious the folks making editorial decisions view readers not as a woodworking consumer group, but rather fellow artisans passionate about the craft. My hat’s off to them.

            Even seeing it in print I still wrestle. My wife Barb said something so profound the other day I had to pull the truck over and write it down.

 “Whenever we use words to describe something we feel deeply about, we always diminish it”

I suppose that’s why we turn to painting or sculpture to express what words cannot.

So here I am, the inept biped trying to put into words that unexplainable thirst to design. How do you explain something that plunges you so supremely into the moment that time seems to stand still? How can you explain what it’s like to have your brain, hands, and eyes step you through a dance you could not have imagined? So forgive me if I fall short on the December article, I’m motivated by a bigger vision. As Jim Tolpin and I forge ahead on the design book project, some ideas are taking shape about design and how it relates to the craft going forward. It’s about creating something of a folk movement of woodworkers embracing design. Not about who will be the next Maloof or Krenov, but rather a much larger body of woodworkers embracing the craft, creating honest furniture because we love it.

This apprentice sketchbook segment is a simple method for scaling an object up or down just using a compass and straight edge. Start by drawing a line and marking off the actual height of the object you want to model from. In this case the height is the distance from F (fulcrum) to A. Leave the compass set to that original height and strike an arc from A upwards. Now use dividers to divide that overall height by the amount you want to scale it down. For this example I wanted to scale it in half so I simply adjusted the dividers until they bisected F A. Use that setting and using A as the fulcrum strike a second arc (dotted line). Use a straightedge to connect F B. From here you can pluck any vertical height from your original and strike an arc from F. The chord between the two lines will be scaled proportionally and will correspond to the height of that part on the smaller version.  

George R. Walker

Design Critique Nov 2011

Chuck Curtis submitted a few drawings of a desk/table he is designing and requesting some feedback. I have to comment that I get a great deal out of your collective feedback myself. Often I hold back my initial thoughts only to see one of you echo what I’m thinking, often with additional insight. The following comments are from Chuck.  

I am in the process of designing a desk/table for use in a home
office.  I want the work surface to be low enough that it is
comfortable to type on, which limits the space for drawers under the
work surface.  I am currently planning on constructing it out of red
oak, but staining the wood dark (I have a ton of red oak on hand – so
it is easier/cheaper to use the oak and stain than get a dark wood).
I have attached prints from SketchUp, but would love some input on the
design – or suggestions for more/fewer details.  For a size scale, the
top is 60″ wide by 37″ deep, and the legs are 3″ square.  Since this
is for my own use, there are very little design constraints – but it
is to be a functional piece of furniture first.

Proportions add life to a design

Gaining fresh new insights working on the upcoming Lost Art Press book on design. As often happens when teaching or writing, the process forces you to flip over more stones in the creek bottom to see what might scurry out. I’ve been taken again by the power of proportions to bring a life like essence, or to put it another way, make things believable to our eye. I started this journey years ago looking for some magic bullet or formula that might shed light on this most elusive and shy aspect of the craft . Mostly I found more questions than answers. Like how did pre-industrial artisans work to a level of accuracy that boggles the imagination? This is more pointed when you consider the measuring tools frequently seen in historic tool kits.

A different way to work where dimensions took a back seat

Photo by Lie-Nielsen Toolworks

This 19^th century wooden square has a hand marked scale in ¼” increments. It’s not uncommon to find similar shop or blacksmith made rules with crude Fred Flintstone like markings. My background is in precision metalworking (think millionths of an inch) and for the longest time my brain could not reconcile the work with the tools. And how did they build oceans of furniture largely without measured drawings? Those questions drove me deeper into the craft and its design language and tradition. It might as well be a whole other world where the sky’s a different color, the contrasts are that sharp. Those crappy rulers worked just fine because aside from the bad lighting, dimensions took a back seat to proportions and fit. The size of one part was based not on a specification from a print or cut list, but how it related proportionally to the parts around it and to the whole form. Would the fingers on your hand look believable to your eye if they all were the same length? The word creepy comes to mind. Yet those artisans worked intuitively with proportions much like a chef builds flavor in a kettle of stew with seasonings and spices. Beyond that, they spoke a design language that with some practice can be visualized with clear spatial images on the blackboard in our mind. This is exciting stuff.

George R. Walker

Right up to the edge

Just back  from a week in the Northwest with Jim Tolpin working on our upcoming book on furniture design. I was reminded while eating some amazing king salmon why I never order seafood back home. In the midwest we’ve got pork nailed, but nothing  this delicious was ever swam in the Ohio River. Jim and I managed to get the book outlined, but beyond that revelled in those magical moments when creative ideas flowed in a torrent. Our challenge is to bring that creative excitement right into your woodshop. We are convinced every artisan possesses untapped design skills and our debate was just  how we can help unlock that potential. The week capped off with a design workshop at the Port Townsend School of Woodworking.

Every woodworking class I’ve been involved in always reaches a point where it veers right up to the edge of a cliff. I remember teaching my first class on tall clocks and feeling the tension build as 15 students prepped their clock cases for glue up. A mad dash for every available clamp, and then that moment of apprehension when there’s no turning back.

This design class was no exception.  Everything  moved along fine until I decided to take a chance and throw a challenge at these budding artisan designers. Now mind you, just 24 hours before we were fumbling  just  drawing some simple circles and rectangles, when I get the bright idea to take a detour into a Doric classic order. Learning to draw the classic orders was design 101 for the pre-industrial artisan, but I’d never actually guided a dozen woodworkers through this tightly knitted design standard. If you are not familiar with the orders, they are a highly refined stylized form used in ancient architecture. From a design standpoint you might think of drawing them as an exercise in achieving perfect pitch.

Doric Classic order

Half way through, I began to have doubts. It forces quite a mind shift from a proportional veiw and it’s compounded by the fact that all the parts have names foreign to modern ears.

A hand goes up, “George, you lost me on that last step. How did you get the height of that thing above the doodad?”

I tried to ignore the puzzled looks, and sideways glances, ”No problem, that thing’s called an architrave, and it sits on this doodad better known as a capital. Just divide the space above the capital by four.”

Somehow I hoped that students would see the simple weaving of proportions appearing quietly beneath their pencils. We finished the exercise and I dismissed the group for a short break in the fresh air. They scurried, out looking like they badly needed a smoke, while I kicked myself for pushing too far, too fast.

Back in session I asked everyone to pull out their sketchpads and work up a design for a writing desk. As their ideas took shape my excitement grew. Never doubt that a woodworker will surprise you in a good way. They got it! During the ensuing critique they spoke with a confidence absent just a day before. They explained their designs in proportional terms and questions were not about matters of taste but about, form and proportions. They took a leap into the unknown and it was marvelously obvious the underpinnings were holding. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

You can follow this link to a slide show of the class at the Port Townsend School of Woodworking.