Before I took apart my traveling tool chest today for painting, I installed the crab lock that blacksmith Peter Ross made for me.
It’s a surface lock, which is mounted to the front inside wall of the chest with five screws. It might just be the easiest lock to install – there’s just a small mortise needed on the chest’s rim and the keyhole. Peter is making an escutcheon plate for me now, which will go on after the paint.
The workmanship on the lock is, of course, first rate. Peter is still working out the details on pricing, so if you are interesting in getting crabs for your chest, drop him a line.
There are only a few times that I want to throw myself off a bridge. Here is the No. 1 thing that has made me crazy during the last 20 years of writing, teaching and doing woodworking.
A guy calls me and starts asking questions – detailed questions – about the tools he needs to get started in the craft. I answer his questions, which take (sometimes) hours to thoroughly answer. He comes back with more questions. I answer. Questions. Answers. On and on.
He then asks me how best to sell all his woodworking gear because now he is deep into golf, guitars or cars.
This has happened dozens of times to me.
I’m not trying to poop on people who obsess only about the tools of our craft. OK, I am. The tools are secondary. Heck, that’s not even right. They are tertiary to the things we build and the materials we use.
Yes, it’s OK to get obsessed with the tools. But get over that – quickly – and move on.
Yes, it’s OK to get obsessed with the material. Again, get over that and move on.
After 20 years of building stuff, I am singularly obsessed with the skills. I get the material. I get the tools. But there is no end to the skills you can acquire to apply the tools to the material to produce something really beautiful. Something with grace, which transcends both the materials and the simple tools you used. Something that transcends even you.
When I teach woodworking classes, I often talk about the “signal to noise” ratio in the writings about woodworking. Almost everything – even what I write – is almost pure noise. Let’s compare this tool to that tool. This sharpening process to that. Diamonds to waterstones. Yawn.
Signal is rare.
Signal is about what people cannot describe easily in words, photos or video. Signal is the way we move our hands that is different from the way that less-experienced people move their hands.
Signal is that small bit of information you personally rescue from the cacophony of drivel.
— Christopher Schwarz, who is done dispensing drivel for the day.