After a long dry spell (five months), we finally have two new products in our store that we have been working on for a long time (nine years on the saw sharpening book!).
“Set & File: A Practical Guide to Saw Sharpening” by Matt Cianci is in our warehouse and shipping. It is $32. If you buy it before July 1, you will receive a free pdf download of the book at checkout. This book shows you saw teeth like you’ve never seen them before: up close. Matt Cianci, a long-time saw doctor, has a practical way to teach saw sharpening that anyone can do (I watched teach this last weekend).
If you’ve ever been frustrated by old texts about saw sharpening, this book will set you straight (pun intended).
“Video: Build a Roman Workbench.” This video shows you how to build the most portable, compact, inexpensive and easy-to-use workbenches available. Made from about $45 in dimensional lumber and scraps, these benches allow you to make cabinets, chairs and tables while sitting down.
These benches are ideal for apartment woodworkers – or anyone who has limited shop space (the bench can double as a coffee table). It’s also ideal for woodworkers who travel, who like to work outside or have mobility issues.
The video is now $35 – a special introductory offer. After July 1, it will be $60. The video includes downloadable construction drawings and a packet of additional information on workholding.
Megan is finishing Matt Cianci’s book “Set & File: A Practical Guide to Saw Sharpening,” and I’m polishing “The American Peasant.” Both books will go to the printer within the month, and then we will turn to our next publishing projects.
Here’s what is coming up.
Megan is (still) working on her Dutch tool chest book, and she’ll also take the reins on Jim Tolpin and George Walker’s next book, “Good Eye.” Their early drafts have convinced me this will be their best book. For this book, George and Jim are deconstructing pieces of furniture to show their underlying patterns and language.
Also in the works: Kale and I just began filming a long-form video on building and using a Roman workbench.
And I will dive into the next issue of “The Stick Chair Journal.” I have been working on the second issue off and on, and I promise it will be out before the end of 2024. The delay on “The Stick Chair Journal” has not been due to a lack of enthusiasm. Quite the opposite. My list of stories for the second (and third) issues grows every week.
Mostly, I have been stalled by our 11-month-long restoration of the Anthe building, our new fulfillment center. Finally, work on the Anthe building is winding down. This week we’re repairing the basement stairs and waterproofing the second-floor doors over the loading dock. These little projects are much easier to tackle than say: pay for a new roof, sunlight, gutter and reconstruction of the rear masonry wall.
Aside from the Anthe building, one of the obstacles to the next issue of “The Stick Chair Journal” is which chair plan we will publish in issue two. I have seven designs I’ve been working on:
Comb-back with a plywood arm and comb Settle/Settee The Shortback Irish writing chair Peasant chair The Stout Lad chair (a chair for larger body types) Hobbit chair
I want to build them all. And given enough time, I will. Since writing “The Stick Chair Book” (a free download), I have been moving chair-by-chair to a particular chair form in my mind. The two chairs on my bench right now (shown above) are a significant step forward to that chair – both in form and the natural dye I’m cooking up.
Or maybe I’m just fooling myself and “that chair” will always be on the horizon.
Somehow the stunning mosaics unearthed at the Huqoq synagogue during the last 12 years have escaped my attention. Reader Richard Mahler pointed them out to me, and I have been thinking about them all week.
The mosaic I have been poring over is the one depicting the construction of the Tower of Babel. There are stoneworkers (yawn). A crane taking materials to the top (kinda yawn). A guy adzing a post (!). A guy planing on a bench (!!). Sawing boards Egyptian style (!!!). And a fight with mallets vs. a bowsaw (!!!!). And an interesting window.
There is some interesting woodworking stuff in these mosaics. Let’s start with the guys ripping a board that is standing upright.
The synagogue was built in the early 5th century (C.E.), and yet here we have two guys ripping a plank in a clearly ancient Egyptian style. The plank is vertical and secured in place at the ground, and the workers are sawing down with a wedge in place to help keep the kerf open.
Ancient Egyptian sawyers were depicted working exactly this way with one exception. The ancient Egyptians used a bronze saw – it looks like a Japanese saw. With the teeth set to only one side of the blade.
The Romans here use a frame saw. As far as we know the Romans and Greeks invented frame saws and handplanes. So this is a real interesting transitional scene.
Next we have a guy working the side of a plank with an adze. The post is vertical. Again this is something you see in ancient Egyptian imagery. Later, adzes were shown with longer handles with the work on the floor. Though the handheld adze used vertically still survives in some cultures to this day.
And the workbench. My immediate reaction was: Look at that low Roman workbench. But 2 seconds later my head said: But why is the worker standing up as he planes a board on it? Do we have a problem here because this is a pre-perspective image? (Yes.) But does that explain why he is standing up? (No.)
So we just have to accept that maybe we don’t know what the artist saw. The worker holds the board with his left hand as he planes with his right. There is no evidence of a planing stop.
And finally we have a nice window and a fight between two workers: one holding a bowsaw and the other holding a mallet. The story of the Tower of Babel is about humanity’s attempt to build a tower to heaven. God cursed the workers and made them speak different languages. Chaos ensued.
One amazing thing: Early black woodworker. The earliest image I know.
Second thing: My money is on the guy with a mallet.
“Ingenious Mechanicks” is my worst-selling book. Since it was released in 2016, we’ve sold about 4,000 copies. But I don’t care. That book changed my workshop life more than any other project I’ve been involved in.
Roman workbenches are insanely useful creatures. The only operations I don’t use them much for are dovetailing large casework and planing large tabletops. Otherwise, I can always find a way to hold my work and get the job done.
Since I built my first Roman bench, we’ve had one or two of them in the shop constantly. And when someone else is teaching in our bench room, I take a seat on the Roman bench and get to work on my personal stuff.
Last week, I built a stick chair plus the base of a dining table on my Roman bench while Megan Fitzpatrick taught a tool chest class.
Most of the work is secured by my body or by pressing it against the Hulot block at one end of the bench. Or I pressed the work into one of the holdfast holes in the bench with one hand and planed the stock with the other hand.
For complex shaping operations, I used my carver’s vise to hold the odd pieces then could freely plane, rasp and scrape my work. Carving the legs of the dining table was easy with my body holding the work against the benchtop (though I wish I had more padding in my rear end for this job).
One thing I cannot overstate is how much energy you save while using these benches. Sitting down and working allows me to work longer hours, and I’m less whupped at the end of the day.
Heck, you don’t even really need to build a Roman bench using the plans from my book. This bench is a sitting bench from Skansen I made years ago. Then I made a few holes in it. Any sitting bench will do.
If you have limited mobility, or you have a tiny shop space, limited funds for a bench or you work in the living room, a Roman workbench is a good thing.
The following is excerpted from “Ingenious Mechanicks,” by Christopher Schwarz. This book is a journey into the past. It takes the reader from Pompeii, which features the oldest image of a Western bench, to a Roman fort in Germany to inspect the oldest surviving workbench, and finally to Christopher’s shop in Covington, where he recreated three historical workbenches and dozens of early jigs. This specific excerpt is by Suzanne Ellison who is a regular poster for Lost Art Press and did historical research for the book.
It is not surprising to see low Roman workbenches in Italy or any of the former Roman provinces. By mapping our bench discoveries, we found a strong relationship to locations along the Roman roads and trade routes that continued into the early decades of the 18th century.
After mapping the Spanish workbenches, I put an overlay of the Roman roads of Hispania and found, with a few exceptions, the plot points fell along or very near the Via Augusta (formerly the Via Herculea). Via Augusta, one of the major commercial Roman roads, ran along the Mediterranean coast from the Pyrenees in the northeast, through Valencia, diverted inland to Seville and ended back on the coast at Cadiz. Eight workbenches fall along the Via Augusta, with six benches from Valencia and Seville.
Of the 38 low, Roman-type workbenches we espied, we found 21 benches (or 55 percent) that date from the first decade of the 16th century to the end of the 18th century. You can thank St. Joseph for that. Thirteen benches were in paintings from Italy and eight from Spain. But wait, the Kingdom of Naples was part of the Spanish Empire for most of the 1442 to 1714 time period. We have cross-pollination! For instance, Jose de Ribera, a major artist from Valencia, completed his mature work in Naples. Luca Giordano, from Naples, spent a decade in Madrid as court painter for Charles II. Adjusting the numbers results in almost a 50-50 split, with 10 benches for Italy and 11 for Spain.
Some features of the low Italian and Spanish workbenches are a massive top with or without a face vise, a twin-screw vise, an early crochet (possibly the earliest depiction so far) and unusual planing stops. Oh yes, two benches with squared-off notches on the bench ends also turned up in our searches. One of the benches would help solve those mysterious notches on the 2nd-century Roman workbench from Saalburg.
The Mystery of the Notches
Beginning with the extant Saalburg workbench, we found seven benches with notches on the side or end of the benchtop. The Saalburg bench and three 16th-century benches have a fairly close regional distribution, while the examples with a notch in the bench ends are from Italy and Spain. The seventh bench has a side notch and originates from the New Kingdom of Granada in present-day Colombia.
The three 16th-century notched benches are from Memmingen (“Holy Family” by Bernhard Strigel), Nürnberg (Löffelholz bench) in southwest Germany and Bolzano (the Hans Kipferle panel) in northern Italy. The German benches are both dated 1505 and the Italian bench is dated 1561. When these benches are mapped along with the Saalburg bench, possible connections start to emerge. The Via Claudia Augusta, the Roman road that connected the Po River valley with the Raetia province (southern Germany), ran through Bolzano and across the Alps (it is a different road than Via Augusta). The road terminated at the capital of Raetia, Augusta Vindelicorum (present-day Augsburg). A branch off Via Claudia Augusta leads to the Roman city that became Kempten, just south of Memmingen.
Through the Middle Ages, the two main routes to cross the Alps converged in Bolzano and led to Augsburg: the Via Claudia Augusta through the Reschenpass and the Brenner route through the Brenner Pass. East-west Roman roads through Augsburg later also became important trade routes, turning the city into a commercial center. Similarly, Nürnberg benefited from the northsouth trade route it shared with Augsburg. The route was a portion of the Amber Road that linked southern Italy with the north and Baltic Seas. Trade routes were also information routes for cultures and technology. In the 15th and 16th centuries, this part of the former Roman Empire (and later Holy Roman Empire) experienced a cultural flowering. Considering the lengthy Roman presence in this region and the continued use of the trade routes, it is possible the side-notch feature survived and was in use on woodworking benches until at least the mid-16th century.
The two end notches were in paintings from Ravenna, Italy, and Madrid, Spain. The Madrid painting, “Dream of Saint Joseph,” by Luca Giordano, shows a wedge in the notch and was a key to solving the “Saalburg mystery.” I found the image in mid-July and sent it with a few dozen other images to Chris. About a month later while verifying dates, titles, artists and locations of all the paintings I gave “The Dream” a closer look. St. Joseph’s side of the painting has an appealing composition with tremendous detail. One tremendous detail struck me in particular and that evening I emailed Chris asking if he had seen this detail before. The next morning he answered, and you can read about how the notches and wedges work in Chapter 5.
The last bench is from the New World when Colombia was a Spanish colony. The notch is sharply defined and dovetail-shaped. The email I sent to Chris with the image was titled, “Oh Look! What is that Notch in the Bench?” and two minutes later Chris’ response was a joyful expletive.