“This has been Uncle Sam’s Woodshop of the Air, transcribed in Washington, D.C., and I’m Calvin Cobb wishing that, as you slide down the banister of life — that all the splinters are going in your direction! So long!”
This past week I taught the first Moravian bench class of 2018 at Roy Underhill’s Woodwright’s School in Pittsboro, NC. This is the sixth year I have done the class at Roy’s; we have produced about 120 benches in that time.
Morning of the first day before the mayhem begins.
Over time, the class has changed and become more streamlined as my experience teaching it has increased. Of course, with each new group of students, there’s a different dynamic, even though we are building the same project. This keeps the class from ever becoming routine.
You never know what new layout method is going to turn up.
A first for this class was using a boring machine to hog out most of the waste from the long stretcher mortises. This was a huge improvement over a brace and bit.
Roy supervised the boring work.10 minuets later.
We had a young fella named J.D. Stevenson and his father stop in to observe the class for an afternoon. We promptly put him to work. He made us all look bad – he’s 13 years old.
“The Kid” J.D. Stevenson, paring a mortise.By the third day most everyone has good feel for the rip saw.George showing off.Some of Lake Erie Tool’s handiwork.
Ready for the vise.Katie using the 2 1/2″ auger.
As always, I never seem to get any pictures of the very end of the class. The last day is always a mad dash to get as far as possible!
A few years back, Christopher Schwarz taught a handful of what he affectionately calls “the baby anarchist’s tool chest class.” The premise was to help build the woodworking community by offering to young would-be hand-tool woodworkers a low-cost class to jump-start their skills. These classes involved an intensive week of tuning up old tools, then learning to wield them while building a simpler version of his “Anarchist’s Tool Chest” in which to keep them, and little sleep or showering (because: camping).
Since Chris has stepped back from teaching, Mike Siemsen has taken up the baby anarchist baton, and is (for I think the third year) offering much the same at his Minnesota school. The 2018 “Hand Tool Immersion 101” class is May 7-11, and costs $650 (materials included). Mike is offering free camping and communal dinner prep on site. And bathrooms and showers. Because Mike spoils his students.
This year is shaping up to be a busy one. Several classes are already full. If you are interested in those classes, be sure to join the wait list. Here is the lineup as it stands now!
Several weeks ago I received the image above via text message from Megan Fitzpatrick. Just the picture. No accompanying words.
I knew immediately that she was copy-editing the book I’d written about English Arts and Crafts furniture.
“Trust Megan to find one of those,” I thought with a pang of guilt.
Find one of what? you ask. A Stonehenge-themed key fob.
***
A couple of years ago, Megan gave her colleague Scott Francis my name. Scott was the books editor at Popular Woodworking, and he was looking for someone to write a book about English Arts and Crafts furniture. He called me. I was certainly interested; by that time I had done a fair bit of research on one particular English maker of Arts and Crafts pieces, and my enthusiasm for the Arts and Crafts movement went back many years. Writing the book would also give me an opportunity to build some exciting work in the shop.
If I was going to write a book about English Arts and Crafts furniture, I sure as heck was not about to regurgitate what everyone else and his brother or sister have written about the movement, most often from a superficial perspective. We’re all familiar with the typical formulation:
Ruthless exploitation of workers by industry + essential William Morris quote “Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful” = The Arts and Crafts Movement.
I wanted to go deeper. Fortunately for me, Scott and Megan approved my proposal.
I dug out my 1985 Penguin Classics edition of John Ruskin’s Unto This Last and Other Writings, one particular section of which, the essay on “Moral Elements of Gothic,” had been simmering in my consciousness for approximately 25 years. Lovely stuff: a singeing take-down of Victorian industry and culture, in response to the countless hypocrisies of which Ruskin called for a renewed embrace of hardy medieval values.
And there was a bonus: Ruskin’s English differs so dramatically from that of our time as to constitute a semi-foreign language — one that happens to offer rich potential for humor in its translation into contemporary terms. I didn’t want to write an academic treatise likely to be read by three or four people. I wanted to speak to fellow woodworkers and those with a general interest in material culture, as well as the Arts and Crafts movement. So in writing the book I took every reasonable opportunity to indulge in the kind of humor I hoped would bring the content alive.
***
And now we return to that key fob.
I was on a tear, contrasting the way Brits just get on with life, surrounded by landscapes, art, and architecture formed by their ancestors over thousands of years, while we Americans feel the need to celebrate every minute of our own nation’s drop in the metaphorical bucket.
Drive southwest from London to Somerset and you’ll
glimpse an arrangement of large rocks surrounded by
scattered grazing sheep: Stonehenge. Today a small sign
indicates your entry into a UNESCO world heritage site
shortly before the stones come into view, but 35 years ago,
when I first drove down that road, there was no advance
notice. Unlike monuments of similar significance in the
United States, Stonehenge is not heralded by 20 miles of
billboards urging you to get stoned at the nearby truck
stop (blessedly, there seems to be no such establishment),
have lunch at the Bronze Age Bistro (ditto), or buy druid
fridge magnets and key fobs (these I don’t know about;
they may exist). The landmark is just there, on the horizon
to your right.
It was a throw-away line. A gag. But Megan is that kind of editor: She digs through the trash. Thanks to her curiosity and warped sense of humor, I now know that druid-related key fobs are a thing.–Nancy Hiller, author of Making Things Work
English Arts & Crafts Furniture: Projects & Techniques for the Modern Maker is due to be published in May by Popular Woodworking Books.
Contemporary druids celebrating at Stonehenge. Image: wikimedia commons