The unused edges of a sharpening stone are a great place to do the dirty work of rounding the corners of the iron.
The following is excerpted from “Sharpen This,” by Christopher Schwarz. I chose this section because I get asked more about smoothing planes – specifically why they leave plane tracks – than anything else sharpening-related in my classes. I’d say that 80 percent of the time, the “problem” is a blade that has no camber. Here’s how to put one on the blades for a smoothing plane and jointer plane (a shallow curve).
– Fitz
The blades for my smoothing plane, jointer plane and block plane have slightly curved edges so that the corners of the iron do not dig into the wood and create “plane tracks.” Plane tracks are the ugly ridges left behind by the cutter’s corners.
To create a slight curve, begin with a blade that has been ground straight across. The curve is generated on the honing and polishing stones.
The first step is to round over the corners of your blade. I do this on the edges of my honing stone. Why the edges? Because this process cuts a deep gouge in the stone, so the stone’s edges are a good place for it.
For most plane irons, I divide them into five stations. Narrow blades (such as block plane blades) have three stations.
The result is that the corners are rounded over with a small radius – about 1/16″ radius. Now install the blade in your honing guide. To create the curve for the first time on a straight edge, mentally divide the edge into five “stations” along the tool’s edge. One station is in the middle of the edge. One at each corner. And two more between those points.
With the tool on your honing stone, put firm finger pressure on one of the corner stations and take 12 strokes. Then put firm finger pressure on the opposite corner station and take 12 strokes. Now put your finger pressure on one of the intermediate stations and take six strokes. Switch to the other intermediate station and take six more. Finally, put your finger pressure on the center station and take two strokes.
Remove the tool from the honing stone and check for a burr. If you have a burr, hold the tool up in front of your face with a strong backlight. Place a small straightedge on the tip of the edge to see if the edge is curved. If you cannot see a curve, there’s a fair chance your stone isn’t flat; it’s convex across its width. Flatten the stone (see Chapter 9) and try again.
The curve on a No. 3 smoothing plane. In short order you will get a feel for how much curve each tool requires.
How much of a curve should there be? It depends on the width of the iron and the angle at which the iron is bedded. If you see a curve, continue onto polishing.
Put the tool to use and see if the curve is working (meaning there are no ugly plane tracks). If the curve is too shallow (plane tracks, argh), hone the iron with more pressure at the corners to increase the curve. If the curve is too pronounced (where the iron will take only a narrow, thick shaving in the middle) then hone again with more pressure at the center station.
The curve on a No. 8 jointer plane. Aggressive handplanes require more curve.
For freehand sharpening of curved blades, I press one corner of the bevel to the stone. Then I raise the back end of the tool 1/8″. As I pull the tool toward me, I also shift the pressure on the bevel to the center of the edge and then to the other corner.
The interior of the upper bay of my Dutch tool chest…before it got beat-up from heavy use. I appear to have it stocked it for (surprise!) a class that involves dovetails.
I’m not sure yet how I’m getting there, but I’ll be in Tampa, Florida, Oct. 10-14, at the Florida School of Woodwork, teaching folks how to build a Dutch tool chest, soup to nut. Because it’s a week-long class, we should have time to not only install the hardware, but to fit out the interior (as shown above) and get the chests painted!
Andrew is prepping the pine for us now, and will then turn his attention to the battens (oak) and the interior bits (cherry).
There are a few spaces left – and I’d love to see you there…even if you choose to paint yours a color other than blue. (But I can’t imagine why you would!)
The exterior of mine – in its former pristine state.
And on my getting there: It’s always a series of mental gymnastics for me. If I fly, I can get there in about 5 hours door to door (including time spent getting to and milling around the airport). But it means I have to judiciously decide then pack my tools in a small Pelican case, and pray they make it with no damage (and with one exception in 15 years, they have). But I can’t bring my tool chest – and in thi case, it’s the very chest we’re making. If I drive, it’s about 13 hours door to door, and my back will hate me. But I’ll be able to bring everything I could possibly need – including the chest. And either way, I’ll miss cat.
– Fitz
p.s. Now that “Workshop Wound Care” is at the printer – and I’ve finally finished my last issue of The Chronicle for the Early American Industries Association – I can now concentrate (almost) fully on getting my Dutch tool chest book. (Ya know, along with editing whatever comes in next at LAP, writing blog entries, working on my house, making furniture etc.)
The following is excerpted from “The Anarchist’s Design Book,” by Christopher Schwarz – it’s a short sidebar from the chapter on building a staked sawbench (the sawbench, which also works as a stool, is more than a handy shop accessory; it’s a great introduction to making staked furniture of all sorts, including chairs).
There are historic furniture forms out there that have been around for almost 1,000 years that don’t get written about much. They are simple to make. They have clean lines. And they can be shockingly modern. This book explores 18 of these forms – a bed, dining tables, chairs, chests, desks, shelving, stools – and offers a deep exploration into the two construction techniques used to make these pieces that have been forgotten, neglected or rejected.
You can build an entire houseful of furniture using these two methods – what we call “staked” and ”boarded” furniture. They are shockingly simple for the beginner. They don’t require a lot of tools. And they produce objects that have endured centuries of hard use.
But this isn’t really a book of plans. “The Anarchist’s Design Book” shows you the overarching patterns behind these 18 pieces. It gives you the road map for designing your own pieces. (Which is what we did before we had plans.)
(left) The first leg vise. One knee presses the work down. The other restrains the work from rotating. (right) Ripping. This is an effective way to rip, but it does make my back sore.
Once you own a pair of sawbenches you will wonder how you worked without them. Even if you don’t do much work with handsaws, sawbenches are handy platforms for projects in progress, stacking parts and sitting on while you work.
But most people use them for handsaw work. Here are some tips on sawing with them. If your sawbenches are different heights (even slightly) then work on the tall one and use the shorter one to support your work. If you work on the shorter one, your saw will constantly get pinched in its kerf.
When crosscutting on a sawbench, your legs are the clamps. Bend your off leg and rest it on top of the work on the sawbench. Pull your dominant leg up to contact the work (if possible) so the work presses against your leg.
Now you can saw the piece and it will remain stable. Your off leg supplies the downward pressure. Your dominant leg prevents the work from sliding laterally as you saw toward yourself.
I’m not a fan of ripping on sawbenches. I prefer to rip at the bench. If you do need to make long rips on the sawbench, I find it best to have three sawbenches: one to work on that is between a second that is infeed support and a third that is outfeed support.
Overhand rip. I prefer to rip at the bench with the work secured like this or with it parallel to the benchtop – with the waste hanging off the front edge.
One style of French ripping has the worker sitting on the work on the sawbench. Note that the saw’s teeth are pointed away from the operator.
I use my sawbenches for many other operations. One of my favorites: I place an assembled carcase on two sawbenches and brace the carcase against the workbench. I can then easily plane the carcase to level its dovetail joints or whatever is sticking up. Or, if that doesn’t quite work, the sawbench can be a spacer between the carcase and the bench.
A good stand-off. Here my sawbench allows me to plane a carcase component without the plane ramming into the workbench.
Every time we get questions about our setting jigs, I joke that I’m going to start making them to sell. Had I done it years ago, I could probably now afford that paint job my house needs…or at least afford some fancy cat treats!
The questions have ticked up recently, due to the publication Christopher Schwarz’s book “Sharpen This.” But I still can’t bring myself to make these jigs, ’cause it’s so easy to make your own. But also because different honing guides require different placement of the blocks (it has to do with how far the blade projects)… and I don’t have time to make these for every guide out there. So here’s how to make the one we use, for our Lie-Nielsen honing guides:
Screw two pieces of ultra-high molecular weight polyethylene (UHMW) to a block of plywood. Done. No magnets. No magic.
OK, OK…here are a few more particulars:
The 1/2″-thick plywood block is 4-1/4″ long x 2-1/8″ wide. (Other sizes would work.) We like plywood because it is unlikely to warp as much as solid wood.
The 1/4″-thick UHWM plastic is left over from another project – but it’s the perfect thing for this. It doesn’t get munged up as easily as a block of wood when you register a blade against it, so it lasts a lot longer. The two little blocks of UHWM are 1″ wide x 1-1/8″ long.
The plastic is screwed in place with brass screws, because they won’t rust.
The 35° block is 7/8″ from the front edge; the 30° block is 1-5/32″ from the front edge.
Those are the only two angles at which we hone/polish 99 percent of our edge tools (and really, we mostly use only the 35°). But if you want a lot of angle choices on your jig, Lie-Nielsen Toolworks has a free download for a fancy one. But we don’t do fancy when it comes to tool sharpening – ’cause making them dull is a lot more fun.
To use it, register the blade against the block, then tighten the jig. Easy, fast, repeatable.
But what if you don’t have a Lie-Nielsen honing guide, or you want different angles? Well, you’ll just have to figure out the proper projection to get the setting block in the right place. Here are two ways to do that.
Put a blade in your guide, then put a Tilt Box on the blade and register the bevel against a flat surface. Adjust the guide until the readout matches your goal angle. Tighten the guide, then measure the distance from the body of the guide to the end of the blade. That’s the distance from the guide’s body the setting block should be secured to the setting jig’s base.
The Tilt Box II in use.
Or put a blade in your guide and register the existing bevel against a flat surface. Put a protractor upright on that same flat surface. Align the business end of the blade with the center of a protractor (make sure the 0° on said protractor is on the edge – they aren’t all). Adjust the guide until the angle matches the one you want.
The following is excerpted from “With All the Precision Possible: Roubo on Furniture,” by André-Jacob Roubo, translated by Don Williams, Michele Pietryka-Pagán and Philippe Lafargue. In addition to the translated text and images from the original 18th-centry masterpiece, “With All the Precision Possible: Roubo on Furniture” also includes five contemporary essays on Roubo’s writing by craftsmen Christopher Schwarz, Don Williams, Michael Mascelli, Philippe Lafargue and Jonathan Thornton.
After you have determined the measurements of the work that you wish to make, you draw it on a straight and uniform board. This is what woodworkers call marking the work on the plan. In general, they call the plan all the cuts of the work both in height and width, which represent the shapes [profiles] of all the parts that make it up, or to speak more intelligibly, represent the shape of the wood, its thickness and its width. [It is essentially a layout and cutting list.]
Before beginning to draw the work on the plan, one must determine the width of the sides, the thickness of the wood, the width and the form of the contours, which you do on paper so as to master all the changes or other additions that you judge appropriate. [The implication is clearly that at least some portion of the drawing is at full scale.] This is much better than designing the shapes [profiles] on the plan, because not only are they never as good as on the paper, but because it is lost time that you use to draw the shapes [profiles] at all the places where they are found on this same plan. When the work is of a certain prominence, it is good to make a design of it on paper before laying it out, because you can better make an account of the forms and of the harmony all the parts have with each other.
When the work is particularly considerable, both for its richness as for its size, you must not be content with one design. It is necessary to draw it life-size on the walls of the room in which it will be installed so that you can judge the effect of the entire composition, including both joinery and Carving.
When the nature of the work is out of the ordinary you should make small models of it so as to neglect nothing in making it perfect.
I will not deny that all these precautions are costly, but they accelerate the execution of the work by removing all the difficulties that could be encountered. What’s more, they [the added precautions] respond with success. Whatever experience you have, it often happens that during the execution some difficulties arise that you never thought of. That is why they say to never be too enamored with your theory by avoiding your drawings and models. What’s more, what I recommend here is nothing new, since the greatest Artists of all kinds never execute anything they have not drawn and modeled previously.
The work thus designed or modeled according to the occasion, you draw on the board, which is ordinarily of pine and dressed [trimmed and whitewashed evenly] so as to be able to draw the work neatly. That is why we prefer this wood to all others for this use because when it is of a good quality it is extremely soft and [of] an even hardness throughout.
We use black or red stone, which we call sanguine [reddish drawing chalk], for drawing the work. However, it is good to begin to draw it with chalk because it erases more easily than black or red stone, which you should not use except when you have it all drawn with chalk.
You should not draw the shapes [profiles], as I said above, you must [instead] only do a chamfer/bevel [that is] the width of the moulding, but you must make one edge of the mouldings square while the other is contoured. However, as joinery can be simple, either with moulding part of the frame or moulding exceeding the thickness of the frame, it is good to draw the bulk of the shape [profile] of each type in a different manner, so the worker who makes the work cannot be deceived.
Simple profiles are designed with a single chamfer, like that of side g, Fig. 4. Those where the moulding is part of the thickness of the frame have a small framework [next to] a chamfer similar to the first one, with the exception that it is notched/squared by about a line down from the face corner, like that of side h.
For those of a large framework where the moulding exceeds the thickness of the frame, you make a chamfer in the front, and at the rear you mark their projection on the edges, noting to mark the grooves. When the frameworks have a moulding at the rear, you make a little chamfer to indicate this. Look at profile, side i, which represents a shape [profile] of a moulding projecting on one side, and level with the frame on the other. Side l represents a tongue-and-groove framework where the side enters by tongue and groove into a door frame.
In general, you must take care to draw the work precisely so that whoever makes it can do it more easily and can even trace on [top of] the plan without making other divisions.(4) [In order to design a space’s accouterments such as paneling, windows and doors en toto, one has to divide the expanse of the room into sections to lay out correctly and harmoniously the paneling including the frame work. As the portions of design are assembled into a compiled whole, the risk of compounding any error is substantial. In this passage, Roubo is sternly warning against sloppy layout. When the assembled plan is correct you can then project the same layout onto the wall and cut all your pieces. If the craftsmen doubt the accuracy of the drawing or note an error, they must restart with each portion or restart the layout to fit the wall correctly.] That is why one must trace with a sharpened point all the widths of the frames and the mouldings, which is more accurate than tracing with white stone. One must also take care to mark precisely all the grooves and rabbets, as well as tongues and grooves, the middles as well as the angles, that one must number, so that you can see in a single glance all the parts which go with the others.
The door frames are also marked in bulk, noting only to mark exactly the place of the grooves and the depth of the rabbet. Look at Fig. 5, which represents some paneling marked both in width and height.
The profiles of casements are also marked in bulk. Their little wooden pieces are marked squarely according to their width and thickness. When they are little uprights, you mark them with a cross, which passes the four angles, which indicates their cut with a diamond point. You also draw the rabbet of the frame with glass, as well as the shape of the profile of the imposts [fan lights], those of the door handle/hardware, and of the hand rail, see Fig. 6.
It is good before drawing the work, especially when you have not drawn anything, to calculate all the width of the wood so as to see right away the size of the panels or pilasters that you want to mark, so as to decrease or increase their number.
This way is the surest and easiest, not only because you make mistakes less easily, but also because it shortens the time that you are often required to spend making divisions and erasing them.
Joiners also draw the elevation of their works, especially when it is curved or ornamented with carving. These elevations are made with a sharp point without any shadow, if you omit the ornaments. But the latter are not the work of joiners. These elevations are called plans, in workmen’s terms, and are marked on large panels of pine. As it happens that there are lines which are only for construction, that is to say, to design some joints or some assemblies, you make them of another color than those of the elevation, so as to distinguish them. That is to say, that if the elevation is marked in black, the construction lines are made in red. Sometimes these lines are marked only by a point, especially when it is absolutely necessary that they be perfectly straight.
(4) While I say here that you must draw the work exactly on the plan so that you can trace on top of it, it is good that the workers take the pain to verify if the sections are made correctly when they start to trace so as to avoid following mistakes which may be on the plan, supposing there are any. What’s more, the divisions are always subject to some errors. That is why it is good to re-draw them on the work itself, in spite of the exactness of the plan [replicating the layout on the workpiece].
