Apologies for all the commercial blogs. We are trying to get all our holiday stuff into the store early because of delays with the mail system. Order soon to avoid disappointment. Today I have two quick things to report.
We finally have our brown moleskin vests in stock. These are identical to our green ones except for the color. These are handmade in Cincinnati using moleskin from Great Britain. Custom buttons. Durable stitching. My vest has become one of my favorite objects.
The only additional thing I can say about them is that I wouldn’t delay. These should sell quickly. (Also, we still have a few of the green ones in stock in XL and XXL, which you will see in the dropdown menu for “color.”)
Second item: The printer is finishing up work on Drew Langsner’s “Country Woodcraft: Then & Now” and it will be done soon. As a result, this is your last chance to order it and receive a free pdf of the book at checkout. After midnight on Thursday (Nov. 5), buying the book with the pdf will cost $48.75 (instead of $39).
We don’t know when the pre-publication orders will ship from the warehouse. Probably within two weeks.
We are thrilled to be publishing this updated and expanded edition of such an important woodworking book. “Country Woodcraft” inspired a generation of woodworkers to make spoons, bowls and other handy home implements. And we hope that the new version will inspire another generation.
A pile of my early designs from the 1990s that were vetted by my fellow editors.
If you want a good critique to help you grow as a designer (or a writer) here’s something to consider: Ask for the criticism before you touch the tools (or crank up the printing press).
Because of my odd path through life, almost all of my early furniture designs were vetted, savaged and usually improved by a group of experienced woodworkers before I started the construction process. For 15 years, all of the editors at Popular Woodworking would gather occasionally around a table to plan out future issues of the magazine. We would review proposals from outside authors and we would present our own designs for review.
The short critiques sounded like this: “That rail is too heavy. You don’t have enough meat in that joint. That overhang looks clunky. You might consider adding a sympathetic curve here. It needs a cup holder. If you tapered the legs it would look a lot lighter.”
Everyone had to go through the process, even the boss who went to a fancy furniture school.
This sort of pre-construction critique is so helpful, that I seek it out even now. Before I build a new chair or cabinet design I like to show my drawings to someone who knows their stuff and isn’t afraid to speak up.
I don’t act on every piece of criticism, but it always makes me think. And sometimes it pushes me down a new path.
On the other hand, criticism that comes after a piece is built is a different animal. With pointy fangs.
I’ve spoken to woodworking clubs all over the country. Many times they invite me to critique pieces made by their members. The first time I was asked to do this, I thought: “What a brave bunch of woodworkers.”
Then the club’s president took me aside and said: “Please be nice about it. One speaker was so mean that a couple of the guys ended up in tears.”
I empathize with this approach. Most of the members of a club are there to have a good time, learn about woodworking and help their community. They aren’t looking for a withering critique that will thicken their skin and question their choices as a designer. And so when I critique a finished piece I focus on what they did right and (I hope) encourage them to keep building.
One of the pieces from a recent “Chair Chat.” I loved this chair so much I made this drawing of it.
Another Way to Do It
What if you don’t have any friends who are experienced designers? One thing you might try is to get a few friends together and have something like our “Chair Chats” (we have two more publishing real soon). During each chat, Rudy Everts, Klaus Skrudland and I dissect the design of a few chairs. Because these are historical pieces, we are free to be as honest as possible.
What has been amazing to me is to see these pieces through the eyes of someone else I respect. We all pick up on different aspects of a piece. And by the time we completely take apart a chair verbally, I find that I understand the piece much better than I did before.
We do it via a texting program (Whatsapp) so that everyone’s opinions are heard. No one can talk over the others and dominate the discussion. It doesn’t take a lot of time, either. We spend about 30 to 40 minutes on a chair. And at the end of each critique I feel oddly refreshed, energized and full of ideas.
We have yet to replenish stock on “The Anarchist’s Workbench” and “The Anarchist’s Design Book” due to delays at one of our printing plants.
Both books have been delayed by several weeks but should be back in inventory the week of Nov. 16, according to our press representative. The reason the books have been delayed is complex. But if you boil it all down, big publishers need more printing capacity this fall so the small publishers get to sit on their hands.
If you are waiting for us to restock, I recommend you instead visit one of our retailers. Many of them have stock of both titles and can ship immediately.
Our newest bandana design has arrived in the warehouse and is available for immediate shipping. These bandanas are sewn and printed in the USA.
The design features our logo in the center, a swarm of bees and four “skeps” (not igloos) at the corners. Skeps are an early form of beehive. And bees and skeps were common symbols for woodworkers.
We use bandanas for a lot of things, from protecting our lungs when changing the dust collector to keeping our faces warm in cold weather. Bandanas aren’t the best protection against disease, but they are better than a sharp stick in the eye.
These bandanas feel a little coarse right from the factory. Wash yours before you use it, and it will become as soft as a bee’s belly.
The bandanas are $24. We have a limited quantity. Once they are gone, they are gone.
While at Popular Woodworking Magazine, we were often called upon to offer praise or criticism for projects submitted by readers.
On occasion, it would be difficult to find anything nice to say about the project. The form, the joinery and the finish were all rubbish. When this happened, here’s what I told my fellow editors.
“You can either tell them the truth (‘Have you ever considered golf as a hobby?’) and come off as a pious jerk and discourage them from continuing in the craft,” I said, “or you can say, ‘Wow, that is a crazy nice piece of oak.’”
Many beginners gravitate toward using woods with crazy figure or coloring. (I admit I had a very short lacewood phase.) And the sh*t show of chatoyance can obscure awkward forms, gappy joinery, lumpy finishes and poor surface preparation.
This bird’s-eye blindness or curly maple madness usually passes as woodworkers gain skill and confidence. But with some woodworkers it becomes a chronic condition. Wild figure tends to dazzle a viewer. When a customer sees a figured piece, they immediately say, “Wow!” So every piece the woodworker subsequently makes uses fiddleback-tiger-beeswing something-or-other to elicit that response.
When I encounter a highly figured piece, I step back and squint my eyes, which turns down the volume on the figure so I can see the form. Then I get really close to the piece to see the care taken in the joinery and surfaces. Only then can I appreciate the piece as a beautiful form that was carefully made and happens to use dazzling wood.
Personally, I am far more impressed by people who take homely woods and compose them beautifully to enhance the piece’s form. Straight grain on rails and stiles. Centered cathedrals on panels. Gently curved grain on a curved toe kick. Colors that reveal the form, instead of hiding it behind a dizzying fun house of ripples and swirls.
I know, I know. I’m no fun. If you think this blog entry sounds curmudgeonly, ask me about combining different species with contrasting colors sometime.
