A primitive chair finished with “Welsh Miserable.” Photo courtesy of Drew Langsner.
The following is excerpted from “Good Work: The Chairmaking Life of John Brown,” by Christopher Williams. It’s the first biography of one of the most influential chairmakers and writers of the 20th century: Welshman John Brown.
John Brown by his own admission wasn’t a fan of finishing. (See Good Woodworking issue 63.)
“American chairs are really polished. Typically, the finish is paint. Without exception all the American chairmakers I meet ask me how I get my finish. I fail to understand this because it is the least interesting part of my work. It’s an aggravating necessity, as far as I am concerned.”
Here are the finishes that John Brown regularly used. These were always applied before assembling the chair.
‘Welsh Miserable’ This term could be seen as a criticism of the Welsh and brown furniture. But I always took it in jest. During the ’80s and ’90s, brown was deemed to be the accepted colour of country furniture. Newly made furniture was also brown. JB secretly wanted to paint his chairs or leave them blonde. So “Welsh miserable” was his private joke.
JB’s recipe for this was a dark oak stain from a tin. Once it was dry, he applied a coat of sanding sealer. He would rub this back with fine sandpaper. He then applied two or three thin coats of shellac button polish and left the finish to dry overnight, if time allowed. He lastly applied a coat of dark oak wax polish with #0000 wire wool.
A Cardigan chair possibly finished with the “Spirit of Wales” finish.
The Spirit of Wales This finish was a favourite of his. It probably was the only finish he was enthused about as it brought out the artist in him! JB wrote, “The effect is not meant to reproduce an antique finish, but to try to capture the Spirit of Wales.”
JB would first apply a dark green water-based dye to the raw timber – always remembering to raise the grain a few times beforehand. When it was dry, he sanded it smooth and didn’t worry about sanding through the green. He then applied a dark brown stain over the green. When it was dry, he gave it a coat of sanding sealer. He sometimes added a coat of button polish before applying dark brown or black wax.
The finished chair had a greenish, brown/black appearance. In a certain light it’s spectacular.
Two primitive Welsh chairs with John Brown’s blonde finish.
Blonde JB described a natural-coloured chair as a “blonde chair.” He had two approaches to this.
If the natural colour of the grain was needed to be kept as bright as possible he used a white shellac polish. He would first apply a coat of sanding sealer. Then he gave it two or three coats of white shellac. In most cases he didn’t thin the polish; it was used direct from the bottle. Great care was needed as a high gloss could be attainted very quickly. This in turn gave the chair a glassy look. Finally, he applied a clear wax polish with #0000 wire wool.
He would sometimes (in his words) want to “kill the lightness.” By adding a few coats of shellac garnet polish over the sanding sealer this gave the chair a honey colour and a warm glow. He would finish up with a light, oak-coloured paste wax.
JB predominantly used the combination of oak and elm for the bulk of his chairs. Each species complemented the other colour-wise. If a steambent ash bow was added to the mix, it was coloured to blend in with the oak and elm. He achieved this by first making a strong pot of tea. The tea was applied to the ash arm before the sanding sealer and subsequent finish.
Oil I only saw JB use oil on occasion. The tenons on the legs, stretchers and sticks were covered in masking tape to prevent the oil from penetrating. The oil was applied and left to dry before he applied a coat of paste wax with #0000 wire wool.
To me it looked lacklustre compared to the shinier shellac finish.
Dimensions of a Swiss shaving horse. Legs are canted 12° lengthwise and 12° to the sides. Jaw overhang is 2″. The aft end of the work support overhang should be a few inches longer.
In 1978, Drew Langsner released his book “Country Woodcraft” to the world, and it sparked a movement – still expanding today – of hand-tool woodworkers who make things with mostly green wood.
The 304 pages of “Country Woodcraft” showed you how to split wood from the forest and shape into anything you might need, from a spoon to a bowl, from a hay rake fork to a milking stool, a pine whisk to a dining table.
After more than 40 years, Drew revisited this long-out-of-print and important book to revise and expand it to encompass what he has learned since “Country Woodcraft” was first released.
The result is “Country Woodcraft: Then & Now,” which has been expanded by nearly 100 pages and has been updated throughout to reflect what Drew has learned since 1978. Among many other additions, it includes greatly expanded sections on building shavehorses, carving spoons and making green-wood bowls.
The original book’s text is intact, and the old photos are in black and white. Throughout the book, Drew has added text, which we set in a slightly different font, to explain what he does differently now after 40 years of daily work on the North Carolina farm he shares with his wife, Louise.
In many ways, the book is a delightful conversation between the younger Drew, who is happy to chop down trees with a felling axe, and the older Drew, who now uses an electric chainsaw and band saw to break down stock to conserve energy (and likely aspirin). New illustrations and color photos throughout show how Drew works now.
During Country Workshops’ early years it seemed that we were always making shaving horses. We needed a herd for classes, and we offered courses in making them. These were mostly based on the design for Reudi Kohler’s shaving horse from the Swiss Alps. The Swiss-German name is a zug stuhl. In English, single-lever horses are sometimes called a dumb head.
At about that time, post-and-rung chairmaker Brian Boggs was experimenting with shaving horse possibilities derived from the British tradition where the mechanism consists of two pivoting levers that straddle the bench and work support. A cross-wise clamping bar connects the two levers at the upper working end. The foot pedal is another crosspiecethat holds the assembly together at the lower end. This type often has three legs – good for stability on a rough, uneven floor. The double-lever version is sometimes called a bodger’s horse. (I discuss the bodger myth in Chapter 12: A Spring-Pole Lathe.)
The distinctive feature of Brian’s shaving horse is a vertical ratchet system, for quickly adjusting the space between the work support and the jaw. The mechanism – sometimes called a wagon jack – was a breakthrough in shaving horse design. Brian also included a rotating jaw. This greatly improves clamping efficiency compared to the more common fixed cross-bar.
The immediately appreciated advantage of the ratchet is that it works quickly and easily. Less obvious is that the user now decides what height and angle is best for efficient tool use. The work support is lowered when working thicker stock. You select the height that your arms like, not the stock thickness. You always have optimal ergonomics. In contrast, with dumb-head shaving horses, the height of the jaw is adjusted for material thickness. With a thick chunk of wood you need to raise your arms to a position that often isn’t efficient body mechanics.
Also pre-Brian; the work support on twin-lever shaving horses usually pivots at the front of the bench. The work support is commonly adjusted with a wedge between the bench and lower surface of the work support. Consequently, the work support angle changes as the work support is adjusted for the stock thickness. With thin stock you need to pull upwards – uncomfortable and inefficient. And with thick stock you’re almost pulling the drawknife into your thighs.
A common disadvantage of traditional twin-lever horses is that the holes for the pivot bolt go through the bench – close to midpoint of the levers. The leverage ratio is inferior to the single-lever horses which have the pivot hole near the lever head. On dumb-head horses there is a further adjustment – additional bolt holes in the lever. On the bodger versions this adjustment is possible if the cross-bar can be moved up and down. When you do this, you need to adjust your arm height – possibly to an uncomfortable and inefficient working posture.
On most traditional bodger’s horses the cross-bar is fixed to the twin levers. The cross-bar doesn’t grab the work very well, due to a lack of bearing surface. Remember the poor leverage ratio caused by the low position of the pivot. This limitation can be overcome with a cross-bar that rotates. Now the cross-bar lies flat on the work.
A potential disadvantage of this feature is that the twin-lever unit isn’t as sturdy as it is with a fixed cross-bar. However, that can be overcome by stiffening the twin-lever unit at the lower foot end. With a rotating cross-bar, you gain so much holding friction that the poor location of the pivot becomes irrelevant.
Now we’ll look at design details with the single-lever dumb-head shaving horses. Because of the need to shave wood of various thickness there is no perfect shape for the lower bearing surface of the jaw. (This is the same problem as the fixed cross-bar in twin-lever horses.) This can be partly overcome by inserting something under the jaw or on top of the work support that increases grabbing strength. Reudi Kohler would use a piece of sandpaper, folded in half with the abrasive surfaces exposed.
A significant advantage found on most dumb-head shaving horses is the lateral foot treadle, rather than the foot cross-bar on bodger’s horses. The treadle eliminates the need to extend your legs nearly as far as with the cross-bar. Tall, leggy people don’t seem to understand this. I think the treadle is required.
One winter Carl Swensson decided to study shaving horses. (He wanted to design, make and use the best shaving horse possible.) Carl worked with the single-lever version, which is somewhat better for cooperage, which is what he was doing at the time.
I had always assumed that a shaving horse works because the head/ jaw comes down onto the workpiece, pinching it in place. Carl found that pinching doesn’t work very well. This is particularly true with dumb-head horses where there’s a compromise shape on the bottom of the jaw – it doesn’t lay flat on the workpiece.
Carl found that either type of shaving horse works much better when the jaw opening is adjusted so that there’s very little downward movement. The jaw moves in an arc, from about 12 o’clock to somewhere between 1 and 3 o’clock. When the jaw is adjusted to connect high in the arc, it’s moving at a low angle. Now it’s jamming, not pinching. You can’t pull the work loose, even with slight pressure at the foot treadle. It’s grabbing more like a wedge, not a connector like a clamp pad. An additional benefit of the close jaw opening is that there’s no need to press very far at the treadle, making life considerably easier. And work goes a bit quicker. The concept works equally well with dumb-head and bodger’s horses. It’s particularly effective when the bodger’s horse has a pivoting crosspiece. To increase friction with his dumb-head horse, Carl added a piece of semi-hard rubber on the bottom of the jaw.
Twin-lever horses win the efficiency contest because they can utilize a rotating crosspiece. On the dumb-head version the shape of the jaw is fixed, and is therefore never quite right.
An improvement that can be made with any dumb-head horse is to add more pivot bolt holes for adjusting the height of the jaw. The bolt holes should be spaced as close as possible. You can then adjust the height so that the jaw closes near the top of the arc, when it’s at a jamming angle.
This is Tom Donahey’s version of the ratchet work support. Further refinements are the extended aft work support, and the rectangular section pivoting cross-bar– with an off-center through-assembly bolt – for more adjustability. Tom substituted an extended treadle for the conventional foot cross bar, a major improvement.
One year, chairmaker Tom Donahey asked if I would be interested in selling shaving horses through our Country Workshops Store. “Sure” was the quick answer.
Tom’s version of a twin-lever horse utilizes the ratchet work support. His bench design and other details are considerably different than Brian’s version. In early discussions I promoted a lateral foot treadle, rather than the foot cross-bar found on most bodger’s horses.
As with Brian’s shaving horse, Tom decided to drop the traditional flat bench – with four legs – in favor of a stiff frame consisting of twin 2” rails on edge, and three legs. The space between the rails conveniently locates the single front leg, the vertical ratchet part of the work support, and the wooden flipper device that engages the ratchet teeth.
We also wanted a wide, comfortable seat. But where and how should the seat be attached to the frame? We decided to experiment with adjustable seat positions. A small keel was attached to the underside of the seat for the prototype horse. The keel fits neatly between the bench rails. It turns out that there’s no need to secure the seat in place. You are you! The seat doesn’t want to move when you advance the treadle. The seat with keel remains – and now Tom’s shaving horse seats are upholstered.
Over time, other refinements were incorporated into the design. The bolt holes for the crosspiece were moved from the center of the levers to a location close to the aft edge. Moving the cross-bar aft helps when you need to work close to the mechanism, as with short stock, like a spoon blank.
We decided to call Tom’s version a shaving mule since it combines elements from so many earlier breeds of shaving horses, plus our innovations. Tom has made well over 200, and the mules were used at Country Workshops classes for many years. We also produced a set of detailed plans for DIY makers. I don’t know how many plans we sold, but some years ago we decided to put a free pdf download file on the Country Workshops website. This is currently available in the CW Archive section of my website, DrewLangsner.com.
Tom Donahey’s Shaving Mule.
The Story Continues … During the Country Workshops years (1978 through 2017) I organized a series of international craft tours to Scandinavia, the U.K., Switzerland and Japan. In Japan I met Masashi Kutsuwa, a woodworker who teaches at Gifu Academy of Forest Science and Culture.
Masashi asked if I would be interested in teaching a post-and-rung chairmaking course. It would be run by the Japan Green Woodwork Association and take place at his school. Starting a chairmaking course isn’t easy. We would need tools and equipment, including 15 shaving horses. Masashi designed an easy-to-make twin-lever horse that can be quickly folded into a compact shape for storage. I loved teaching the class. But I didn’t like those shaving horses! (I won’t bother to discuss the problems with the design – trust me.) Something better would be needed for future classes. I promoted adopting Tom’s mules. Masashi countered that the design was too difficult for many woodworkers to construct. Also, he had to consider storage and transport – the Japan Green Woodworker group meets at different locations. But the real challenge with the Mule is making the precision ratchet mechanism. Tom’s design for attaching the rear legs also requires a compound-angled saw cut. It’s clever and works fine…if you can do it.
One day I received a booklet in the mail “Green Wood Work,” a Japanese primer for getting started with green woodworking. I could only understand the pictures – color photos and nice drawings. On page 25 my jaw dropped when I saw a new version of Masashi’s folding shaving horse. The significant innovation was that the work support was now two boards and two hinges that pivoted at opposite ends. The bench and work support make a “Z” configuration. The lower diagonal board raises and lowers the work support. The upper board’s hinge allows adjustments with the work support angle. Masashi’s new version also collapses into a compact bundle for storage and transport.
Masashi Kutsuwa’s Z work support shaving horse collapses and sets up in less than 30 seconds.
Here’s a way to easily set the work support at any height and at any angle. To keep things simple, the adjustments are made with loose wood blocks that act as wedges. I was also happy to see that the new folding horse used a lateral foot treadle, and a non-attached seat. The design still folds into a compact bundle for storage. My Japanese friends call it the Origami Horse.
I decided to make a Z-Mule that combines elements from Tom’s and Masashi’s versions, plus other elements. In this version, the diagonal of the Z is adjusted with a pivoting cam that stays in place better than a loose wedge. The holes in the cam look cool, but they’re really there to give you something to grab when adjusting the rotation. The diagonal and work support boards are attached with standard door hinges.
This is my Z-Mule. The frame and lever assembly borrow elements from all over the place.
Masashi also came up with a clever way to attach the foot treadle; it simply lifts from the lever assembly when you want to knock the mule down for storage. I’ve kept Tom’s sliding seat. In this variant the rear legs are rotated 90° and are secured to the bench rails by nesting into channels cut into the sides of the rails. Easy to do and sturdy. I’ve also incorporated a rotating cross-bar. One further refinement is that the cross-bar is rectangular in section, not square. This provides another potential adjustment in the spacing between the cross-bar and work support.
Masashi’s quick-detach foot treadle and the underside of Tom’s upholstered seat. Both on the Z-Mule.
I decided to incorporate a few style touches. The Z-Mule is not purely a form-follows-function design. It needs to look good. The front leg tapers narrower toward the floor, while the rear legs taper larger. This may seem odd, but I believe that it looks right. Also, I thickness-planed the diagonal and work-support boards to 1-1/4″. An odd dimension, but another visual tweak.
Of course you can design and make your own version of a shaving horse. Please borrow freely from what I’ve shared about these wonderful, fun workshop critters.
Plate 14. St. Fagans. “Pura Wallia …” These three arm-chairs are all of similar type: (a) is from Caernarvonshire; (b) from Cardiganshire, and (c) from Radnorshire. They represent a total Welshness from the mid 18th century.
Tracing the provenance of individual country chairs is a complicated business, probably with few exceptions, impossible. There is no scholarly standard work to refer to. Chairs with similar characteristics are found in different parts of the country (Plate 14). They cannot, with any certainty, be regionalised. Carmarthenshire, with large areas of good farming land and a high proportion of better houses, is known for the quality and elegance of its locally-built furniture. Chairs found in the county, whilst unmistakably Welsh, have a greater sophistication than those made in the more remote parts further north (Plate 20). Dating Welsh stick chairs is very difficult. Whether these Carmarthenshire chairs were made concurrently with their more ‘folk art’ cousins from further north is difficult to say, but it looks as though they might have been. There is the possibility of another regional style. Some Welsh chairs have a wide lozenge- shaped seat, with only three or four untapered, heavier long sticks at the back. This type appears to come from the north (Plate 8, a & c).
Plate 20. St. Fagans. A pair of chairs from Carmarthenshire, probably dating from the last quarter of the 18th century.
As the standard of living improved, throughout Wales primitive furniture and chairs were made. By whom and for whom it is difficult to say. For certain, these items did not find their way into the squire’s house and they were almost entirely rural. The one thing about the chairs is that they all fulfilled the strict definition of ‘Windsor’, in that they grew from a solid wooden seat, having legs and sticks socketed into that seat. The termination of the long back sticks was normally a comb, that is a piece of wood, sometimes curved, sometimes straight, into which the tops of the sticks were mortised. Rarely, a few later chairs have a steamed bow or hoop (Plates 16 & 20). Many of the chairs terminated at the arm, that is the rear sticks did not come up to the level of shoulders or head. These arm-chairs, quite common, are the forerunner of the smoker’s bow or captain’s chair (Plate 14).
Plate 8. St. Fagans. (a) and (c) are examples of chairs which seem to come from mid to north Wales and have three or four heavy untapped sticks; (b) is a handsome chair with a slightly ‘saddled’ seat. Chair (d) has great charm, and has been ‘modified’. The heavy arm and turned posts are interesting.
What is it that makes these chairs so attractive that now they have become highly sought after collectors’ items? Could it be some extension of the old Celtic art which makes them so appealing? – a naive folk art uncluttered by association with the contemporary urban styles. Many characteristics of the design are extremely good, and represent what we look for today in a well proportioned chair. The most obvious feature is that the legs are set well into the seat with a good rake. The English chair has the legs at the corners, and they are more upright. This is not so elegant. Stretchers to strengthen the legs were sometimes used; there seem to be no rules. When English goods and ideas reached the country village, the rural craftsman was influenced to use some design, and some of the chairs began to lose their spontaneity (Plate 16).
Plate 16. Windsor Handbook. This chair illustrates what happens when a country-maker tries to copy his more sophisticated cousins. This is an English chair, made in Wales.
Rural poverty and religious bigotry have triggered much migration of Welsh people, mainly to the New World. In the 1670s, Quakers from Montgomeryshire and Meirionethshire were central to the formation of Pennsylvania. William Penn’s deputy was a Welshman called Thomas Lloyd. Later came the ‘Welsh Tract’ and, in 1786, it was claimed that there were over 900 Welsh Baptist chapels in Pennsylvania and the adjoining states. Welsh shipowners ran a continual service between Pennsylvania and Wales. From north Pembrokeshire and Cardiganshire large scale migrations took place to the Welsh Liberty settlement. Printing in the Welsh language went on in Pennsylvania into this century.
Plate 15. “Windsor Handbook.” The English chair. Wallace Nutting was very unkind about this chair. There are much worse shapes of English Windsor. This one is quite nice. Note the splat.
Throughout the United States, Windsor chairs are much more widely seen than in Britain. Furthermore, they are to be found in the best parlours. The class distinction does not exist there. In court-houses and banqueting rooms, hotels and country clubs, American Windsors are in all the best places. There are many unique American-designed Windsors, and the industry or craft started in Pennsylvania. This in itself would not be important were it not for the fact that in two respects American Windsor chairs are similar to Welsh stick chairs. Firstly, there are no splats in the back of either sort. The splat is peculiar to English regional chairs and Wycombe chairs. Secondly, a common feature is the rake, or splay, of the legs. A collector of American chairs, the Reverend Wallace Nutting, wrote a book on the subject in 1917. He illustrates a bow-back English Windsor chair with a pierced splat (Plate 15). Under ‘merit’ he says, “The English Windsors lack grace. Observe how stubby and shapeless the arms are. The bow is very heavy without being stronger for its purpose than a lighter one. The splat is peculiar to the English type. The legs are a very poor feature. They are too nearly vertical, and start too near the corner of the seat for strength or beauty, and their turnings are very clumsy …” The oft repeated statement that American Windsors derive from the English chair could be in error. For historical reasons, and because of similarities in design, there seems to be a more direct link between the Welsh chair and the American Windsor. Perhaps the English version is the cousin, and the Welsh chair is the father!
Here is an English-style set-up for mortising. The handscrew grasps the workpiece plus a second block that is pinched in your face vise. Like many of the best techniques, this one I learned from a traditionally trained woodworker.
When I decided to build the three projects featured in “The Joiner and Cabinet Maker,” my plan was to assume the role of Thomas W., the book’s young apprentice. I was going to venture forth with a tabula rasa in hand and discard the woodworking knowledge I’d accumulated since childhood, including my preferences for certain techniques and tools. And I would simply build the three projects as Thomas did, and see what I could learn by spending about five months in his shoes.
But as with all projects, things rarely get built “to the print.”
As I started building the Chest of Drawers, which took more than two months of nights and weekends, my youngest daughter started following me whenever I would traipse down the stairwell to my workshop below our living room.
Katy, 8, would watch me work, clean up behind me and ask questions. Then one day as I was paring out some garbage from between some dovetail pins, she asked if she could try it. I handed her the chisel, cradled her hands in mine and let her feel what it was like to slice the end grain of American black cherry.
After making five or so cuts together she asked to do it herself. It was like the time I let go of the handlebars while teaching her to ride a bike. My hands hovered over hers and my mind raced. What the heck was I thinking? Did I think I could catch the chisel before it dove into someplace it wasn’t supposed to go? Surely, I thought, one of us is going to the emergency room this evening.
Some of the tools of the English joiner from Peter Nicholson’s “Mechanic’s Companion” (1832). Note how the blades of the backsaws taper or cant from heel to toe.
Nothing bad happened. Katy pared close to the baseline, and I told her I would finish the job. She asked if she could borrow a saw and wood to practice at the far corner of my bench while I finished up. I agreed.
And it was at this moment that this whole book changed. Throughout the rest of the project I treated Katy as much like an apprentice as I could. She warmed the hide glue. She assisted with glue-ups. She kept the shop clean.
But most of all she asked an endless stream of questions about planes, saws, chisels and wood. When I didn’t have anything for her to do, she would practice planing or sawing on some scrap pine. I kept watch over her out of the corner of my eye and would correct a wayward stance or grip. When I performed an operation, such as sharpening my smoothing plane, I let her watch. Then I asked her to imitate me and sharpen a block plane blade.
I didn’t dive deep into the theory behind everything. I just showed her the best practices I knew, with all the shortcuts and warnings I could think of. Theory, I figured, was something that could come with later study on her part.
All of these tools are essential to building the three projects in this book. Perhaps the most important tool is the workbench. Shown is the famous English workbench design from Peter Nicholson’s “Mechanic’s Companion.”
It wasn’t long before I realized I should take a different tack with my contribution to “The Joiner and Cabinet Maker.” Instead of merely mimicking Thomas’s behavior, I decided to expand my reach. Yes, I would cut dovetails the way that Thomas did. But I would also cut dovetails the way I was taught. And I would compare the approaches and examines the advantages and disadvantages of each.
There wouldn’t be any way I could turn the book into a survey of all the joinery methods out there (that would be a much longer book). But I could offer this book as a guide for my daughter and other woodworkers who wish to explore hand work through two sets of hands.
Here in these pages is what I have learned during my long internship as the editor of two woodworking magazines. As a guy who has gotten to visit the shops of fantastic woodworkers all over the world. As a guy who reads old woodworking books like they were written by Dean Koontz.
And here also is how one anonymous but knowledgeable writer thought woodworking and joinery should be done circa 1839.
There are lessons to be learned from both approaches. And Katy, I hope that by the time you are old enough to read this that you are able to decide for yourself how to go forward in the craft.
The most important thing the bench does for you is hold a job whilst you work on it. (I remember my early days without a bench, struggling to hold work with one hand whilst cutting with the other. I am amazed I came out without more damage to my digits. The opportunity to saw off part or all of my hand was a daily event.) The bench is just a giant, flat holding device that allows you to get into the correct position to do the work properly. You are then free to concentrate on balance and being in control. That’s what matters – control.
There are a few things a cabinetmaker’s bench has to be. It has to be heavy. You will be exerting horizontal and vertical forces on it, and you don’t want it moving around – so spend some money on timber and make it heavy.
The bench is just a giant, flat holding device that allows you to get into the correct position to do the work properly. You are then free to concentrate on balance and being in control. PHOTO: WR PHOTOGRAPHY
Make your bench to suit your height. This is critical. Many benches I see are very low. The bench height we suggest has rewarded us with strong, undamaged backs. It’s a high bench surface set up for general planing. To determine the right height for you, stand alongside a bench. Bend your elbow. Extend the forefinger and thumb of your left hand. Touch your thumb to your elbow. The point of the forefinger is where your benchtop should be. This will do for almost all work. In case you do need to get on top of a job, keep a small “hop-up box” stored beneath the front rail.
The bench has to have tool well. This is the place to gather the tools in use for a given project. The working surface of the bench should be kept as clear as possible at all times. The benchtop is for the job at hand – nothing else. We know that this game is about skill with speed, and speed is about organisation and picking up and putting down tools fast. Thinking ahead, not being slowed down by a lost chisel in a pile of shavings, is key. We go nuts about such professional practice at Rowden. At the end of day, we put tools away sharp. I know you are tired, but sharpen your tools, sweep the benchtop, sweep the floor – then go home.
Kentucky turkey-wing bench brush.
Benchtops need to be swept down regularly to keep them free of dust and shavings. Christopher Schwarz sent me this brush as a memento of our visit to Shaker Village at Pleasant Hill. Just look at the design and workmanship! The ends of the bristles thin down to fine strands, and at the bottom they form not a straight line but a gentle arc. Perfect for this job. Look at the binding wrapping elegantly in groups of three, then a gap, gathering more with the movement of each group of three down the handle. At the base, the full handle is bound with an inexplicable hanging hook, coming from the centre of the binding. How did they do that? This, Chris calls a Turkey Wing, I call it the best bench brush ever to have been made.
A clean, well-lighted place.
You can go a long way with great bench, a bag of good, sharp hand tools and good bench light. As my eyes have dimmed, the number of bench lights I need has increased – but you will likely need only one, a good one that can be moved around all over the place.
Workbench elevation.
Workbench Plan.
Workbench Profile.
The tool well collects everything from shavings to dust, tea mugs to half-eaten sandwiches. That’s what it’s for. The bench surface is golden territory – keep it clear and clean; do it no damage. When making this surface, you will respond to the timber that you actually have available. But don’t be tempted to make the bench surface too wide. You need to keep this surface flat, and if it’s very wide, you will need very long arms to flatten it…and the task will be tiresome and not done as regularly as it should. There will come times, usually when developing third-scale prototypes, that you use this bench surface as a datum reference surface – so it’s important to keep it spot on. Our practice is that at the end of every big job, the surface is dressed lightly with a bench plane. Just a shaving all over gets it clean, flat and new – ready for the next job.
