‘Carpenter’s Workshop’ (1884), charcoal on paper, private collection.
Léon Augustin Lhermitte (1844-1925) was a painter of working people. He was known as a realist and specialized in depicting people working in their homes, in workshops and the fields. As far as I have found, he completed three pieces featuring woodworkers: carpenters (above, featured previously on this blog), a wheelwright and a turner.
Looking at the ‘Carpenter’s Workshop’ one gets the sense that if you could walk into the scene you would find yourself back in 1884. You would smell fresh wood shavings and wood smoke, hear the conversation between the men and perhaps have a quick greeting tossed your way.
‘The Wheelwright’ or ‘The Old Cartwright and His Wife’ (1897), pastel on paper, private collection.
The wheelwright’s wife sits close to her husband as he works and it is in her figure we see a sign of age, a reminder that there was no retirement. He will work until he no longer able.
‘The Lathe’ (1868), charcoal on paper, Collection of the Victoria & Albert Museum, London.
The turner, like the wheelwright, has been at his craft for many years. He works in a confined space with his tools just behind him. In concert with the other craftsman he has his chopping block and ax at the ready.
Today I caught up on a few saved entries on the ‘Spitalfields Life’ blog by the Gentle Author. The blog documents daily life in the East End of London. A few days ago there was an anouncement of the death of the turner, Maurice Franklin, age 98. Mr. Franklin was interviewed for the blog in August 2011 when he was still doing part-time work. You can read his story here.
Mr. Franklin was apprenticed at age 13. When he was interviewed in 2011 he was quoted as saying, “I wake up every day and I stretch out my arms and if I don’t feel any wood on either side, then I know I can get up.” Wise words from a nonagenarian.
1912 ad for the Pike Manufacturing Co., Haverhill, New Hampshire.
That’s a pretty good incentive don’t you think? Sharpen your tools and stop swearing.
EverybodyDoesIt – A Sharpening World Tour
“The Polisher”
Neolithic polissoirs, characterized by straight grooves and a shallow basin, were used to sharpen axes, arrows and blades. If you encounter one you will see, and feel, that the grooves and basin remain smooth compared to the rough surface of the rest of the boulder. The Polisher in the photo above is on the Malborough Downs, Wiltshire, England. Polissoirs are also found in France.
Whakarewa.
Whakarewa is a grindstone used by generations of Maori. It sat in Mimiha stream until it was moved in the 1920s to make room for roads and other development.
The Romans mined whetstones in North Gaul (present day Northern France and Belgium), Crete and in other areas they conquered. The whetstones from North Gaul have been found in settlements dating to the 1st century C.E.
Some of the whetstones from North Gaul, such as the one above, have been found buried beneath the main support posts of buildings. It is not known what symbolic meaning the stones had for the builders or occupants of the buildings. Did a stone taken from the earth then used to sharpen tools or weapons become a powerful protector once placed back in the earth?
Louis-Charles Bombled, late 19th/early 20th century, Musee Jurassien des Art Moutier, Switzerland.
Roubo mentions sharpening stones as one of the necessary tools to be provided in a workshop. In Blombled’s crowded workshop, a sharpening station is right where it should be – close to the benches.
Top: collotype with hand coloring, MFA, Boston. Bottom: unattributed photo. Both are late 19th/early 20th century.
The Japanese workshops/work areas may be different from the European model, however, an area for sharpening was set up. At top, a chisel is being sharpened; in the bottom photo, (left foreground) sharpening stones and a water basin are at the ready.
A convenient placement for a sharpening stone, 1920s from “China at Work” by Rudolf Hommel.
A sharpening stone was placed near an entrance. Whether you are coming or going, it’s a good reminder to sharpen your tools.
There is some evidence of pillars or other stone supports that were designated “sharpening spots” on large construction sites, especially when the constructions lasted decades or longer. The Cathedral of Valencia has such a spot near an entrance that is marked with deep vertical grooves.
Detail from Plate 12, “To Make as Perfectly as Possible.”
In Plate 12, Roubo illustrates the tools needed to sharpen saws. He includes a saw set, triangular file and a saw-holding vise to be secured on the workbench.
Top: detail from “Preparatory Drawing in the Style of Hokusai,” 1811, British Museum. Bottom: “Totomi Sanchu,” 1830-31, by Hokusai, MFA, Boston.
Positioned close to sawyers cutting massive pieces of lumber we find the saw sharpeners. One uses a vise made of blocks, while another has adapted a tree stump to serve as a vise. (The full-size images of the drawing and woodblock print are in the gallery at the end of this post.)
In this shop setting we see another saw vise option and it includes a stabilizing foot.
One more set-up for sharpening saws in the field (or forest). Using a low staked bench and shaped wooden “grippers” (and maybe some wedges) the pit saw is secured for sharpening. Side note: the photo is unattributed but is possibly Russian as the lower word in the logo (bottom right) is Russian for joiner or carpenter.
Women’s Land Army/Women’s Forestry Corps, Britain, WWI, Imperial War Museum.
Is that a woman sharpening a two-woman saw in a lumber camp? Why yes, yes it is.
Left: Ichikawa Danjuro in the Role of Soga Goro from the play “Yanone,” ca. 1790, MFA, Boston. Top right: unattributed photo, late 19th/early 20th century. Bottom right: detail from “A Book Mirror of Various Occupations,” 1685, MFA, Boston.
This composite is a reminder of how little has changed in using sharpening stones on metal edges. A domed stone in a water basin (or a nearby basin) is used by sword makers 200 or more years apart. In a kabuki play, Yanone (Arrowhead) Goro sharpens a double-headed arrow as he prepares to avenge his father’s murder.
Whetstones
From a 1650 version of “Cries of London.”
One of the great values of whetstones is their portability. Take them into the field or forest. Pack them in your tool box for the trip to the next job site. Whetstone quarries abound with some in operation for centuries.
Eidsborg Whetstone Quarry, Norway.
The Eidsborg quarry in Tokke, Telemark, Norway, was in operation from at least the 8th century until 1970.
Initial trimming of a whetstone. Watercolor from the diaries of Peter Orlando Hutchinson, 1854.
In the Blackdown Hills near the Somerset-Devon border in southwest England whetstones were mined from the 17th century to the early 20th century. Miners had small individual stakes on the side of a hill. The men of the family (father and older boys) dug the mine shaft, hewed out the stone and did the initial shaping with a basing axe. The wife and small children of the family did the final shaping. It was a hard way to make a living and exposure to fine stone particles and dust affected the health of the entire family.
Blackdown Hills whetstone “batts.”
Whetstone batts from the Blackdown Hills were used to sharpen scythes and other farm implements and tools.
Roy Underhill at a played-out whetstone quarry.
One of the many explorations undertaken by Roy Underhill was to locate an old whetstone quarry near Chapel Hill, North Carolina. His trip, and what he found, is in a chapter of his book “The Woodwright’s Companion.”
RotatingGrindstones
Psalm 63, “Utrecht Psalter,” Universiteitsbibliotheek, Utrecht. Digital image from the Warburg Institute Iconographic Database.
The earliest (so far) illustration of a rotary grindstone is from the 9th century “Utrecht Psalter.” It is supposedly a metaphor for “They sharpen their tongues like swords…” The grinder (grinding master?) sits high above the grindstone and to the side his minion turns a crank. Later manuscripts give us a better idea of the arrangement of this type of grindstone.
Top: “Luttrell Psalter,” 1340, British Museum. Bottom: fresco, 1425-40, Palazzo della Ragione, Padua, photo by Renzo Dionigi.
The top image provides a variation on a bird’s-eye view of this stationary grinder. The fresco below provides a much better view of how the grinder sat above the rotating stone. The lower half of the stone sits in a well of water and the minion turns the crank. This type of set-up could be found where large amounts of metal might be wrought, such as a large farming estate and shops making armor and weapons. The hand crank gave control over the speed of the grinding wheel.
Top left: “Cris de Paris,” 1500, BnF, Arsenal. Bottom left: “Cries of London” (source unknown), 1655. Right: “Cries of London” (source unknown), 1688.
If you lived in a city and had knives and scissors (or sciffars, or cifers) that needed sharpening a street vendor with a grinding wheel was readily available. The grinding wheel was propelled by a foot pedal and the vendor could use both hands. The vendor on the right has a cup (behind the larger wheel) to hold water or oil and on the frame there is a rag to wipe the blade clean (Chris has christened these rags, woobies).
Mr. Bert Smith, Bethnal Green in East London, c. 1949-1956, photo by Nigel Henderson, collection of the Tate.
The bicycle, both to turn the grindstone and to propel the cart, was another iteration of the portable grinder. Street vendors using foot or bicycle power can still be found in some large cities, but it is more common to visit a small shop or farmers’ market to have knives or scissors sharpened. That is why having a woodworker as a friend is a bonus.
Smaller versions of the stationary grinder became an asset to both large and small woodworking shops.
From “Lewis Miller: Sketches and Chronicles; Reflections of a Nineteenth Century Pennsylvania German Folk Artist,” 1810.
In 1810, Lewis Miller, carpenter and chronicler of York, Pennsylvania, has a small hand-cranked grinder in his shop.
Women’s Land Army/Women’s Forestry Corps, Britain, WWI, Imperial War Museum.
And just over 100 years later hand-cranked grinders were still in use. Electric bench grinders are most often in use today and remain an important tool in a woodworker’s shop.
There is one more pre-electric “bench” grinder to examine and that requires a short trip to Switzerland in 1367.
The “Spiezer Chronik” was commissioned to document the history of Bern, from its founding to the mid-15th century. It was written by Diebold Schilling, the Elder of Bern. The chronicle includes a lot of action from the very-long Burgundian Wars and wonderful color illustrations.
On page 367 there is a scene at a river. On one side stands an army and on the other a forest. The explanation of the scene is: “The Bishop of Basel wants to cut down the Bremgarten forest, for which the Berners provide him with the grindstone, 1367.”
The accommodating people of Bern provided benches with hand-cranked grindstones, water buckets and whetstones. Extra grindstones are arranged on the trees. The Bishop brought the axes. Sit astride a low bench and hand-crank the grindstone, what an idea.
PickOne
If you listen to most of the experienced woodworkers out there they will tell you it doesn’t matter what system of sharpening you use.
The Arrotino (with woobie over his shoulder), 1st century B.C.E, Roman copy of an Hellenistic original, Uffizi, Florence.
Use sharpening stones, water or oil. Don’t forget the woobie.
“Axe Sharpener” by Chicago-area artist and rock musician Jay Ryan. From Sebastian Foster online.
Use a file to get those burrs. And yes, bears do sharpen in the woods.
From delcampe.net.
Go old school and use the classic “head-over-grindstone”method. If need be, your dog can be a counterweight.
The point is: chose a method, learn it and use it to sharpen your tools.
Resources
On this blog go to the Categories drop down menu (on the right) and look for “Sharpen This.” There you will find Chris Schwarz’s full series on sharpening.
Many books published by Lost Art Press include discussions on sharpening. One place to start is Chapter 10 “Essential Sharpening Kit” in “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest.”
You can read about the woobie, ahem, “The SuperWoobie” here.
Happy winner Bill Rainford with his pack horse William.
The winner of a Lost Art Press bandana (man scarf) and Chester Cornett button is ‘speed poet’ Bill Rainford. Within 46 minutes of the posting of the Caption Challenge Bill submitted a four-line poem capturing the pleasures and perils of living in a tree stump:
”There was a young couple who lived in a stump/They had so many children they clearly like to hump/With only one room and only one bed/They should grow an addition as that tree isn’t dead.”
There were 233 entries that arrived before the cut off and there are five that I have selected as Honor Mentions:
Bob Brown submitted, “Man leaves woman in trunk.” A nice murder-mystery vibe and another reminder to me to never buy a very large suitcase.
Samuel Holland submitted, “Why would I ask for a tree bedroom house? It makes no sense.” I like puns and this also reminds me of a guy I ran into once. He kept saying “tree” on the very tree-less waterfront in Jersey.
immltasbi submitted a very short short story that reminded me of Tom Bombadil from ‘The Fellowship of the Ring’: “Let’s cut a tree, to make a home. A branch for spoons and other for the plates…”
Dave was the first to caption ala Chester Cornett: “wey make ur hows ahhom are heit cant B mad.”
Lastly, to award outstanding perseverance, an Honor Mention goes to J.C aka BLZeebub for contributing 14 entries. I want this person on my side in a fork fight.
I will contact the Honorable Mentionees and send you a small thank you for your efforts.
Thanks to all for participating and Happy New Year!
Yes, my darlings, we will have a prize for the best entry submitted for this Caption Challenge.
Sharpen your wits and enter** as many times as you wish. The Challenge ends on January 1, 2019 at 1500 hours in my time zone (North America EST).
I will select the winner and the two-pronged prize is a Lost Art Press bandana and a Chester Cornett button (pictured below) and Chris Schwarz will send these anywhere in the world.
The carpenters at the Heinzelmännchenbrunner in Köln.
While you work feverishly to finish a commission for a customer or gifts for family and friends do you sometimes find yourself giving the side eye to those acquiring gifts with the mere click of a button? Perhaps you are feeling a bit Heinzelmännchen-ish? Let me explain.
Although the full history of the Heinzelmännchen is lost in the mystery and mists of time the modern story of these gnome-like spirits was written almost 200 years ago. A popular version of the story is August Kopisch’s 1836 poem “Die Heinzelmännchen” with scheerenschnitt (scissor cuts) by Regina Gebhard.
Scheerenschnitt by Regina Gebhard.
As the story goes, the citizens of Cölln did not work. While they slept each night the little gnome-like Heinzelmännchen were the workers of the town. They cooked, baked, brewed and sewed. They were the butchers, sausage makers, masons and carpenters.
The townspeople woke each morning to clean homes and another day of leisure – some would say laziness.
Here is an English translation of Kopisch’s verse about the carpenters:
From Stein Collectors International.
The easy life of the carpenters and other residents of the town did not last, and you can blame that on the tailor’s nosy wife. She could not contain her curiosity and was determined to see who was making the wonderful garments for the tailor’s shop.
By Regina Gebhard.
Her plan was to throw peas over the floor to cause the Heinzelmännchen to slip and fall, and in the morning she would be she be able to see the little spirits sprawled about the floor. Let’s assume she threw dried peas on the floor and not proper British mushy peas.
As with most malfeasance her plan did not go well. Yes, the Heinzelmännchen did trip and fall and land in vats. They also became enraged, yelled and cursed and…they left!
Illustration by F. Gareis for a 1935 edition of August Kopisch’s poem.
The Heinzelmännchen disappeared and were not seen again. And you know what happened next: the townspeople had to work for themselves and their dream-like existence was over.
Fairy tales are supposed to scare us and convince us to always check under the bed before going to sleep (and don’t forget to make sure the closet door is closed). So, what do we learn from the Heinzelmännchen? In Thomas Keighley’s “The Fairy Mythology” from 1833 he concludes his telling of the Heinzelmännchen with:
”…and since that time the Heinzelmännchen have totally disappeared, as has been every where the case, owing to the curiosity of people, which has at all times been the destruction of so much of what was beautiful in the world.”
Carry on woodworkers! Although you may not see it, your efforts to carve a spoon, turn a bowl, make a chair or a heart-shaped box will be rewarded! The handle of the spoon will fit perfectly in the hand stirring the soup, the bowl will hold apples picked from an orchard, the chair will be passed down to great-grandchildren and the heart-shaped box will hold the small treasures of a loved one.
Postcard of the Heinzelmännchenbrunner in Köln. The tailor’s nosy wife is the figure at the top.
One last note on the Heinzelmännchen concerns the town of their origin. There is some back-and-forth on Cölln on the Spree River (now part of Berlin) or Köln (Cologne) on the Rhine. The good people of Köln built a fountain for the Heinzelmännchen, and I think that might settle the question.
You can read “Die Heinzelmännchen” (in German) here. English versions are available, and because I’m not your fairy godmother you can be a Heinzelmännchenn and look it up for yourself.
Yes, my darlings, we will have a prize for the best entry submitted for this Caption Challenge.
