I get asked regularly for permission to use my plans and writings for the following things:
The basis for a woodworking class.
The foundation for a presentation to a woodworking club.
To make a commercial product to sell – a Roorkee chair, workbench or campaign chest, for example.
My answer to these questions is always: absolutely. Everything I publish is free for you to use for classes, in your club or even to make a commercial piece of woodworking to sell.
In fact, the only thing I object to is when someone violates my copyright by reproducing an entire book or DVD then reselling it as their own work or giving it away on a torrent site. That’s just theft. (It’s uncommon in the woodworking business, but it happens.)
To be honest, little that I do (or any other woodworking author, for that matter) is original. My work is inspired by old books, new books, old work and new. If my work inspires you to teach others about it, I’m happy. If it makes you want to share it with your club, ditto. And if it helps you make something you can sell, that’s great, too.
So please, take these ideas. Use them to inspire others to pick up the tools and build.
I’ve never been a fan of battery-powered woodworking tools – except for a begrudging acceptance of cordless drills. (And only because of their clutch technology.)
Tool manufacturers, however, have been trying to introduce cordless everythings – routers, sanders, jigsaws, nailers, miter saws, circular saws – into furniture-making shops since batteries were invented.
Heck, one year Black & Decker came out with both a battery-powered tape measure and a C-clamp. I tested both. Both broke immediately.
For the most part, woodworkers have resisted battery tools. Here’s why.
When a battery reaches the end of its cycle life and cannot hold a charge, you are faced with two expensive solutions: buy a new OEM battery or replace the tool. You might think these options have different price points. But typically, they don’t. Try buying a 12-volt battery for a 10-year-old cordless drill. It is usually cheaper to buy a new drill.
Here’s a typical equation: Replace my 14.4-volt batteries for my Bosch drill at $159.99? Or buy a new Bosch 18-volt drill for $10 less? (Note: The prices at Amazon might will change.)
(Yes, I know you can have the battery rebuilt or buy a gray-market battery; I have yet to be satisfied with those products.)
My skepticism on battery tools extends beyond the economics. At Popular Woodworking Magazine we were deluged every year with all manner of battery tools to test. In general, battery tools are built to a lower manufacturing standard than their corded brethren. I can say this after burning up a fair number of cordless doo-dads during typical woodworking operations, such as drilling a 3/4” dog hole in yellow pine.
In use, battery tools are generally less powerful. And when you need them, the batteries always seem to be discharged – so you need to wait while they recharge.
And that’s why I usually recommend new woodworkers buy corded tools or sweat-driven hand tools. I have the first corded drill, jigsaw and circular saw I bought in the mid-1990s. They are still going strong. I also quite like my meat-powered hand drills, braces and coping saw, which have been going strong since my grandfather was in college.
So why do I own a battery-powered drill? The multiple speeds and the clutch. Craftsman came out with a corded drill with these features, and I loved the heck out of it. Sadly, these features are rarely put on a corded drill.
Last caveat: I’m not a contractor or a carpenter. Battery tools might make sense to those professions, but I can’t say.
I know that this blog entry will tick off some people because of this first line: We have someone clean our house.
I know, I know. It’s bourgeoise. But it’s the nicest anniversary present my wife and I ever gave one another. Nothing says love like: “Baby, you never have to clean a toilet again.”
Anyway, the woman who cleans our house showed up this morning and wouldn’t look me in the eye. In fact, she skittered out of the room if I entered.
So I looked down. Is my dork hanging out?
No. Good. Did we forget to pay her? Did a cat leave a special, soupy present for her to clean?
No matter. I gathered up my stuff and headed to the lumberyard to get some oak. On the way home I figured it out: We have three coffins sitting around, two of which have giant burn marks in the area where your head goes.
That probably would freak some people out.
Wally the cat, however, seems fine with the coffins.
Jennie Alexander requested that I show a photo of her bench hook (aka planing stop) that is made with a bit of saw steel. If you look close you can see the mortise she cut in front of the wooden pillar to prevent someone getting bit by the “toothy critter.”
Earlier this year I visited Jennie in Baltimore to interview her for an upcoming feature article I am writing about her life’s work – green woodworking and chairmaking. We also discussed some upcoming projects between her and Lost Art Press. More on that as it develops.
It is difficult to overstate Jennie’s influence on the craft. “Make a Chair from a Tree” – the first woodworking book published by The Taunton Press – changed the trajectory of many people’s lives, leading them into a lifetime of building things with their hands.
The chair that is the subject of that book is something both ancient and thoroughly modern. It is mixed with equal parts traditional joinery and Jennie’s personal approach to the craft and design. And while I have built many chairs during the last 20 years and sat in hundreds more made by fellow woodworkers, Jennie’s chair is the most perfect and delightful one I have ever encountered.
It is lightweight, strong, incredible comfortable and beautiful to behold.
When you sit in her chair, only one thing flashes in your mind: I must make one of these.
