“Given the teeming riches of the whole earth to play with, brought to us by the modern enterprise of science and commerce, we tend to leave neglected the possibilities of our own hands and brains. It is so easy not to use them when so much is done for us. But the more we develop our own powers of doing and creating, of training our hands and our minds, the more sturdily do we set our faces against being mere ciphers and not men.
“We may not have a success that can be measured in terms of money, but we shall find our own fulfillment in terms of living.”
— The Woodworker, Chips from the Chisel, 1937, page 255
Having tools does not make you an anarchist. It’s what you do with those tools that is the proof.
I want to warn you before you read another word, this blog entry is not specifically about woodworking. I hesitate to even write it. But I feel the need to explain myself a bit, and I promise to keep it brief. I also promise that I won’t stray into these waters much in the future.
There are many flavors of anarchists out there. My flavor is Individualistic Anarchism, specifically “aesthetic anarchism.” What does that mean to me?
I intensely dislike large institutions: governments, religious institutions and large corporations. But it would be an error to say I am not political, spiritual or capitalistic. It is my belief that institutions are the cause of most problems – not the solution.
I dislike many laws – gun laws, drug laws, sex laws to name a few. But mostly I dislike how laws are used to enslave us – they favor corporations over individuals, and the continual growth of government and its encroachment on our lives.
I don’t vote. I don’t go to church. I don’t employ people – and I never will. I view rent as theft. When I buy things, I always try to buy from individuals – the maker if possible. When I have to buy something manufactured, I buy from companies that aren’t exploiters. I buy Pointer jeans from Tennessee. My jacket was made by Schott in New Jersey. My wool sweater was knit in Ireland.
But most of all, I like to make the things I need. I do all our cooking, and every night (except pizza night) I cook dinner from scratch. We buy our meat from the butchers, the Finke family. The produce? The Finkes grow some of their own; the rest I try to buy from Findlay market or Loschavios. I like to keep everything very personal.
Making furniture for yourself and others is indeed a radical act. It removes that part of your life from the continuous cycle of purchasing, consuming and repurchasing. The Morris Chair I am sitting in will be the last easy chair I’ll ever need to build. And it was my hope when I wrote “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest” that once you saw that this was true, it might seep into other areas of your life, like it has into mine. You might even quit your corporate job.
Which brings up money. Isn’t it difficult to walk away from a corporate job and a steady paycheck? Yeah, it’s like trying to force yourself to dive into Lake Michigan in February. But if Lucy and I can do it, I think many families can – if they are willing to eschew debt.
Lucy works only part-time as a writer, and I have just this silly little business – no trust fund here. How do we do it? We don’t have any debt. Zero dollars – zero cents. Once I realized how much I had to work to service our mortgage, student loans and car payments, we shifted every resource to pay off everything. In May 2008 I paid off our last debt – our mortgage. And that’s when anything became possible.
“We shall find, therefore, that it is not in the realization of these ends, but in the struggle to attain them, that anarchism is of service to society.”
— Eunice Minette Schuster, “Native American Anarchism,” page 11
“Let us hope that the spirit of craftsmanship is strong enough in us to enable us to hand down to posterity things which will be considered worthy of the 20th century.”
Several readers have asked where I’ll be teaching classes in 2012 on how to build a tool chest, so here is an update.
A couple notes on the class itself. If you don’t like cutting dovetails, you might want to reconsider. A good chunk of the class is a Bataan Death March of sawing and chopping. But by golly, you will be able to cut dovetails in a coma when it’s over.
It’s absolutely OK if this tool chest class is your first project. You’ll do fine.
If the class is filled up and you really want to attend, please sign up for the waiting list. Classes always have “churn.” Some people drop out because of a family event (marriage, surgery, divorce, graduation etc.). Others misread the class description (“I thought it was the ‘Anachronist’s Tool Chest,’ and I wear my +1 chainmail to bed”). So if you get on the waiting list for the class, there is a good chance you’ll get in.
And lastly, you will have a choice as to which chest you build: the full-size chest illustrated in “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest,” or the traveling-size chest I posted in this blog entry.
So here’s the line-up:
Feb. 20-24, 2012, at The Woodwright’s School. Roy’s calendar shows slightly different days, but he hasn’t updated his online calendar yet.
July 30-Aug. 3, 2012, at Kelly Mehler’s School of Woodworking. This class is listed as full, but get on the waiting list if you are serious. Trust me on this. “I thought it was ‘The Atavist’s Tool Chest.’”
And if your year is already full, I’m working on my 2013 schedule and already have plans to teach this class in Connecticut and am negotiating with some chaps/blokes in Australia.
