For a taste of what our two most recent titles offer, we’ve created PDF excerpts, which you are welcome to download.
The pdf for “The Intelligent Hand” by David Savage includes the table of contents, foreword, a look at some of the important players in the book, introduction, and four chapters: “For the Unbalanced Among Us,” “‘Oh, You’re Alright,'” “And Then There is Lumber” and “All Hail the 863.”
The pdf for “Shaker Inspiration” by Christian Becksvoort includes the table of contents, introduction and Chapter 5: On Design.
David Binnington Savage died on Friday, Jan. 18, after a hard-fought battle with cancer. David was an artist, writer, furniture maker and designer, and a father figure to me.
“Reluctant to give in, he fought to the end, and continued to talk of Rowden (his workshop and school),” his wife, Carol, wrote to me in an email. “A true artist to the core, he was even inspired by the new spring growth outside his window to draw a design in his notebook just days before passing.”
You can read more about David’s life and work in this profile by Kara Gebhart Uhl.
Basically, a mortice is a hole. With hand tools, you can chop it out with mortice chisels or drill out the waste and pare to the lines. But we use a morticing machine.
Joinery – that’s what this is about. Joints that hold components together. In this case, versions of one joint, the mortice and tenon. There are on this bench frame three different versions: stub mortices and tenons; through-wedged mortices and tenons; and through dry-tusk-wedged mortices and tenons. So that you can take this structure apart to move it, the tusk wedges are just friction fit, but the bench is solid as a rock when assembled.
To gain strength, we use wedges in two of the three joints. In the knockdown joint, the top of the mortice is angled – a wedge is driven in above it to hold the structure. But this is getting too complex too soon – let’s look at the simple through-wedged mortice-and-tenon joint.
Basically, a mortice is a hole. With hand tools, you can chop it out with mortice chisels or drill out the waste and pare to the lines. But we use a morticing machine, which saves lots of work. This is basically a drill bit that cuts slightly ahead of a square cutter that chops out the corners.
First let’s get into marking-out mode. This diagram gives you the idea. Mark distinctly both the component position and the mortice position. Mark the mortice with a mortice gauge, with the knives set 30mm apart. As always, mark from the face side of each component.
This is the type of drawing that I like to see every student make before making a joint – it helps one to think about what is being done, and to think about the mechanics of this joint. This is not just a peg in a hole with glue; it’s a mechanically effective joint that would hold up without any glue. The two small wedges turn the tenon into a dovetail, splayed wider at the outside than the inside. It’s as tough as old boots.
The completed mortices.
First make the hole (the mortice) then the plug (the tenon) to fill it. Our morticer cuts pretty cleanly; I like and use machines that save me time and do a better job than I could. Chopping out a mortice by hand is nice and sweaty work – and some of you will be happy doing it.
The tenon gets marked out with the same mortice gauge setup (30mm, marked from the face edge). We use a setup on the band saw to cut those tenon cheeks to exactly the right size. Because this joint gets cut a lot, a dedicated setup for it makes good sense.
Have a careful look at the drawing above right, noting the stop and spacer at the bottom of the page. This stop is simply a block of wood cramped to the band saw table. Next to it is 31.5mm-wide spacer against the fence. The fence has a stop at the end to prevent you from going too deep past the shoulders. The idea is this: After the first cut, you need to move the fence 31.5mm to make the second cut and get a 30mm tenon. Try it out with some scrap. Cut one tenon cheek, take the spacer out, move the fence then cut the second shoulder. Does this give you the tenon you want? If not, cut a new spacer, thicker or thinner, as needed.
Band saw setup for cutting tenons, plan view.
Make sure your blade is good and sharp and that you run slowly into the blade. Chunka, chunka, chunka….
We cut the tenon shoulders at the table saw. The blade height will be the same for all; the shoulder position will be measured for all and a stop set up probably off the end length. Tenon lengths will be different for the different kinds of joints.
David Savage, author of “The Intelligent Hand,” is in the hospital and not doing well. Before he leaves us, I want to get something off my chest.
I met David in person in 2014, but I had known about him and his work for many years. On this side of the Atlantic Ocean, David’s designs (which are incredible) never get a lot of press. But on occasion his articles about hand tools, business and the craft cross the sea.
His blunt, some would say “pungent,” tone rubs many people the wrong way. He rattles manufacturers when he states his opinion about tool steels (he hates A2), the state of tool manufacturing (fairly sorry) and honing guides (also not a fan).
I loved his columns in The Woodworker and Furniture & Cabinetmaking magazines. While I disagree with him on some points (and who cares about points?), I admire his courage to say what he thinks, which is based on long experience. He doesn’t equivocate. And he does not give a stuff (his words) whether you like it or not.
I was eager to meet him. When the chance arrived in 2014, I was teaching a tool chest class at Warwickshire College. David drove up from London to meet me for an early dinner. When I told the students and instructors my plans with David, they were quick to warn me. The short version: They’d heard through the grapevine that David is difficult, wickedly opinionated, pigheaded, even rude.
I walked to the restaurant and found David outside. We shook hands, and within five minutes I knew he was going to be a friend for life.
No matter what you’ve heard from others, David is a lovely man. Generous to a fault. Self-deprecating (also to a fault). Terribly honest. And has no secrets (that I could find).
While all that is important for you to know, I also want you to know that my relationship with David fixed me (I can’t think of a better word) in many ways as a human being.
Like David, my writing has always attracted strong detractors, ever since my first piece was published in my 8th-grade newspaper (a profile of a bunch of snobby homecoming queen candidates). Throughout my career, I’ve been baffled by the hate letters. It’s one of the big reasons I shut down my public email – I was weary of the steady diet of threats (mostly beatings, but one Klan death warning), threats of lawsuits and people who wished ill on me, my business, my family.
I’ve compared notes with fellow writers. Except for the political columnists, I have a way-above-average hate magnet. To be honest, this criticism eroded and sometimes shredded my psyche. I’m sure this was the intent of the detractors. And I was a loser in the battle.
David was the first writer I ever met who had the same hate magnet. But he was better than me. He did not brood. Instead, he carried on with his life and work. He didn’t back down, compromise his ideals or even mellow (“The Intelligent Hand” is evidence of that).
Having observed David for the last four years, I now have the courage to follow his example. His business and his creative spirit survived bankruptcy and becoming radioactive in his own trade. (Side note: David said that after his bankruptcy, one of the first people to call him with words of encouragement was John Brown.)
After spending 16 days with David in Devon, I rewrote “The Anarchist’s Design Book,” and it became a book with a much sharper edge. A book that was much closer to my thoughts as a woodworker. This summer, as I edited and designed “The Intelligent Hand,” I felt the last of my inhibitions fall away. (Thank you, David.)
Because of him, my next book might be a monster. And now I don’t give a stuff, either.
I don’t have the words to fully state my gratitude. My thanks will be in the form of my next book. I only hope he will be here to read it. Who knows? Crazier things have happened.
Richard recently finished reading David’s book, and wrote a review, which he posted on several woodworking forums. He writes:
” … The book is, listed here in no particular order, a mixture of biography, philosophical musings, design methodology built upon an artistic background, drawing as a means to express ideas and develop a personal library of forms, practical methods of working wood, client relations, tying up of loose ends, and so on. He is at turns chatty, reflective, opinionated, and explanatory, has his own way of working, generous to those that have helped or worked with him, and acknowledge his influences.”
And: ” … Do I agree with everything he says? No. Nor will most readers I suspect. On the other hand, he’s not afraid to say it as he sees it, and if you are challenged from time to time, which I was as a relatively experienced (but not well known) furniture designer maker it’s an opportunity to reflect and to evaluate what he says to see if he might be right, and I might be wrong, or vice-versa. If you are fairly new to the subject but possess a desire to develop your own point of view and philosophy, here is a book, along with other sources of information of course, that I think would be beneficial to read.”
You can read the entire review online at UKWorkshop (here) and WoodCentral (here).
You can read more about David’s book here, and more about Richard’s book here.
