Most of this trip to visit the H.O. Studley chest has been about documenting every tool in the chest. Not just the tools, but counting every single thing in every single drawer.
As we took the tools out and Don Williams was documenting the panel arrangement, he found that one of the ebony supports was damaged. “Damaged” ain’t the right word. In Arkansas, we would have said “it done blowed up.”
A quick review of our photo record from the last three years confirmed that this damage had occurred before our first encounter with the chest (cue the “whew,” and we all changed our underwear). With the permission of the owner of the chest, Don repaired the damage.
Some details for Studley nerds. The ebony support had been repaired twice before with PVA glue. PVA doesn’t adhere to ebony well because of its density, so it’s no surprise that the glue failed. Twice.
Don carefully removed the PVA by scraping and picking at it.
To re-glue the part, he prepared a solution of nine parts of liquid hide glue and one part glycerine from the drugstore. It did two things: increased the glue’s stickiness and reduced its tendency to fracture.
After applying the glue, he clamped the part together using teflon tape, wrapping and tying it around the part. Then he allowed it to dry overnight.
Yesterday, we also shot this short video on how Narayan Nayar goes about photographing every object in the chest. Good stuff.
The point of this blog entry is that you can sharpen a tool in a dozen different ways – your way, my way or the way of a dead guy. In short: Don’t be a dullard.
For the last few days I have immersed myself in the cutting edges made (presumably) by H.O. Studley, a Massachusetts piano maker who created a legendary wall-hanging tool chest. His tool chest is a testament to his skill. It is flawless in almost every way, from the design to the tools’ composition to the craftsmanship of the chest itself.
So what sort of sharpener was he?
To take a stab at this question, I spent most of today looking closely at every cutting edge in the chest. From what we know about this chest, the tools have been mostly on mothballs since Studley left the trade in the early part of the 20th century. So there is a chance that the edges on the tools are actually his edges.
I looked at every edge in the chest under high magnification and compared them all to one another. I suspect Studley was the last sharpener of many of the tools based on the consistency of many of the edges, from the augers to the planes to the chisels to the marking gauges. The pattern of scratches left on the tools was quite consistent. So if I were H.O. Studley, here is what I would tell you about my sharpening regimen.
1. I like a convex bevel. Nearly all of the edges I observed had a slightly convex bevel. A couple tools had evidence of a hollow grind in the middle that was in the process of being removed by sharpening the bevel (making it convex).
2. I like cambered edges on my planes. Nearly every edge of the plane blades (blocks, smoothers, jacks and try) had a cambered cutting edge. Many of the edges were significantly relieved at the corners.
3. I sharpen the entire bevel. Only one tool had any evidence of a micro-bevel.
4. I lap the backs of my irons and chisels. All of the tools in the chest have lapped backs. The lapping is not to a mirror sheen, but there is evidence of significant and continuous work on the backs.
5. I lift my plane irons slightly when I polish the backs. Over and over I saw evidence that the very tip of the back was polished to a higher degree than the metal behind the tip. And (using a machinist straightedge) I could see that the tip of the back was ever-so-slightly dubbed from this polishing. The polishing on the backs was heavier on the bevel-up planes than on the bevel-down planes.
You can take the above information and twist it however you like. Studley was a hand-sharpener. He sharpened the entire bevel. He did something similar to the ruler trick – though he probably didn’t use a ruler. He knew that he needed two intersecting surfaces to create a sharp and durable edge.
Or maybe it was someone in the Studley family who knew this and sharpened all the edges in the chest. Maybe it was the family’s lawyer who acquired the chest. Maybe it was some compulsive sharpener at the Smithsonian who ran wild through the chest while it was in the care of the institution.
The truth is, we don’t know. But we can guess. And my guess is that most of these edges were from the hand of H.O. Studley. And with the help of some incredible photography technology we’re using, you’ll be able to see this for yourself when we publish the book on H.O. Studley in the next two years.
— Christopher Schwarz
Note: All the photos with this blog entry were taken by Narayan Nayar.
Next week we will be able to sell the leather editions of “Mouldings in Practice” in our Lost Art Press store. There will be 26 to 30 copies available (depending on how many survive the binding process) and they will be $185 postage paid to any address in the United States.
The books were delayed by the leather supplier – Ohio Book said it took three weeks to secure the brown leather we use for these books. I suspect a bovine rebellion was the real cause.
So for those of you who have itchy mouse fingers, you can relax this weekend. Monday will be the earliest they will be available. As always, it is first-come, first-serve on leather editions.
So while I’m explaining myself, here is a quick update on some other projects we are working on:
“To Make as Perfectly as Possible” aka, the Andre Roubo translation. This book is entirely in my hands right now. The translators have done their job. We have paid an obscene amount of money to get every single plate digitized. The essays are complete. I’m the problem.
“By Hand & Eye” by George Walker and Jim Tolpin. This has been edited and flowed into the InDesign layout files. All the images are digitized. I’ve edited it once. But once again, I am the impediment here. I need to get the design work underway.
Audiobook of “The Joiner & Cabinet Maker” as read by Roy Underhill. This is fully recorded and about 25 percent edited. What’s the holdup? It might surprise you that it is me.
Other books that are a little further out:
“Virtuoso” or the H.O. Studley book: Our team is going back to visit the tool chest again next month to take the final photographs. Then the real work begins.
“Furniture of Necessity:” This is my own book. I’ve shelved all my writing projects until I get caught up on editing the titles above.
“Campaign Furniture:” Ditto.
All our other titles are still being written by their authors – except one. That one is being designed right now in hopes of getting it out by the end of the year. More on that title as we get things firmed up.
Clear your calendar, save your pennies and make plans to attend the Handworks event May 24-25 in Amana, Iowa. Lost Art Press will be there with books, tool chests and T-shirts.
If you haven’t heard about the Handworks event, head directly to handworks.co and read up. It’s OK, I’ll wait right here while you do that.
…hmmm….
And hey, what do you think? Pretty cool. It’s an amazing list of hand-tool-only vendors. A great barn. No admission. And there is a brewery nearby. What more do you need?
Be certain to register that you will attend by sending an e-mail to register@handworks.co. There are directions and details on the Handworks site.
This week I have been taking a fair amount of flinged poo – both private poo and public poo – about my involvement with Don Williams’s forthcoming book “Virtuoso: The Toolbox of Henry O. Studley.”
The flinged feces goes something like this: As the author of “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest,” which argues for a simple and flexible chest, aren’t you a hypocrite for getting the masses excited about a chest that espouses an opposite viewpoint?
The Studley toolchest is an icon of our craft for several reasons. It is the Farrah Fawcett poster-child for the wall-hanging tool chest set. It is a socially productive application of obsessive behavior. It is, on one level, tool pornography. And it is a touchstone to a different kind of tool chest that was made by patternmakers.
If Studley and I were to sit down and have a beverage, I think we would agree on some things and disagree on others. He and I see eye-to-eye on the fact that you should have a limited set of quality tools – the best you can afford. We agree that all these tools should be in a chest that is easily accessible from the bench. And we would agree that making your own tools – or modifying stock tools – is good practice.
Where we seem to disagree is on the way we achieve these goals. Studley fitted every tool into a single-purpose slot. Studley put every tool in its place. And with great gothic style. I prefer the flexible school – I want my tools to be “free range,” for lack of a better expression.
Perhaps our personality differences could be summed up like this: When growing up, Studley probably preferred that his peas and gravy remained separate. Me, I like a melange of peas, gravy, bread crusts, cranberry jelly and bits of bird flesh in every fork-full.
But despite these small differences, I actually feel a kinship with the man. I’m not a mason. I’m not a piano-maker. I am not as nimble (more on this later). But we both like sharp tools that are made well and feel good in the hand.
