This morning I walked to a coffee shop in Port Townsend, Wash., to jolt myself awake. And as the barista handed me my cup he looked at my shirt.
“Is that ‘A’ for ‘anarchy?’” he asked.
“Why yes it is,” I replied, forgetting I was wearing an “Anarchist’s Tool Chest” shirt below my hoodie.
“It also could be for ‘anonymous,’” the barista added.
I wish.
The square on the cover of “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest,” is a cute little thing, and it shows up in surprising places, the wall of the Port Townsend School of Woodworking, Rwanda and in students’ tool boxes.
Yesterday, one of the students, Bill, pulled out a set of them that were graduated in size. All of them had different details and joinery. Very cool.
Whenever I teach a class, I insist on building the project with the students. No shortcuts. No asking assistants to do my chopping. No afterhours CNC.
I do this for several reasons.
1. I want to demonstrate that the techniques I use are genuine. It would be easy for me to say: Do this. And then nitpick the students as they try to do my bidding. Screw that. If I can’t build it in the time allowed, how can they?
2. It makes me a faster joiner. When I build the project alongside the students I have to push myself to build it to a high standard. I have to be much faster than they are. And I have to float around the room and assist them as I work. I have to be able to produce tight joints while totally distracted. I have to do it while I’m talking. Honestly, I should be paying the students for the training this gives me.
3. It shows the students that anyone can do this. One of the frequent criticisms of my work is that I am “just a journalist.” That I don’t have “traditional training.” And I am not a “professional woodworker.”
All that is true. I don’t deny it. And I don’t care.
If I can build this stuff without some paper certificate, then you can, too. You can build stuff to a much higher level than many professional woodworkers, many of whom have to rely on pocket screws and biscuits to make a living (and there is NOTHING wrong with that).
It is the amateur class that can afford to make furniture to a crazy high standard. So bring it. Whether you are “just a programmer,” “just a firefighter” or “just an engineer,” you can build stuff that will last “just 200 years.”
Here’s what stinks about teaching woodworking classes: You don’t have any time to take them yourself.
One of the classes at the top of my list is to take a carving class with Peter Follansbee, one of the authors of “Make a Joint Stool from a Tree.” Of all the carving traditions out there, I am most enamored with the simple geometry of the 17th-century stuff. And Peter is a riot.
When I was teaching up at the Connecticut Valley School of Woodworking, I saw that Peter was teaching a weekend class there. I got excited, until I saw the date: Sept. 14-15. I’ll be on a plane to England.
Stupid England.
Anyway, that doesn’t mean that you can’t go to the class. If you are at all interested in this topic, I can’t recommend anyone more highly. Details on the class here.
This week at The Woodwright’s School, we had a new “first” when it comes to making Anarchist’s Tool Chests.
All 10 students (plus the instructor) had their tool chest carcases assembled by the end of the day Tuesday, the second day of class.
To what do I attribute this success?
Good help.
Thanks to Bill Anderson of Edwards Mountain Woodworks and Megan Fitzpatrick of Popular Woodworking Magazine (not to mention Roy Underhill himself), we’ve been able to keep the students on the straight and narrow. Stopping trouble before it starts. Serving them tea. Rubbing their loins with the balms of forbidden trees. And whelming them – not underwhelming, not overwhelming.
Anyone who has taken a class at Roy Underhill’s The Woodwright’s School knows that you don’t bring a tape measure to class. It will almost surely be confiscated and returned to you at the end of the class.
Today, however, Megan Fitzpatrick needed to cut down some 12’-long poplar sticks for a tool chest class she’s assisting me with this week. And she really wanted to use a tape measure to mark out her cutlines.
So while Roy was stirring the glue pot…
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. You should see how she smuggled in a Japanese saw. Ye-ow.
