Woodworking Classes - Lost Art Press

Debasing the Dovetails

Posted on August 6, 2013 by Lost Art Press

The real challenge in teaching a class on “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest” is this: How can I make woodworkers cut dovetails as fast (and accurate) as possible?

When I first began teaching tool chest classes, we weren’t able to glue up the carcases until late, late Wednesday night or Thursday. Then it was a mad rush to get the rest of the chest completed.

Since then I have learned to put away the “encouragement whip” and get out the “punishment whip.” (I wonder why women rarely take my classes?)

Today – the second day of the course at the Connecticut Valley School of Woodworking – we have a third of the 15 chests glued up. The rest will be glued up on the third day before lunch. This is a frickin’ cake walk.

What has changed? Well, to be honest, I am a poor teacher at best. Honest and true. But I have learned a few tricks from some fantastic teachers. Here are two of them.

1. Teach the information is small, manageable bites. Send students back to their benches to perform one operation. Repeat. This is from Trevor Smith, a high school physics teacher in Troy, Mich. The dude is an amazing teacher. I watched him teach for one day and learned more about teaching that day than in any other time period.

2. If you say it will happen, it will happen. Advice from Doug Dale, one of the outstanding assistants and teachers at Marc Adams School of Woodworking. If you set the goal for the day as “you will finish this particular operation,” then – surprise – the students achieve that goal. Weird.

And there is one thing I bring to the table: debasing the dovetail joint.

I do not treat this joint as a holy relic – St. Christopher’s duodenum. It’s a mechanical joint that is easy to cut if you break it down into small bites (thanks again, Trevor). None of the operations in cutting a dovetail is hard. The only thing that is difficult is being consistent with every operation.

With five chests together today, and all of them looking really, really good, I feel justified in drinking a beer.

— Christopher Schwarz

A Dumb Way to Run a Class

Posted on August 4, 2013 by Lost Art Press

Sunday about 7 p.m. is a good time to give up.

After two full days of sawing, planing, hammering and gluing parts together, the 14 students in this Six-board Chest class at the Connecticut Valley School of Woodworking laid down their tools. They swept up their shavings. They quietly loaded their chests into their cars.

Some classes end with exultation. Other with exhaustion. This one ended (I hope) with a little of both.

The pace of the class was particularly brutal. I was determined to cram in 400 years of history on the form of the “boarded chest” into the class time. And I wanted us to start with long boards that we had to knock down to size (by hand) and glue up into panels using jointer planes and spring joints.

Oh, and one more thing: There was no predetermined design for the chest we were going to build.

That was a good thing and a bad thing. Bad: Everyone had to think through his design and how it related to his material. This made every step forward a bit of a slog with 14 different answers to 14 questions.

Good: No two chests were the same. Not even close.

In fact, the chest that I built was not even the chest I set out to build when the class commenced on Saturday morning. Instead, I followed the needs of the material and ended up with a chest I am quite happy with. I’ll finish it up when I return home and post photos here on the blog. It’s stripped down, simple and appealing – to me at least.

As the students left – all a bit too weary – I could see that I had pushed things a little too far this time. It probably should have been a three-day class. And we should have used pre-cut stock. And worked to a predetermined design.

And… maybe not. I love to be dead tired when I have earned it.

— Christopher Schwarz

6 Boards, 2 Days, What’s the Problem?

Posted on August 4, 2013 by Lost Art Press

We’re building 15 six-board chests this weekend at the Connecticut Valley School of Woodworking. But after the first day, all we have to show for our labor are six boards.

One of the students asked me: “Are we going to be able finish these chests tomorrow?”

“Nah,” I said.

This was the wrong answer. So I changed my tune. “Of course we are!” I replied.

Getting six good boards is half the battle with these chests, and we fought that one tooth and nail today. Well, there were no nails used (that’s tomorrow), though some of the boards looked a little toothy after flattening them with fore planes and jointer planes.

So somehow we have to get these chests built in one day. My usual solution is to do what the Kentucky Legislature used to do when they had to pass a budget by midnight. One of the legislators would stand up on his desk, take down the wall clock and turn the hands back by three hours.

Problem solved.

Other possible solutions: nail guns, hot-melt glue and a Bedazzler.

Lucky for me I have my secret weapon with me: Carl Bilderback. Yup, Carl drove all the way out here from Indiana to assist me with this class plus a tool chest class in the coming week. He’s been helping diagnose problems and giving lessons on stock prep and edge jointing.

Everyone needs a Carl. He’s the best kind of assistant: Always willing to lend a hand or offer an additional viewpoint to mine.

OK, to sleep. And dream of chests.

— Christopher Schwarz

One Opening in an ‘Anarchist’s Tool Chest’ Class

Posted on July 22, 2013 by Lost Art Press

Because a student had to cancel, there is one spot open in my tool chest class on Aug. 5-9 at the Connecticut Valley School of Woodworking.

This is the only opening in a tool chest class until 2014 I believe.

If you can ditch work that week, contact the school’s director, Bob Van Dyke, via e-mail or phone: bobvandyke@sbcglobal.net or 860-729-3186. During this class we’ll be building the chest out of some outstanding Eastern white pine – Bob is a wiz at finding beautiful stock.

And we will be eating at Frank Pepe’s pizza. A lot. Perhaps until I am sick.

— Christopher Schwarz

French Oak Roubo Project: Day 4

Posted on July 18, 2013 by Lost Art Press

I have never counted how many benches I have brought into the world, either through my hands, by teaching classes or writing books.

No matter what the number is, I can tell you that this bench will be my favorite. Not because the design is perfect – it’s a direct copy of A.-J. Roubo’s bench in plate 11 of “L’Art du menuisier.” And not because of the material – we’re using 18^th-century French oak. It’s a great design and it’s great material, but the reason I love the unfinished bench that is now hanging out the back of my Nissan Xterra is because of the people I built it with.

Woodworking is a solitary endeavor for the most part. So getting to build a workbench with a bunch of guys, day in and day out, was new. I didn’t have to teach people how to cut a mortise, a tenon or a dovetail. There was no hand-holding.

And together we brought 16 benches into the world. What kind of designs? Who cares?

What height? Don’t care.

What kinds of vises? Lots.

The joinery? All kinds. All good.

Look, based on my writing you might assume that I like one kind of bench over all others. That’s not exactly true. My favorite kind of bench is the one that gets used.

When we kicked off this French Oak Roubo Project on Sunday night, I made a pledge to those participants who might use their bench as merely a decorative object (kitchen island? Dining table?). I vowed to sneak into the house and leave a flaming bag of poo on the benchtop.

Now, I’m joking, of course. I don’t think I could actually poop into a bag. (I haven’t tried since I was in Cub Scouts.) And I don’t think it would be all that flammable.

But still, the point I’m trying to make is this: Even if it’s a hollow-core door on sawhorses, it’s an awesome bench if things get built on it. There are other designs that might make it easier for you to hold the work, but if your hollow-core door inspires you to build birdhouses or highboys, then it’s a good bench.

In fact, the only thing that sucks about this class is that I have to leave it a day early. I managed to cut my sliding dovetails (yes, by hand) and rough out the through-mortises (yes, with a drill), but I didn’t get the whole thing assembled.

But I will.

When it’s done, I know that some people will wail about it. I will not add finish to it. I will tooth its benchtop. The leg vise will not have a parallel guide or a garter. And I’m going to use a toothed metal planing stop, which will surely mark my workpieces and utterly destroy my handplanes.

Despite all that, I will build a lot of cool s#$t on it.

— Christopher Schwarz