Lost Art Press

Junk — And the Remedy

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It takes character and personality to determine actively to live and learn, to persevere in patience while experience accumulates and teaches us the things we want to know. There is no one who is born with an infallible taste and judgment or who can acquire it suddenly.

The mind and eyes need as much training as the craftsman’s hands if they are to learn to discriminate between the true and the sham, the thing that is beautiful and the thing that is flashy.

It is when the craftsman can combine all three things, the fine judgment of mind, hands, and eyes, that he produces work of the highest order.

— The Woodworker, August 1951

Adjusting H & R's

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I got a couple of hollows and rounds from a friend. They were made by Matt Bickford of M. S. Bickford Planes, and are sweet. Well except for one part of the plane. The back is showing some damage. I know it is customary to hit the back of the plane with a hammer to withdrawal the iron a tad. Just part of the adjusting method of this type of plane but I thought there has to be a better way. So I asked Matt Bickford who replied with the following

“I know of three ways to back the iron out and/or loosen the wedge.
1. Tap the iron all the way out and reset from the beginning. This is certainly not ideal for many reasons, but it works.

2. Tap the back of the plane with a hammer. It backs the iron out and/or loosens the wedge completely. This also is not ideal because you scar the back of plane as you know. You can definitely find examples of antiques like this around.

3. My favorite way: Hold the plane upside down with the toe facing away from you. Make sure you’re holding the wedge slightly with one hand. Slap the top of the plane in front of the wedge squarely against the top of your bench. A light tap will back the iron out and a sharp, abrupt smack will take the wedge out all together. If you hit it squarely you won’t mar the plane. Even if you miss square you won’t do much damage, if any.

This third way is very accurate. As you get better you’ll naturally start putting pressure on the wedge or iron sides to make it even more accurate. I even use this method sparingly on planes that I’m about to send out. You won’t hurt the plane. The only downside of this method is that the iron may not stay in place in the mortise. It may slide to to the side if you’re not careful, but you can overcome this.

I’ve included some pictures. Please let me know if this makes sense.”

Matt

The New Pioneers

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And it was with the industrial revolution that popular good taste disappeared. They had destroyed the craft and with it the standards and traditions built up over the centuries, and the craftsman was left, bewildered and defenceless, in an age that had no place for him.

Time brings its revenges. Today we are consciously, painstakingly, with infinite effort, trying to regain some of the good that was lost when the machine took over.

— The Woodworker, June 1951

The Flowering

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We must respect the growing things that give us pleasure if we are to learn to handle them properly, to prune in the right place, foster in the right place, train in the right place. The craftsman knows this. He knows that ignorance and impatience spell destruction, that in handling the living wood he needs to know its qualities and how to turn them to the best account, how to use his tools skillfully so that shapeliness will follow, and that an outburst of impatience will only land him into difficulties and possibly ruin the job.

It is a grand school of self-restraint.

— The Woodworker, June 1947

A Two-footed Business

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So many men to-day, doing work that is far removed from the making of things, the many professional workers, office workers, salesmen, factory workers – whose work may seem to be making but whose sole contribution is constant repetitive action in one infinitesimal part – lack contact with that real world in which a man can exercise his creative gifts.

They barely realise that such a world exists.

Theirs is the world of hard bargaining, of nimble wits or the routine job, which leave a great part of their natural human instincts unsatisfied, even though in all probability they do not know the reason for their perennial feelings of dissatisfaction and frustration.

— The Woodworker, January 1954