Wally hopes you can join us on Saturday, Nov. 26, from 10 a.m.-5 p.m. for our holiday open house (at which you might consider giving him a cat treat or 10). We’ll have available our full line of Lost Art Press books, Crucible Tools and apparel, including new baseball caps – khaki with the English square (from the cover of “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest” cover) embroidered in black. We’ll also have a selection of “blems” – slightly damaged books – at half price (blems are, as always, cash only please).
Plus, we’ll have a special gift for the first 100 or so visitors – a gum eraser stamped with the Lost Art Press logo (I’ll post pictures when I have those in the shop). And if you’re 21 or older, do ask to see the clock. (We’ll also have treats and beverages for those who eschew alcohol, of course).
We’ll be happy to raise a glass with you, and an answer your woodworking questions – or even demonstrate any techniques that are flummoxing you (preferably before raising too many glasses). And I believe we’ll have a special guest demonstrator, too – more on that to come!
Because of the extreme financial pressures of the pandemic unprecedented demand from readers, we have decided to offer naming rights to several of the valuable components of our business. With one small payment, you can put your product or service front and center with dozens and dozens of Lost Art Press visitors every year.
Here are a few of the opportunities available.
The Lost Art Press Sanitary Room Until now, we have called our bathroom the “Klaus Skrudland Memorial Sh*$-a-teria.” But seeing as Klaus is not dead, we have decided to offer up naming rights to this essential visitor area in the Lost Art Press headquarters.
What you get: Your company’s name or logo hand-painted on the frosted glass window of our bathroom. Plus, whenever someone in the building says they have to “go to the bathroom,” we will instead say, “I have to go to the Paycor Room to Make a Convenient Paycheck Deduction” (just an example).
What your donation pays for: Hand soap that Megan is not allergic to. New batteries for Mr. Chirpy, our electronic parrot.
Lost Art Press Kitchen Every visitor compliments our tidy kitchen, and woodworking students spend their mornings and afternoons here with coffee and pastries. Currently we have our Lost Art Press logo painted on the floor. But if you are the winning bidder….
What you get: Your company’s name or logo hand-painted on the concrete floor. Plus, any time we offer coffee to visitors we will say, “Would you like a cup of Hot Synergy from our altafiber chamber?”
What your donation pays for: Lots of coffee. Chris’s toothpick collection.
The Electric Horse Garage Yes, you can name the entire Lost Art Press machine room.
What you get: Your company’s name or logo hand-painted on the shop door. Plus, any time we turn on a machine, we will say, “That’s the feeling of power you get from a Dr. Shoal’s Corn Scraper” (again, just an example).
What your donation pays for: New carbide inserts for our jointer. Safety Police jumpsuits.
The Shop Cat Bean eats a lot. And so we have decided to offer naming rights to this feline three-legged ambassador. Almost every visitor to our shop is greeted by a sniff from this friendly guy.
What you get: We will shave your logo into his substantial side meat. Also, people say the cat’s name hundreds of times a day. Imagine the brand burnishing that will occur every time we say “Stop licking your butt, Mr. Vlasic Kosher Dill Gherkins!” Or when people get their photo taken with the cat and use the hashtag #SummersEvePuss.
What your donation pays for: New keys to the cellar. A vegetable plate at Christmas.
You don’t see many “unboxing” videos of our books and tools on the internet. And that is 100 percent by design.
We put a lot of thought into our packaging. But our goal is to get the product to you using the minimum amount of packaging. And with most – if not all – of the packaging being recyclable.
Elaborate packaging is disgusting to me (I tried to come up with a nicer word than “disgusting,” but I thought of only meaner ones). Not only does it waste resources and labor, but it lays bare the manufacturer’s priorities – marketing instead of meat.
Instead of making fancy embossed boxes tied with ribbons and other hoo-hah, I would rather do one of two things:
Lower the price of the tool/book.
Improve the quality of the book/tool.
I’ve had to endure a lot of fancy unboxing ceremonies (we own Apple products, and I have a Hamilton watch). And every time I open one of these crazy boxes I think: What a waste. Then I have to disassemble the recyclable parts from the stuff that has to go in the trash (really, a cotton cloth box for the instruction manual?).
Usually my disgust subsides if the product works well. But recently I bought a new ultrasonic cleaner (it’s the only thing that will remove the sawdust from the crevices of my eyeglasses). The packaging was exactly like opening an Apple computer. Crazy boxes inside of boxes with elaborate cord wraps and whatnot.
The product is a stinker. It couldn’t clean a turd if I loaned it a toothbrush.
I do what I can to avoid the mushy-mushy concepts and questions that are posed by the thinkers in our craft. You know: art vs. craft, sawdust is therapy, what is the saw nib for?
But I do have some answers to the practical questions that beginners ask during classes.
Q: Why do you sign your work? Isn’t that prideful?
I suppose my answer comes from my training as a journalist. Traditionally, your published writing remained unsigned until you “earned” a byline. As a cub reporter, you were first tested with writing unsigned news “briefs” or obituaries until you proved yourself responsible enough.
After you earned a byline, it was a mark of responsibility. If you screwed something up, your name was on it. So everyone in the community knew that you, Chris Schwarz, couldn’t get your facts straight, or spell the mayor’s name correctly.
That’s why I sign my work – unobtrusively. If something ever goes wrong with the chair, cabinet or chest of drawers, then I’m the one who deserves the blame. And I’m the one who has to fix it.
Q: Why do you stamp your tools with your mark? Do you not know your own tools? Aren’t you putting yourself on par with the true maker of the tool?
Again, some history. In many apprentice systems, your first purchase was your name stamp. Not to stamp the furniture you built, but to stamp your tools. Many woodworkers had their tools insured through benevolent societies. And to qualify for the insurance, your tool had to be stamped.
Some more recent history. When my parents sent me to Jesus Camp, my mom sewed my name into all my clothes so that when I lost them, they came back to me.
If you work with others or you teach or attend classes, you need to mark your tools. Every class I have been a part of ends with someone taking the wrong tool home or leaving a tool behind.
Q: Why do you modify your tools? Doesn’t that hurt their value?
This question comes mostly from tool collectors. And I suppose they are correct. Dead stock tools are going to sell for more than modified ones.
For me, however, a tool is worthless if it doesn’t work well. So I am happy to file the metal bits, carve the wooden bits and upgrade the innards in any way to improve the tool’s working characteristics.
I have no quibbles with tool collectors – they are preserving tools that will be used by future generations. That’s a noble thing. But tool collecting and woodworking are two different avocations. And I’m a user.
The following is excerpted from David Finck’s “Making & Mastering Wood Planes.” No matter what sort of handplane you use, this book is perhaps the best guide available to understanding, tuning and using these tools at a high level.
Written by a graduate of the College of the Redwoods (now The Krenov School), “Making & Mastering Wood Planes” is ostensibly about the laminated handplanes that James Krenov made famous in the 20th century. But Finck decided to probe far deeper into the topic – so much so that this book is actually an excellent primer on handwork itself.
Use a length of 5/8-inch-diameter brass rod for the head. If ordering through an industrial supply catalog, remember that the minimum length will provide for many hammer heads. Smaller lengths may be found at a hardware store or machine shop. Saw off a segment 2-1/2 inches long, face the ends with a sander, and then round the sharp edges.
Now the trick is to drill a perfectly centered hole crosswise through the rod. To do this, make a simple fixture from a squared and trued length of hardwood that’s approximately 12 inches long x 1-3/4 wide x 1 inch thick. Divide the stick in half with two connected lines on a face and an edge, then mark the center of those lines (4–77). Drill a 5/8-inch hole through the mark on the face. Then insert the brass rod so that the ends protrude from the fixture the same amount. The rod must be a snug fit. If it is too loose, shim it with a wrap of tape.
Chuck a 3/8-inch brad-point drill bit in the drill press. Lay the fixture on the drill-press table, edge up, and use the point to perfectly center the bit at the centerpoint on the line. Clamp the fixture securely. Drill down to the rod, but not into it. Replace the bit with a 3/8-inch metal-cutting bit and drill through the rod (4–78).
Make a handle from a 12-inch-long x 1-inch-wide x 1-inch-thick stick of tough, springy hardwood such as hickory, ash, or oak. Shape one end to a 3/8-inch-diameter to fit the hammer head. The stick is longer than the handle will be, so the waste end may be clamped in a vise while the handle is worked with a spokeshave. Lay out the shape of the handle on one face; the shape should taper to 3/8 inch at the hammer-head end. Saw out the shape on the band saw, remaining outside the lines. Lay out a second set of lines on the sawn face, again tapering to 3/8 inch at the head end, and saw those as well (4–79). If dealing with gentle curves, place the con-cave surface down, to prevent the stock from rocking, while the second set of lines is being sawn.
Use a spokeshave to shape the handle (4–80). Form the 3/8-inch-square end of the handle into an octagon and then, with very fine cuts, shape it into a circle. Try the hammer head until it just gets started on the handle. Twist the head back and forth to burnish the handle and you will see exactly where to remove wood to improve the fit. Fit the handle snugly through the head and let it extend about 1/8 inch beyond. Simply trim off any excess if it goes through further. Cut the handle to length and trim up the end.
Next, saw a narrow kerf in the thin end of the handle, for wedging the hammer head in place. Saw it in line with, and 1/8 inch shy of, the full diameter of the hammer head. The kerf is visible only at the end when the hammer head is installed. It is difficult to clamp the tapered shape of the handle and make the cut with a handsaw, so use the band saw, running the handle against a straight piece of stock. Close off the throat plate of the band saw by sawing into another piece of wood that will act as a temporary table (4–81).
Now prepare a low-angled wedge from some 3/8-inch-wide stock. The wedge should take up most of the length of the kerf, without bottoming, before it jams. Install the hammer head, squeeze a little glue into the saw kerf, and tap the wedge into place. When the glue has dried, carefully pare the end of the handle and wedge, leaving them both a bit proud of the hammer head (4-82)[top].