Katherine has made a big batch of soft wax during her break from art school. The wax is $24 for an 8-ounce jar. Soft wax is great for finishing the interior of woodwork, as a coat over milk paint or a way to add some luster to an aged finish.
Katherine cooks up the wax in the machine room using a waterless process. It’s packaged in glass jars to eliminate any chance of rust. And has a coated metal lid (also to reduce rust).
We also use it on tools and (thanks to a tip from a reader) leather shoes.
You can purchase the wax here through Katherine’s etsy store.
Editor’s note: Thanks again to everyone who entered our True Tales of Woodworking Contest, in celebration of the release of Nancy Hiller’s new edition of “Making Things Work: Tales of a Cabinetmaker’s Life.” We enjoyed reading every one of the entries – so much so that we’re sharing some of them here and some of them on Nancy’s blog at Making Things Work – so be sure to tune in there, too! And congrats again to our winner, Bruce Chaffin. — Fitz
p.s. Jim is a professional furniture maker who lives in England, hence the British spellings.
It’s fair to say that it would not have been my first job of choice as a full-time woodworker. For the past 25 years I had run my own architectural business designing and supervising the refurbishment of whatever jobs came through the door – houses, pubs, hotels.
Over the next few years I became despondent with the standard of work contractors, particularly finishing contractors, were presenting me with. I felt I could do better. I was a keen amateur woodworker and had a lifelong desire to work with my hands. As a result, I took part time classes over several years ending up with a City and Guilds in Furniture and Cabinet Making. The property crash of 2009 forced me to rethink my working life and I became a full-time cabinet maker.
Some years before in my previous life I had designed and supervised the refurbishment of a large Victorian house. The work was carried out and all went well enough for my clients and I to become and remain friends.
They had recently approached me to design a large set of shelving units. They wanted an irregular design, each space to house various pictures, books, and artefacts, painted rather like a ‘Mondrian ‘ painting, with the front lipping picked out in a different colour.
They wanted to know if I knew anyone who could make such a unit. I hesitated but told them that I would be that person – as I already knew the house and we shared an aesthetic. I went to see them and looked at the large living room with very high ceilings and two imposing alcoves either side of a marble fireplace and I felt I could give then what they wanted.
Measurements were taken, sketch designs and costings provided and the approval to go ahead was given.
I did not have the luxury of a workshop at this time but fortunately the ‘site’, the living room where the units were required, was empty with bare floor boards. I measured and drew out the units very accurately and had all of the timber cut to size.
This was my first job for a paying client. It not only had to look good but had to work. The units were over two meters wide each and had been designed to appear random but were in fact strategically sized to provide each shelf with adequate support.
I had worked out that working alone I would have to build the units and then get them into position. There was sufficient room on the floor to build the main outer frame and cross brace it for lifting.
The units were to sit on top of the existing high Victorian skirting boards. I had devised a system of timber rails which were fixed to the existing skirting boards but extended out from the alcoves into the room either side of the fireplace on supports.
The rails were lined up with the top of the skirting boards and were in fact in two pieces – one of which would remain as a permanent support beneath the shelving, the extension being removable once the unit was in place. The extended rails into the room would allow me to work on the units and then slide them back into the alcove without having to lift the finished unit which would be too heavy. I was alone in the house most of the time and it occurred to me for the first time that I could be at risk.
I installed the rails to one alcove to allow sufficient floor space to build the first unit. I laid the pieces out which I had previously spent a whole day sorting. It was like a giant jigsaw. I worked out the minimum pieces I would have to put in place to allow me to lift it without distorting.
Once these were fixed together, I attempted a lift. It was heavier than I could have imagined. I had also made it upside down. It had to not only be lifted, but rotated.
Whilst looking for inspiration and resting my arms there was a knock at the front door. I opened it and nearly fainted. There before me stood a ghost from 25 years ago. A teacher whom I had feared most of my life at school. He had aged, like one of those e- fit police photographs but was still recognisable to me. He obviously had no idea who I was. I was just one of the many children he had no doubt caused untold misery to in a bygone age of stricter schooling.
He had ‘just popped in with the decorator to see how things were going’. Apparently and unknown to me he was my client’s father. “Are you alright ?” he asked as I must have looked pale with shock. At that precise moment I didn’t know whether to tell him about my dilemma with the shelves or punch him. I decided on the former.
At this point two young decorators appeared behind him. Getting over the shock of seeing this now old man I had once feared, I asked them if they would mind giving me a lift as he did not appear fit enough for such activity. The three of us lifted the unit, rotated it and put it on the rails. They stood back. I hadn’t expected an audience as I edged the unit into place. Hoping it would fit and I would not look a total idiot I eased it inch by inch into position. I had that same sick feeling as if I was back in school. I envisaged it not fitting and was waiting for the bellow of how useless I was. As the unit eased in position, I heard the old teacher say “Wow, just look at that. Perfect. That’s how you do it lads, you’re watching a craftsman!”
It’s winter in the Northern Hemisphere, and the humidity has dropped in many climates. As a result, some customers have reported their lump hammers have gotten loose. Here’s how to tighten it up.
Wedging your lump hammer’s handle is part of its regular maintenance, just like tightening the handles of your handplanes and saws when the humidity plunges. No matter how tightly we wedge the head at the factory, it will come loose at some point due to use and the weather.
We included a metal wedge with your lump hammer for this operation. If you misplaced it, the quickest solution is to buy one at a local hardware store. They are usually about 25 cents.
Re-wedging takes a few minutes and usually lasts several decades. Here’s how we do it.
Clamp the handle in a handscrew and place it on a solid surface – the floor or over the leg of a workbench is ideal. Orient the wedge so it is 90° to the wooden wedge. Tap it in with a good-sized hammer (16 oz. or so). Drive in the metal wedge until it will not go in farther. Remove the excess wedge material at the grinder or with a file. Clean up the top of the head with sandpaper. Add a little oil to the wood if you like.
The content management system at Core77 gobbled up a big chunk of text in my latest column, and I failed to notice it until last night. The missing chunk has been restored, and you can read the complete column here.
Or you can simply read the missing chunk right here. It’s pretty darn important. The text was a bulleted list that followed this paragraph:
When I enter into a freelance agreement with a supplier, I begin the conversation by saying: I’ve had some rough relationships with suppliers in the past, and I’d like to make sure I understand how your organization works so that I can give you exactly what you need. Then I work through this list:
Is this “work for hire” or will I be working on a contract basis? If it’s “work for hire” then everything I produce belongs to the supplier in the end. With contract work, everything is negotiable, including who “owns” the final result. I do both kinds of work, but I charge more for work for hire.
Will I receive a purchase order or written assignment? A purchase order or assignment tells me the scope of what I’m being asked to do. Sometimes it can be as casual as an email with a list of tasks. Sometimes it can be open-ended (“Write me a monthly blog about cat treats”). Other times it can have specs that have to be followed. I always prefer some sort of assignment or purchase order so that I can deliver what the supplier wants. But I’ll work without one if I trust the supplier.
Do you require an invoice to issue payment? What tax information does your organization require? You would think the answers to these questions would be obvious, but every organization is different. Some require almost no information to pay you. Others want a tissue sample from your rear end. Early in my career, there were many instances I didn’t get paid because I hadn’t jumped through some hoop. “We haven’t processed your invoice because you haven’t sent us a W-9.” Or “We were waiting on your tax ID number to complete setting up your account.”
How long does it take you to issue payment after the job is complete? Do not be afraid to ask this question. If someone tells me they pay in 90 days, I’m going to rethink whether I want this job. If they pay within seven days, I might be willing to work for a lower price. In either case, the answer to this question is critical because it tells you exactly when you should start complaining.
Finally, I ask who I should talk to in the organization with accounting and billing questions. The person who is assigning you work might not deal with the bills. So if you complain to that person, you might be making work for them to act as an intermediary between you and the accounting department. Find out who the billing contact is so you can establish a relationship with that person, too.
You can now purchase laser-cut templates for the Staked Armchair from “The Anarchist’s Design Book: Expanded Edition” and they are available for immediate shipment. A set of templates is $43 and can be ordered here from our store.
The templates are a supplement to the instructions in “The Anarchist’s Design Book: Expanded Edition.” If you own the book, there is an entire chapter devoted to making your own templates with trammels and a ruler. In other words, you don’t have to own these templates to make the chair.
Why offer them? To remove one more barrier to you making a chair. The templates are laser cut from MDF (they are nicer than my personal set of templates) and contain all the important information you need to lay out your parts: the mortise locations, the sightlines, resultants and even the shape of the seat’s pommel. They are a shortcut. Plus they are a jumping-off point for developing your own designs for arms, crests and seats. When I develop a new chair, I usually begin with existing templates.
The templates are made by FirstLightWorks in Derbyshire in the U.K. Ed Sutton at FirstLightWorks took a chair class with me last year and developed these templates using my personal set. If you like in the U.K. or Europe, you can order the templates here through Classic Hand Tools.
Note that the templates are a supplement to the instructions in “The Anarchist’s Design Book: Expanded Edition.” If you are a beginning chairmaker, you will need the book to guide you through the construction process.
The content management system at Core77 gobbled up a big chunk of text in my latest column, and I failed to notice it until last night. The missing chunk has been restored, and you can read the complete column 
