I am off to Charleston, S.C., for the rest of the week to help settle my father’s estate and clean out his house. So I won’t be posting much on the blog, if at all.
In my absence, I give you this embarrassing reading of the poem from “Ingenious Mechanicks: Early Workbenches & Workholding.” It always takes me a little time to get any perspective on my own work. This book seems to be an unusual combination of deep and difficult research with Cheeto jokes. I can say at this point that the printing job is spectacular. And the paintings that Suzanne Ellison dug up for the book are worth the price of admission.
The poem is an exhortation on the sort of woods that are appropriate for a workbench. The audio was recorded and edited by Brendan Gaffney. The plates are from from M. Duhamel’s “de L’exploitation des bois.”
A toothed planing stop is an indispensible appliance for a low workbench. Yes, it marks your work, but many times this isn’t a problem if you consider carefully the order of operations on a board (i.e. crosscut the marks away at the end). Photo by Narayan Nayar.
The first time I saw the bench in Peter Nicholson’s “Mechanic’s Companion” (1831), I thought: That’s not right – the benchtop has only a planing stop. There are no holes for holdfasts, dogs or other workholding devices. While the front of the bench features a screw-driven face vise, I thought surely the illustrator forgot to draw in some details.
These early workbenches have little in way of workholding. Where’s the tail vise? Do you need one? (Peter Nicholson’s “Mechanic’s Companion” (1831)).
Then I got a copy of André Félibien’s “Des Principes de L’Architecture” (1676-1690) and the workbenches shown there (below) are also stripped down. They feature a planing stop and some holes in the top and legs for a holdfast. As I worked my way backward through the visual record of workbenches in technical manuals and paintings, the message was clear: Early workbenches had simple workholding.
It would be easy to assume that early benches are simple because the screw vise hadn’t been invented. Yet, large scale screws show up in early Greek, Roman, Egyptian and Assyrian writings and drawings. And archaeologists have found evidence of screw-driven vises (likely for metalworking) at Augusta Raurica, a Roman site in Switzerland active from 44 B.C. to 260 C.E.
The workbench from André Félibien’s “Des Principes de L’Architecture” (1676-1690).
They knew about screws. Perhaps the screws were too much trouble to make for a woodworker’s workbench. Or they simply preferred to work without them.
So, I stopped using a tail vise and didn’t miss it one bit (I still don’t). I began to plane up panels with only a planing stop and became quite fast at processing stock. This small taste of success drove me to experiment with pegs, wedges, battens and notched sticks. Things that looked like they could never hold your work (such as a doe’s foot) worked brilliantly.
I am convinced there is a world of workholding out there that doesn’t require gizmos, but instead requires a little cleverness and some basic skills with the tools. The following account only scratches the surface of what’s out there. Every tradesperson, from the armorer to the shoemaker to the block builder, had simple ways of holding the work that don’t look like much to the modern eye. These are just a few of the devices that show up repeatedly in the historical record.
Planing Stop On early workbenches, the simple planing stop is the foundation for all the other bits of workholding for woodworking. In fact, some benches are equipped with only a planing stop. There’s a lot you can do with a planing stop and a little skill.
Most planing stops are comprised of a square piece of wood that is long enough to penetrate the benchtop and give the woodworker a lot of height for planing boards on edge – 3″ x 3″ x 12″ is a typical size.
Add a thin batten in front of your planing stop and you’ve made an effective planing stop for wide panels.
The stop is adjusted up and down with hammer blows so it needs to be a durable wood – oak is typical – and dry.
You might think that fitting the planing stop requires you to consider how wet the benchtop is and the current season. Will the stop and benchtop (or both) shrink as they dry? Or, if the stock is bone dry, will that component swell during the humid season? Most bench builders have a slab that is somewhat wet that might take years to acclimate to the shop, plus stock for a planing stock that is at equilibrium with their shop.
There are formulas and lots speculation for how tight or loose to make things. I ignore it.
When I fit a planing stop, I assume that I’m going to have to adjust it later on if it becomes too tight or make a new one if things get too loose. So, I focus on getting a good snug fit that day. I want the stop to move about 1/8″ with each heavy mallet blow.
After I get that fit, I simply pay attention to how it is working during the months ahead. If the stop becomes almost impossible to move, I remove it and plane it a tad. If it’s too loose you can glue some veneer onto the existing stop or make a new one. In time, the wood will settle down and your planing stop will do the same.
My daughter Maddy is ready to start shipping our latest round of stickers. They come in sets of three for $5 cash, or you can buy them through her etsy store.
Maddy graduates from The Ohio State University on Sunday and in August will move to New York for some secret research job that involves developing vaccines for infectious diseases.
While she’s saving the world from the Infectious Lizard Butt Syndrome, she has also happily agreed to continue fulfilling sticker orders.
This might sound corny, but I think she kinda likes the notes, photos and stickers that readers send her. She has decorated her apartment with some of the stickers and photos. So thanks – y’all have been right nice.
Here are details on the three stickers.
A “Disobey” sticker a la Shepard Fairey designed by Jason Weaver. Jason has published this design on a T-shirt and says that he will be offering those shirts again. I really dislike looking at myself, but Jason did such a clever thing with this image that I forgive him.
A detail of the cover of “From Truths to Tools.” This image is an homage to William Blake’s “The Ancient of Days” by Andrea Love.
An image from “Ingenious Mechanicks” featuring my personal motto: Experto Crede.
A few people have noted the disparity of having a “disobey” sticker in the same group as a “experto crede” sticker. We do this because Carl Jung.
These are quality 100 percent vinyl stickers. They will survive the outdoors – heck you could put one on a street sign. Want a set? You can order them from Maddy’s etsy store here. They are $6 delivered ($10 for international orders).
Or, for customers in the United States, you can send a $5 bill and a SASE (self-addressed stamped envelope) to my daughter Maddy at:
Stick it to the Man
P.O. Box 3284
Columbus, OH 43210
As always, this is not a money-making venture for me or Lost Art Press. All profits help Maddy escape Ohio for New York without selling her (boyfriend’s) plasma.
I recently purchased a No. 5 Mt. Lebanon Shaker rocker that was in need of a new seat and back. I have done a few woven-tape seats in the past; it is pretty easy work and kind of fun. One thing that I had not tried previously was a proper stuffing bag that is sandwiched between the tape layers. The modern solution is to use a piece of foam. This is quite alright and works perfectly. Just something about putting a piece of foam in a 120+-year-old chair seems wrong.
On my last trip to Hancock Shaker Village I measured and photographed two of the chair stuffing bags preserved in its collection. One was stuffed with straw, the other had two layers of old quilt inside. Stuffing bags have been documented with wood shavings, horsehair and cotton stuffing. Another thing that was cool is they were made of scrap fabric that was machine-stitched together. Some of the pieces had traces of hand stitching that had been cut loose. These were probably remnants of old clothing.
Making the bag is pretty simple. The main part is the size of the inside of the seat frame with an extra 4″ tacked to the edges that glue to the seat rungs. I used some cheap cotton muslin and an old shirt that had shrunk while hanging in my closet.
After sewing the perimeter of three sides, the bag was stuffed full of straw and then the fourth side was sewn shut.
A thin skim of hide glue holds the bags in place. The seat weave goes over the bags. When complete, the bags are completely hidden.
A photo I took (pre-chocolate) of Thomas Lie-Nielsen at the 25th anniversary.
Recently I sat for a nice interview with Finn Koefoed-Nielsen, a U.K. furniture maker who started his career through home restorations.
One of the things we discussed was how John and I started Lost Art Press. So-called “origin stories” (I got me superpowers after being bit by a horney alpaca) are interesting to me. But I’ve never sat down and hammered out the one for Lost Art Press.
In 2006, John and I attended the Lie-Nielsen 25th anniversary open house. John got to chatting with Christian Becksvoort and asked Chris: “Why haven’t you written any more books?”
Chris gave John a history lesson on how corporate publishing works and how most authors make very little money in the end but the publisher gets rich. I didn’t need the lesson; I was working for F&W Publications and was living the life.
That night John and I sat up late drinking beer and eating melted chocolate. I had brought some Esther Price chocolates (a local delicacy) to give to Thomas Lie-Nielsen. But during the flight and drive they’d melted into one disgusting-looking mass. Like a molten meteor from the Planet PMS.
This is where Finn’s story picks up on his blog. Note his excellent logo. A squirrel. (I assume it’s a red one.)
So there John and I sat with too many beers; chocolate smeared on our faces and hands. Instead of talking about our feelings we talked about publishing. My first book, “Workbenches: From Design & Theory to Construction & Use,” was working its way into my laptop. And I had a lot of ideas for other books that were not very commercial.
And, like all magazine editors, I was certain I was going to be fired. (Note: In 28 years of publishing I’ve never been to a single retirement party for a magazine editor. Like the moon landing, they don’t happen.)
The next day we were hungover, crashed from the sugar rush and waiting on our plane back to real life. Slumped in our seats in the Portland terminal, we decided to investigate this idea a little more.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. The interview with Finn covers a lot more ground, including details on some of our upcoming projects.
After sewing the perimeter of three sides, the bag was stuffed full of straw and then the fourth side was sewn shut.
This is where Finn’s story picks up