As many of you know, I’ve had great success building workbenches using thick slabs that are wet (extremely wet) with less than a year of air-drying. Read more about that here.
I purchased my bench kit from Lesley Caudle (lesley27011@yahoo.com), a sawyer in North Carolina. Read more about his sawmill here.
Now Re-Co Bkyln is also offering slab bench kits using lumber that has been reclaimed from the New York City environs. The kits include all the stock you need to make a bench, including a single 6”-thick slab top plus stock for legs, stretchers and a vise chop.
The kit is $999 plus trucking fees ($200 to $400 depending on where you live).
The people at Re-Co are great. John and I have met many of them personally. And they do good work – salvaging urban trees for furniture and now workbenches. Check it out.
One leg of this scale has been cleaned with lanolin. The other has been wiped with wood bleach, which lightened the boxwood but didn’t affect the markings.
The two-foot rule was the standard measuring device for woodworking for hundreds of years. The steel tape was likely invented in the 19th century. Its invention is sometimes credited to Alvin J. Fellows of New Haven, Conn., who patented his device in 1868, though the patent states that several kinds of tape measures were already on the market.
Tape measures didn’t become ubiquitous, however, until the 1930s or so. The tool production of Stanley Works points this out nicely. The company had made folding rules almost since the company’s inception in 1843. The company’s production of tape measures appears to have cranked up in the late 1920s, according to John Walter’s book “Stanley Tools” (Tool Merchant).
The disadvantage of steel tapes is also their prime advantage: They are flexible. So they sag and can be wildly inaccurate thanks to the sliding tab at the end, which is easily bent out of calibration.
What’s worse, steel tapes don’t lay flat on your work. They curl across their width enough to function a bit like a gutter. So you’re always pressing the tape flat to the work to make an accurate mark.
Folding two-foot rules are ideal for most cabinet-scale work. They are stiff. They lay flat. They fold up to take up little space. When you place them on edge on your work you can make an accurate mark.
They do have disadvantages. You have to switch to a different tool after you get to lengths that exceed 24″, which is a common occurrence in woodworking. Or you have to switch techniques. When I lay out joinery on a 30″-long leg with a 24″-long rule I’ll tick off most of the dimensions by aligning the rule to the top of the leg. Then – if I have to – I’ll shift the rule to the bottom of the leg and align off that. This technique allows me to work with stock 48″ long – which covers about 95 percent of the work.
Other disadvantages: The good folding rules are vintage and typically need some restoration. When I fixed up my grandfather’s folding rule, two of the rule’s three joints were loose – they flopped around like when my youngest sister broke her arm. To fix this, I put the rule on my shop’s concrete floor and tapped the pins in the ruler’s hinges using a nail set and a hammer. About six taps peened the steel pins a bit, spreading them out to tighten up the hinge.
Another problem with vintage folding rules is that the scales have become grimy or dark after years of use. You can clean the rules with a lanolin-based cleaner such as Boraxo. This helps. Or you can go whole hog and lighten the boxwood using oxalic acid (a mild acidic solution sold as “wood bleach” at every hardware store).
Here I’m using a zig-zag rule and a carpenter’s pencil to lay out the cuts on the pine stock for the Packing Box. I dislike zig-zags for this work because they don’t lay flat. They have the precision of a hand grenade.
Vintage folding rules are so common that there is no reason to purchase a bad one. Look for a folding rule where the wooden scales are entirely bound in brass. These, I have found, are less likely to have warped. A common version of this vintage rule is the Stanley No. 62, which shows up on eBay just about every day and typically sells for $20 or less.
The folding rule was Thomas’s first tool purchase as soon as Mr. Jackson started paying him. I think that says a lot about how important these tools were to hand work.
Don Williams will be selling first edition plates from “l’Art du Menuisier” at his booth at Handworks next month. Don purchased these unbound original plates recently and has decided to sell them to the public.
Real-deal copperplates are stunning things of beauty, suitable for framing. And originals from Roubo are quite rare.
Don has been posting the plates he’s selling on his blog. Here are some links so you can read more:
Editor’s note: One of the ridiculous and wonderful things we did for Joshua Klein’s book “Hands Employed Aright: The Furniture Production of Jonathan Fisher (1768-1847)” is to commission a painting of Fisher in his workshop. Klein came up with the idea as a way to show Fisher in his habitat, surrounded by many of the tools and objects connected to his life. After reading the first draft of the book, the painting is a delight to explore. In this blog entry, artist Jessica Roux explains how she created the illustration for the book.
As an illustrator, I love tackling exciting projects that combine lots of texture and old world beauty, while offering an opportunity to learn something new. When Joshua Klein contacted me about recreating a workshop scene for his upcoming book on Jonathan Fisher, I knew this project would be just that.
My work is not just drawing a picture; it involves researching, learning and translating articles and stories into compelling visual messages. I’ve worked for a variety of clients, from distilling complex economic concepts for the Sunday Business section of The New York Times to working for Smithsonian magazine on a piece about Abraham Lincoln’s funeral. I love learning new things, so when I’m presented with an opportunity to explore something I’m unfamiliar with, I take on the challenge.
The initial inspiration board Joshua put together for me was compelling. Many of the images had beautiful, rich atmospheres of golden light and warm brown colors (see above). He also provided a rough sketch and lots of reference imagery, including a lot of Fisher’s own tools.
From there, I created a sketch digitally in Photoshop, taking the technical imagery and translating it into my own drawing style. I had some help from my husband, who was kind enough to let me use him for reference in his own shop. He also showed me some of his planes and old tool collections so that I had a better understanding of size, proportion and detail.
After nailing down some more technical aspects of the sketch, we were ready to go to final. I create my finished illustrations by first creating a graphite pencil drawing, then adding color by digitally painting in Photoshop. The graphite drawing allows for a lot of texture to be added, fleshing out the contour sketch into a more realistic, dimensional space. I also really love drawing wood grain, so it was especially fun to work on a piece that incorporated so much of it.
Once the graphite pencil drawing is complete, I scan it in at a high resolution so that it can be reproduced at a larger scale than the drawing itself without loss of quality or detail. Next, I digitally paint the image in Photoshop. I first do a simple color sketch underneath the graphite drawing in order to get a sense of light and to establish the color palette.
Then I block in the colors underneath the drawing and add additional highlights, shadows, details and contrast. I like to move around the illustration going from object to object, getting the details just right, then moving onto the next item. I add adjustment layers when the piece is finished to brighten it up and give a more cohesive feel to the illustration.
I’m pleased with how the final illustration looks – it has a similar feel to the inspirational images, and it ultimately captures a sense of who Jonathan Fisher was and how he worked.
