Here are the earliest dividers I’ve seen in person. These bronze dividers (or “compass” if your name is Peter or Jennie) were found in the ruins of Pompeii, which was destroyed in A.D. 79.
The originals reside in the Munich Residenz. Museum officials made a copy that is displayed in the Deutches Museum in Munich. A quick search of the web site of the Residenz revealed nothing about the dividers – mostly just pictures of the jewelry of princes and the like. Yawn.
These bronze dividers are interesting because they are a lot like the slightly more modern tools used for navigating on the sea. (Lee Valley offered a set in brass I believe.)
The Deutches Museum was a treasure trove of cool tools relating to making things, everything from an entire section on sectors to water-powered machinery, shipbuilding, early machine tools, the history of casting, you name it.
The best part: Every room smelled like a different lubricant.
I was able to see only a portion of the collection this morning before we had to catch a train. Next time I have to plan an entire day at the museum.
On the topic of classes for next year, Dictum officials have asked me to submit some topics of classes to teach in Germany next year. While I am trying to reduce my teaching schedule next year, it would be foolish to turn down a trip to Bavaria now that I can count to 10 in German.
So here were some of the students’ ideas for courses:
• Roubo workbench (I can already hear my back whining)
• Campaign chest
• Campaign writing desk or shaving kit
• Officers’ portable desk.
I also need to come up with ideas for one- or two-day courses. But I’ll work on that another day – right now I need to finish a chapter in my book on campaign furniture.
When thinking of the modern wood-working establishment, with its finely-drawn divisions and subdivisions of all the different operations in the hands of experts and specialists, it is with a feeling of regret that we see the old-fashioned all-round mechanic being gradually crowded into the background, with the prospect that sooner or later his type will become extinct.
Not so many years ago the skilled workman was an indispensable factor in every wood-working shop. He was a combination of cabinetmaker, carpenter and machineman who could make a complete door or window or a piece of furniture from the raw material, with no other assistance but his own skill. He could lay out his work, match, joint and lay his own veneer, knew all about the properties of glue, the nature of the various kinds of wood and their adaptability for different purposes, besides a thousand other shop kinks, acquired by years of practical experience.
It used to be a source of real pleasure to watch such workman handle his tools when building up, piece by piece, some intricate design of artistic woodwork, and the evident satisfaction he derived from viewing the work of his own hands, showed the earmarks of the artist. On account of his ability and wide range of usefulness, he was looked up to by his shopmates, and his work called forth the admiration of everybody. (more…)
The price of the deluxe version of “To Make as Perfectly as Possible: Roubo on Marquetry” will be $380 plus shipping ($20 less than our target price of $400).
Shipping on the book will cost $10 for customers in the United States and $20 for international customers.
If you paid the $100 deposit on the book, you will receive an e-mail in the next two weeks from John Hoffman at Lost Art Press with easy instructions on how to pay the balance to receive your book. Your book will not ship until you have paid the balance.
Here are some answers to common questions on the deluxe version of our translation:
When will the deluxe book ship?
We hope the book will ship in early August. We are working with a different printer on this book, so we are not entirely sure (yet) when our press date will be. As soon as the printer tells us a press date, we will publish it here.
How many deluxe books are you printing?
The plan is to print 600 copies of the deluxe version of the book. Once these are sold, we will not print this edition again. Almost all of the 600 books are spoken for, but we will offer what is left here on our site. The deluxe version will be sold only here on the Lost Art Press site. We are not selling the deluxe edition through our retailers.
What will the deluxe book look like?
It will be nice – a book that we would like to have on our shelves. The book will be 12” x 17”, 248 pages, hardbound and printed in the United States. The interior of the book will be printed on #100 Mohawk superfine white eggshell paper.
The binding will be a Smythe-sewn three-piece binding with a square back plus head and foot bands. The spine will be covered in an Italian fabric that is printed in gold and black foil. The boards will be covered in #80 Mohawk loop antique vellum with a special image printed on the paper.
We had considered using calfskin on the spine but decided we preferred the cloth spine. (Wait until you see the whole package before you start howling.)
The book will come in a handmade slipcase that is wrapped in matching cloth.
Can my club/magazine/blog/library receive a “review” copy?
No. We have been approached by several clubs, magazines, bloggers and libraries about getting a free or discounted copy. There will be no free or discounted copies of this book distributed. Even I, John Hoffman and the authors will be purchasing our copies.
I cannot afford the deluxe version. When will the trade edition come out?
Work on the trade edition is proceeding, and we will have this second version of the book out by fall. It will be in a smaller size, with different printing specifications and no color photos, but it will be as nice as any other Lost Art Press book we’ve printed so far. Our target price is $60, but we are having trouble getting the manufacturing costs under control. The trade edition will be sold by our retailers who choose to carry it. Eventually there will be an e-book version of the trade book, plus other ancillary products. But I don’t have any more details other than what I’ve written above.
The man who designs and makes a good chair, or other useful article of any kind—all the more if it be beautiful as well as useful—is second only in the respectability of his occupation to him who brings grain and grass out of otherwise barren ground.
It is a very mistaken notion of the relations of things that sets trading—that is, buying and selling—a very different matter from commerce, which is the bringing of the products of one country into another—above handicraft. But handicraft seems to be falling into neglect.
The number of artisans who thoroughly understand their craft, and take a pride in doing good work, seems to be diminishing at a rate which is perceptible from one five years’ end to another. Indeed, it is notorious among all those who have occasion from time to time to employ skilled labour, that if they need the services of, let us say, a carpenter, a cabinet-maker, a watchmaker, or a painter, they cannot be sure, without some troublesome inquiry, that the work will be done in a workmanlike manner.
This uncertainty has no reference to that skill and taste which are the personal attributes of the individual workman, and give one man a reputation which another can never attain, but to that knowledge and skill, at once elementary and complete, which is possessed by every artisan who has “learned his trade.” (more…)
One of my students in Germany is a fan of planes by Philip Marcou, the New Zealand toolmaker. After attracting a lot of attention in the bowsaw class with his Marcou smoother, Martin Gerhards of Munich offered to bring in the Marcou planes he owns.
I’ve only gotten to use one of Marcou’s planes extensively, which I borrowed for a 2007 review of it for The Fine Tool Journal (the review also appears in my book “Handplane Essentials”). So it was interesting to see a group of planes from the maker that have been built since them.
I didn’t get to use the planes as much as I wanted to – I wa pretty tied up with teaching the classes. But during a couple slow moments I was able to inspect and use some of the planes – and take some photographs.
The plane I got to use the most was the M12 miter plane, a massive (nearly 10-pound) beast that I used on the shooting boards of Dictum GmbH. It might just be the heaviest plane I’ve ever used, but it didn’t feel that way on the shooting board, where it plowed through the end grain of all the European hardwoods I got my hands on in the shop Dictum.
All of the Marcou planes are characterized by their mass, which is a notch above the typical plane forms and a dividing line between many hand-tool woodworkers (see the specs of Marcou’s planes here). Some woodworkers hate heavy planes; other seek them out. I can work either way, but I can tell you that when I shoot with a plane, I look for mass. Mass helps a lot.
So the M12 miter plane was a total joy for me to use. Every part of the plane was made perfectly, from the pinned dovetails in the sole to the precise blade adjuster. The plane can be adjusted for right- or left-handed users. You can even move its massive knob to a position above the toe if you want to use the plane more like a smoothing plane.
The only ding I can give to the plane is the raised area above the heel of the tool – above the blade adjuster. This chamfered brass area prohibits you from capturing the miter plane in a track, like you can with a Stanley No. 9, No. 51, a traditional English miter plane or one of its modern equivalents. This is a small complaint, as the tool is easy to wield without a track once you get the feel for it.
The second Marcou plane I got to use was the J20, a jack plane that Gerhards had set up more like a try plane. Once again, it is a heavy tank of a plane that could charge through nots and dense grain with little or no vibration.
The nicest detail of the plane is the adjustable mouth. It’s a small plate in front of the iron that is easily movable – not just forward and back but even skewed. This feature makes it super easy to move close and mimic the position of the iron.
You can see more photos of the J20 on Marcou’s site here.
The third plane I spent any time with was a custom chamfer plane that Gerhards commissioned. It’s an adaptation of a Japanese wooden chamfer plane that has a movable fence and – like the original – a body that shifts laterally so you can expose a fresh part of the iron.
Marcou greatly improved the fence-adjustment mechanism, which slides on bars and locks with a single thumbscrew. The fence on the original adjusts with two wing-nuts that lock against spin-wheels. The original is clumsy to adjust; Marcou’s is simple.
The blade adjusts to a perfect cutting position by dropping into small grooves in the fence pieces. All-in-all, it’s a pretty amazing adaptation of a traditional tool.
Also, since my 2007 review, Marcou has vastly expanded his web site. You can check out all the details, including lots of photos, by visiting his site here.
