Editing of “To Make as Perfectly as Possible” is in full swing this week, and our house has been overcome by the process.
The 1977 reprint volumes of “L’Art du Menuisier” have transformed our bedroom into a library. There’s no better way to page through the books (including the 18th-century originals) than on our bed with the boards supported by pillows.
All our extra hard drive space is filled with backups and more backups of digital images. I even looked for a hard drive at Kroger this morning.
To process the photos, manipulate the line scans, edit the text and compare it to the original, I have all our computer screens crammed with the book. Laptop is on my lap and the desktop is on my desk. A. J. Roubo’s shoulder knives are stacked on the dresser. Polissoirs are propping up an extra 4-terabyte drive.
And speaking of Roubo, are you going to be in Cincinnati for Woodworking in America next week? Are you free that Friday night? If the answer to both questions is “yes,” then stay tuned to the blog tomorrow for a special Lost Art Press event we’re planning.
I was an odd child. All through grade school, my favorite ensemble consisted of denim overalls, a T-shirt and cowboy boots – or moccasins. We were, after all, living next to a Cherokee reservation.
It is truly a miracle that I reproduced.
During the last two years I’ve experienced a retrograde in the way I dress. No matter the occasion, I wear carpenter’s jeans, a T-shirt and moccasin boots or shoes. Of these three fashion accoutrements, the moccasins are the most interesting and endearing.
They are, in essence, the equivalent of hand tools for your feet.
For years, I’ve worn all manner of hard-soled boots at work and play. My favorites – Gokey snake-proof boots I’ve owned for nearly 20 years, protected me from all sorts of nastiness. But protection comes at a price. I can wear these boots for only short periods.
As I’ve slipped back into my grade-school ways, I’ve rediscovered moccasins and moccasin boots. These are the only shoes that I regret removing at the end of the day. Like hand tools, these shoes transmit every detail of the ground I’m covering – instead of homogenizing it.
They mold to the shape of my feet, instead of twisting my toes to their shape.
Also a bonus: Many of these boots are stitched by hand, are re-soleable (a money-saving miracle) and are definitely not disposable footwear.
There are lots of shoe-makers out there who can provide you with boots that will ease your long days in the shop. I have become fond of Quoddy boots, which are made in Maine. They are expensive, but I can guarantee you that they are worth every penny. I saved for many months to buy Grizzly Boots from Quoddy and have beaten them into the ground. I’ve stomped all over the Western world. I’ve stood on my feet all day in them and regretted removing them at the end of the day. I’ve kept them oiled so that they last as long as their owner.
Lately there have been discussions about workbench designs on forums and blogs that have concluded with a warning: Don’t be a slave to “fashion” when you design your bench. Instead, do what I did….
Let me translate this chatter for you: Don’t build a French-style bench or some other ancient workbench. They are just a fashion craze.
I get asked to weigh in on these discussions. A lot. I never do. Here’s the reason: I do not give a rat’s hinder what “style” of workbench you build. The “style” is immaterial. The era is came from? Irrelevant. The particulars of the workholding? Mostly a non-issue.
When I wrote my first book, “Workbenches: From Design and Theory to Construction and Use,” I began the text with the only thing I care about when it comes to workbench design. I hate to quote myself. But because my ideas get mangled like a hog through a grinder, I’m going to make an exception:
“Every piece of lumber has three kinds of surfaces: edges, faces and ends. A good workbench should be able to hold your lumber so you can easily work on these three kinds of surfaces. Any bench that falls short of this basic requirement will hold you back as your woodworking skills advance.”
That’s it. That’s all I care about when it comes to workbenches. I go on for 128 more pages in that book, but that’s the core idea. Now you don’t have to buy the book (hat tip to the wives).
So why do I build French benches ad nauseam? Because they accomplish that goal with flying colors, and are they cheap, simple and fast to build. Period. That’s it.
That’s not a hemline that goes up and down in wartime. That’s just fact.
You can build any workbench in any style that makes it easy for you to work on faces, edges and ends. I’ve seen them – even benches made out of melamine slabs that are mindlessly humping military desks. You can modify a Euro bench to do the job (I’ve done it). You can probably make one out of toothpicks or Legos and accomplish the same goals.
How you get to the goal is irrelevant. The goal, however, is everything to me.
So if you are one of the many would-be bench builders out there who have been confused, concerned or constipated by these discussions, relax. There is no bench fashion. There are only benches that work and benches that make you do all the work.
This episode was great fun to shoot, except for the 20 times I was smashed into my own tool chest with my head jammed in a dark place it didn’t want to go – a place that the haters say my head has never left.
As always when shooting “The Woodwright’s Shop,” guests are beat with a foam noodle by Roy Underhill, you throw up a little in your mouth during the filming and you will eat Bojangle’s fried chicken during the lunch break.
So on balance, a good time.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. As always, thanks to Roy Underhill for inviting me on his show. I still cannot believe it really happened.
Next week we will be able to sell the leather editions of “Mouldings in Practice” in our Lost Art Press store. There will be 26 to 30 copies available (depending on how many survive the binding process) and they will be $185 postage paid to any address in the United States.
The books were delayed by the leather supplier – Ohio Book said it took three weeks to secure the brown leather we use for these books. I suspect a bovine rebellion was the real cause.
So for those of you who have itchy mouse fingers, you can relax this weekend. Monday will be the earliest they will be available. As always, it is first-come, first-serve on leather editions.
So while I’m explaining myself, here is a quick update on some other projects we are working on:
“To Make as Perfectly as Possible” aka, the Andre Roubo translation. This book is entirely in my hands right now. The translators have done their job. We have paid an obscene amount of money to get every single plate digitized. The essays are complete. I’m the problem.
“By Hand & Eye” by George Walker and Jim Tolpin. This has been edited and flowed into the InDesign layout files. All the images are digitized. I’ve edited it once. But once again, I am the impediment here. I need to get the design work underway.
Audiobook of “The Joiner & Cabinet Maker” as read by Roy Underhill. This is fully recorded and about 25 percent edited. What’s the holdup? It might surprise you that it is me.
Other books that are a little further out:
“Virtuoso” or the H.O. Studley book: Our team is going back to visit the tool chest again next month to take the final photographs. Then the real work begins.
“Furniture of Necessity:” This is my own book. I’ve shelved all my writing projects until I get caught up on editing the titles above.
“Campaign Furniture:” Ditto.
All our other titles are still being written by their authors – except one. That one is being designed right now in hopes of getting it out by the end of the year. More on that title as we get things firmed up.
