Search Results for: a kind of order

But to get the best out of it, we have to let it absorb us, to take us right out of ourselves. Then it will be the best kind of antidote to brooding and worrying and war nerves. And to do this, we want to make it as many-sided an interest as possible. Not to be content with advancing the skill of our hands alone, although this is no small thing, but to find out all we can about furniture – good furniture – and design, all we can about past masters of the craft.

And last, but not least, to train ourselves to see beauty in all its forms, from a shaft of sunlight striking like a shining sword athwart a dingy street, to the glory of an evening sky; to watch for it in books, in pictures, in poetry, in music, anywhere and everywhere, according to our own natural predilections.

For it is that which moulds the taste, makes us able to create lovely things as well as appreciate them.

— The Woodworker, June 1940

Of all the men who feel the attraction of woodwork, who vaguely feel the urge to make things with their hands, there is a very large number who never let it get any further than that, or who, having started, give it up as soon as the first real difficulties make their appearance.

They say it would be easy, of course, if only they had all the proper tools, and will toy for a long time with the idea of magnificent tool chests, just as if an elaborate equipment could supply the lack of the kind of determination which counts for much more than equipment, and manages to rub along on very little.

Or they will tell you that they haven’t anyone to show them how. If they could study under a really good instructor they would soon be able to master it.

I wonder.

— The Woodworker, May 1940

New values have come in, new prospects of easy money are for ever enticing young men still further away, but it is doubtful they are happier for all that, for one can have easy money and an empty life, which is a poor substitute for creation. The wise ones will provide for it in their leisure and wood seems the natural medium for most of us. It is kind stuff to handle, it is creative work which keeps us close to first essentials by helping to provide necessities for the home, and it gives scope for every bit of skill and judgment we can develop, with always the promise of beauty in the end.

— The Woodworker, March 1951

No wonder we feel so much at home with wood as a material, at once our most faithful servant and best friend. But the men who are keeping alive the tradition of fine furniture are the little men, scattered over the country who still in their workshops give the lie to the cynical modern view that in these days people will only work for money and that the satisfaction of the work counts for nothing.

Just as there are the men who do woodwork in their spare time, finding in it the kind of pleasure and satisfaction which their own daily work too often denies them.

— The Woodworker, April 1951

In those days a journeyman’s full tool chest was quite a costly investment, and many a man found it an expensive undertaking to supply himself with all the tools he needed. Besides his ordinary bench and everyday working tools, he was obliged to carry a lot of odd tools that are not much thought of these days. Sash planes, match planes, moulding planes, beading planes, coves, rabbits (sic), side filisters, try and other squares, mortise gage, and three or four other squares, bevels, miters, and a half a dozen or more saws of various kinds, including a dove-tailing saw – a saw which is now almost extinct – plumb-bob, and two or three dozen chisels, gouges, and many other things the modern carpenter never wants or thinks of.

The moving of tool chests was quite a big job, and the chest itself was a fearful and wonderful combination of usefulness, clumsiness and adaptability. I keep mine as a “mechanical relic,” now over 60 years old.

— A Retired Carpenter, The National Builder, January 1914