Antiques Roadshow Meets SpaceX
Kitting out my woodworking studio is a bit of a collision of worlds. Certainly not every woodworker will encounter this exact sensation as folks tend to toggle themselves further to the left or right of the center lines that represent technology and tradition. If you go into a modern cabinetry shop or a large scale furniture operation these days you’re going to encounter a lot of computers. Design programs, Computer Numerical Control (CNC) Machines, etc… it’s a high tech world that creates so much of the materials that we fill our homes with and there are incredible benefits to having this technology… which I don’t need to tell you. We all enjoy the benefits of the technological world we live in. But when it comes to creating pieces that are intended to be unique pieces of art and carefully considered demonstrations of craftsmanship we can see and feel very quickly the difference, even in a high quality piece. There is perfection in a piece that has been mapped out on software in several axis and cut with inhuman precision… a perfection that is sometimes just a little bit… too perfect? I can only speak for myself but I miss the chaos. I miss the tiny imperfections or variances that come from something having been cut by hand with a tool that was sharpened by hand. Also the beautiful mistakes! The slip that forced you to problem solve a practical fix that led to an aesthetic choice you would not have otherwise discovered and which, sometimes, are your favourite designs (they often are for me). On the flip side, there are certainly purists who believe in the craft to the point of rebelling against any technological leverage, using only hand tools for every step of their process. I can appreciate the sentiment and have certainly gone through processes that many would consider exercises in futility or simply foolish but I am awfully fond of the miracle of a helical head jointer and the glory of seeing a rough and unremarkable piece of lumber turn into a thing of beauty, revealing her grain like a geode cracked open. Balance in all things, I suppose.
Sourcing all the various elements needed and desired for my studio here has involved a lot of back and forth (see last post “Jointers are like Epsom Salts”). The last several weeks have been focused on machines. Jointers with just the right helical heads, tablesaws that will stop themselves the instant they sense human skin and leave a scratch rather than a gaping wound (a subject close to my heart and my 7 remaining unscathed fingers… a story for another time, perhaps). In an energetic 180, this week I had the pleasure of shopping in my brother’s barn. Nova Scotia is an old place and barns are either junkyards or caves of wonder depending only upon the eyes which you use to see them through. The man who had lived in my brother’s home previously was a woodworker as so many folks are to one degree or another and so the promise of clamps (simple but expensive tools which any woodworker knows you need lots of) had me excited to dig about and see what else we could find. My brother is a very skilled man and knows a hell of a lot more than I do about many things but, lucky for me, he’s not into fine woodworking… he’s a Marine Engineer. So where I fall short on welding (or, really, any metal work at all) and the mechanical side of things, I have the market cornered in our family for doing pretty things with wood and, therefore, any tools that fall under that header.
We began our shed tour with a peek into the seized up parts of the tractor which he had disassembled for entertainment on his time home from sea but then began to dig deeper into old shelves and drawers. He would pull out bits and pieces and casually shrug saying things to the effect of “I don’t know what this thing is but if you want it…” Tag lines of this sort accompanied beautifully crafted mortising gauges, finish nail drivers, a shoulder (rabbetting) plane, a router plane… piece after piece of slightly dirty and entirely quality useable handtools. Things I had hummed and hawed over at various moments in time considering what I needed most and what I should prioritize to the “later down the road” wishlist. It was the best Christmas I’ve ever had in February (topped off with being fed a damn fine meal)… you can’t buy that at Lee Valley.
Being the dichotic creature that I am, this swinging pendulum form of balance did feel awfully nice. I’m not a luddite but I’m feeling very excited to get out some stones and spend some hours in meditation bringing a shine and a burr back to these blades. It’s a soothing break from the roar of the machines.