Woodworking Magazine Blog

We've been testing six carcase saws for the Autumn 2009 issue of Woodworking Magazine. And while I can't share the results of the test with you just yet, I want to share some of the interesting stuff we dug up that didn't fit in the printed edition.
 
My goal was to answer the simple question: Should carcase saws be filed for ripping or crosscutting? I'm not sure I even accomplished that. So let's take a look.

A shooting board is one of the most essential accessories for a handplane – everyone should have one. But not every woodworker is confident enough to build one or isn't able to build one accurately.

Rob Hanson of Evenfall Studios now offers a custom shooting board of his own design that is well-made, accurate and easily fine-tuned for your work. Sawmaker Mike Wenzloff (of Wenzloff & Sons fame) loaned me his Evenfall shooting board to take it for a test drive. So for the last couple weeks I've been using it in place of my two standard shooting boards. I am quite impressed.

I have three favorite jokes. One of them starts out with, “What’s brown and sticky?” The second one is from journalism school. It goes like so:

“People complain about bias in newspapers. That they never tell the truth. To that I say: What the heck do you want for a (expletive deleted) quarter? The truth costs at least $10.”

In other words you get what you pay for, which is probably not a good aphorism to repeat on a blog.

In the world of backsaws, almost all the modern makers have perfected their version of a dovetail saw. But when it comes to tenon saws, things are all over the map.

Some are difficult to start or hard to push. Some are too small. Some are a bit unbalanced. Some have teeth that are too fine. I formed these opinions after trying several examples of tenon saws by modern makers and many vintage saws (teaching classes about sawing has an occasional advantage).

Growing up in Arkansas, it seemed we had two kinds of wood: yellow pine and pine that was yellow.

I didn't really start to understand the crazy diversity of lumber available until my grandfather let me play with his collection of veneer samples from Constantine & Son. The store, founded in 1812, used to sell samples of 50 different woods. Each was 1/28" thick, 4" wide and 6" long.

All custom planemakers are judged against the work of Karl Holtey. His work has the precision of a Swiss watchmaker, and the tools are finished to such a degree that they some might classify them as jewelry – if they weren't such hardworking tools.

As a beginning dovetailer, I had a crappy set of plastic-handled chisels, a newspaperman’s salary and a copy of the Japan Woodworker catalog.

All three things conspired to make me miserable.

I wanted to cut dovetails with bold angles, but my crappy chisels had side bevels that were as big as Cheddar Mountain at Bonanza. So every time I went to clean out the waste between my tails, the side bevels would tear a bite out of my tails.

Look around your neighborhood. The next time you see a truck belonging to a contractor or cabinetmaker, there’s a good chance that the company uses a handplane in its logo.

Though the image of a plane is the mark of the craftsman, there are few craftsmen who really know how to use the tool. Has this knowledge been lost? Are the tools simply obsolete?

The truth is that neither statement is true. The handplane is the most advanced and cunning wood-cutting tool ever invented, and it has yet to be surpassed by anything with a power cord. After World War II, handplanes began to disappear from shops because we traded speed for skill and expediency for quality.

Instead of calling myself a woodworker, I am now considering the title "outsider artist."

Now before you stop reading this entry and resume watching videos of funny monkeys, hear me out for a bit. Whenever I'm at a dinner party with strangers and they find out I'm a woodworker, there is usually one of two reactions.

1. They ask if I could please come over to their house this weekend to build them a new closet, kitchen island, deck or addition to their home.

2. They ask if I enjoy my job at the mall scrollsawing letters all day to make plaques for kids' rooms.

I have tried to explain how I design and build furniture, but I might as well be telling them that I make scented candles from reclaimed earwax. They don't understand why anyone would make something (furniture) that is so cheaply available from Ikea.

If you want to sell something to a woodworker, the easy way is to start by selling him on the idea that he can’t possibly do it himself. If you can accomplish that, then you have someone ready and willing to buy yet another jig to make joinery simple or publication that reveals the secrets to cutting dovetails. In truth, there isn’t much to woodworking beyond cutting stuff to a line and cleaning up surfaces you’ve cut. When I tell myself “I can’t possibly do that” a warning signal goes off, and I look for the reason why.