Fighting Back

When I got into the shop this morning the building was "cold soaked" as my pilot friend Gerry would say. I was out of the shop for two days in a row and that was enough. Luckily, I'd thought ahead and brought my stones and steamer in the house. I probably should have just poured out the water, but I know how much my wife likes seeing woodworking tools in the kitchen.

I realized that the walnut rocker that I am making would hit a dead stop if I didn't get the seat glued up. My preference is to use hot hide glue for this, but I didn't want to take all day to get the shop warm enough to glue up. So I snuck into the house with my glue pot and clamps to get the job done.

This is a photo before gluing. I don't think two spring clamps would get the job done. But I am rather proud of my screw clamp improvisation!

There's two things to remember when doing this. Hide glue, even fresh, smells bad to spouses. So get it out of the house before they return. Also, if you leave the glued up joint in the house, your dogs will lick the joints clean. I brought it back to the shop , foreseeing the dog issue.

From what I've read, it's most important that the glue is still flowing when the joint is assembled and clamped. After the glue gels, which is in a minute or so, much of the bond is established, but you still need to avoid shocking it for 24 hours or so. Yeah, the hide glue has some foibles, but at least I can control them and in the end, I love seeing the cut offs where the wood breaks as opposed to the glue line.

Working with the walnut feels like having cake for breakfast. I tuned up my No# 8 Bailey and dedicated it to edge jointing. I pulled it off the shelf and felt like I had a weapon!

My other stab at winter actually has to do with a bottle of Titebond 3 that I bought recently. I looked for a date on it but couldn't find one, first mistake. Then I glued up a seat with it anyway, second mistake. When I saw the cutoff break cleanly on the glue line, I sawed back through the joint, planed it again and glued it with hide glue. Ah, the joy of doing something twice!

But in the name of preserving the bottle (I'll do some sample joints to test it's strength, who knows, maybe the failure was mine) I used this little trick. I'd love to build a cabinet above my kiln to capture the escaping heat and humidity, but until then, an old plastic bottle will do.

I just make sure that one of the holes is below the cover bottle and that's enough to keep the stuff from freezing, which I know will ruin it. Take that Old Man Winter, by the way, if you don't mind, you can dump all the snow you want, just leave my driveway out of it... please.

An Ounce of Frustration

Making things is hard, and maybe it's supposed to be. Most of the time, I feel like it's my job to simplify, demystify and make possible even the most daunting tasks of chairmaking for my students. I take great joy in seeing the results of a good explanation or process. But a simple task has recently brought to mind the experience of learning.


Lately I've shown a couple of students the process of jointing edges for the gluing up of seat stock. I've posted here about the method that I use. It's pretty simple really. But watching students work to master it, I've realized that there is something missing. That something is the countless hours that I've spent learning everything from the feel of the handplane itself to the sharpening, wood technology and perhaps most importantly, the practice.

I keep thinking of musicians, and the process of mastering an instrument or music. No one would dare to think that just picking up a violin would make them ready for the stage, yet with the purchase of some tools, it's easy to mistake that one has acquired the skills that drive them.

So what's my point? It's not that I believe that we should abandon the optimism and boldness that pushes us forward into the unknown, but that we shouldn't be so surprised to find it a strange and awkward place once we get there.

It's easy to measure success of a project by the final results, but perhaps focusing on the small lessons along the way is more appropriate. Watching students confront their frustration and get their foot in the door of a new skill stirs a lot of empathy in me. Sometimes I wish that I could spare them the trials, but then there would be no real chance of success at all.

Bright Blue

The "Bright Blue" that I'm referring to is from my post about the limited palette that I used to paint with. After a year or so of using muted colors, bright blue came along and changed the way that I looked at painting. The walnut of my latest chair has brought along a similar awakening.
I've worked with "pretty" wood, such as cherry, but the lush surface of the walnut and the ease of working it is a whole new game.


Perhaps it's because it is so dark and fine grained that every little detail seems to glow. It creates countless opportunities to play with light and shadow, but it comes with an obligation as well. Any ill considered or muddy area will shine just as brightly as the best made shapes and marks. Luckily, this stuff is not interested in fighting.


As I was monkeying around with the crest bending, and ending up with some castaways, I took it as an opportunity to readdress the crest shape. I settled on the shape below.


I really like the look of it in the chair. The motion of the cut away sides helps move the eye back to the spindles and the center of the chair, plus it was plain old fun to make. Below is the entire chair, all in all, I'm pleased with the results.

One of the unexpected results of working with the walnut was the pace with which I made the piece. Something about it slowed me down, not by much and perhaps it was just a perception, but I felt more conscious of what I was doing. Knowing that any small mistake would be glaring might have something to do with it, but it wasn't all nerves, I enjoyed it.

Below is the seat, which I glued up from three pieces. I used the glue up technique to align the growth rings that I covered in a previous post and it worked out great. While under close inspection, the joints reveal themselves, at first it looks like a one piece seat. I really don't mind if folks play "where's the joint", but I take some joy in them having to really focus to find it!

Now I'm sitting down to write an article about building this chair which will hopefully come out this year.

Jointing for Seats

In an earlier post, I describe the technique that I use for aligning the grain when jointing for a seat blank. Of course, it's nice to avoid having to use anything but a single plank, but in this day of increasing scarcity, making invisible, solid joints is a good skill to have. Here is the way that I orient the grain so that the grain looks fluid on the carved surface.

Most of the difficulty in getting a perfect joint is going to be eliminated at the sharpening station (you're not suprised, are you?!). After much trial and error, I learned that the key to easy and true jointing is a dead flat plane iron. I carefully flatten my stones, which is the key to getting a flat edge, on drywall sanding screen and plate glass. Then I grind the edge carefully until I can hold a flat tool against it and see no light pass through, as show below (there is a window directly behind the blade).



Then I carefully hone the edge. As you can see below, the mirror finish should give an undistorted reflection right up to the edge. We haven't gone anywhere near the wood, and already the important part is over!


I've made a video of the technique that I use. The problem with most jointing, like honing, is the tendency to create a convex shape. With a plane iron, we use a hollow grind to give stability and to fight this natural tendency. I use the same principle for jointing the edge of a board. By creating a very slight hollow in the middle of the board, the plane will ride on the high spots and only cut on either end. When the plane takes a full length shaving of even thickness, I know to stop, and the board is truly flat.






It is of course vital that the pressure on the plane is always over the board. If you put pressure on the part that overhangs in the beginning or end of the stroke, you can round the edge.
If the process doesn't work the first time, simply take a couple of shavings from the middle of the board and try again. Honestly, without a properly flattened plane iron, I cannot do this, so if you have trouble, look to the blade. Below is the unclamped joint. It should sit snugly with nothing but gravity. Good luck!

Gluing Up Seats

I have always avoided gluing up seat blanks for my chairs. I figure that the time saved using a single blank and the security of not having a joint in the seat easily made up for the extra expense. But recently I have been using butternut, and the availability of wide pieces is slim. For seats where the grain runs side to side, I have found that I can match the grain so that the joint is virtually invisible and actually gives the seat a more striking appearance.
Anyone who's glued a tabletop has come across the technique of alternating the growth ring direction on the boards. It helps to keep the final piece flat. If you think about the growth rings as seen in cross section (or end grain), they will move towards straightening out. By alternating them, you minimize this tendency versus compounding it. Imagine a panel that curls like a potato chip versus one that has some waves. Well I've found that by using this technique on my chair seats and carefully matching the angle of the grain where the joint is, that the carving "erases the joint"
If you look at the photo of the end grain above, you'll see that I've accentuated the growth rings with a pencil to show their orientation. To make this joint disappear, I try bring the boards together where each of their growth rings is at a similar angle. When this is done correctly, the image that the grain reveals when carved will be seamless. It's as if you've created a new way for the tree to grow! I always arrange the board that will be carved for the deepest part of the seat so that it has the outer part of the tree facing up (growth rings down). This gives a lovely "topographic" look to the rings as they descend into the deepest point. Also, by using a narrower board at the back of the seat, I ensure that the joint is located in a heavily carved area (avoid passing the joint through any future spindle locations) and therefore helping to obscure it. Taking the boards from the same plank to match the color helps in unpainted work You can see the finished results in the bottom photo. Rarely does anyone know that the seat is a glue up and often, once told, they cannot find the joint.