The Circle of Life

“We become what we behold. We shape our tools and our tools shape us.”

— Marshall McLuhan

Marshall McLuhan was a 20th century Canadian philosopher who was heavily involved in media, advertising, and television.  He’s responsible for several theories and catchphrases that would be familiar to most adults today, but I think his most interesting quote is listed up above.  I came across this quote a while back in a photography context, but it’s applicability to woodworking immediately struck me.

We truly do become what we behold.  As a woodworker, I’m the product of countless books, magazine articles, TV shows, online videos, audio podcasts, and real-life experiences.  Every piece of woodworking information I’ve ever encountered has influenced me, sometimes for the better and sometimes not.  And this process never ends; these experiences will continue to influence me throughout the course of my life.  What changes as time goes on is the relative weight of their influence.  Early on, woodworking media had a huge impact in my work habits.  These days, my personal experience carries more weight, but outside input is still a factor.

This is the first visual aid I've ever created for this blog.  Nice!

There’s a symbiotic relationship between the environment, the tools, and the maker.  My environment is a basement shop because that is the space available to me.  In this environment, certain tools, such as very large machinery, are impractical due to the difficulty of getting them in and out.  The way I design my projects is affected, as well, because I need to consider how I will move completed projects up the narrow shop staircase and out the door.  Even my workbench was influenced by my environment; I designed it using knockdown joinery so I can get it out of the basement if I ever decide to move.

During the build phase of a project, my tools dictate my workflow.  I always look for ways to accomplish my goals using the tools that I already have, and I’m usually successful.  If I get blocked, modifying an existing tool is my next step, followed by biting-the-bullet and purchasing something new.

It’s fascinating to think about how our shops and our tools influence our decision-making process.  Once you’re aware of this influence, you can use it to understand why you do things the way you do.  Can your process be improved to get better or faster results?  Will a technique or process change be a success or failure?  Either way, don’t sweat it.  Once you accept that you are what you behold and that your environment and tooling heavily influence all of your decisions, the pressure’s off.  The universe is calling the shots, so just head into the shop and have some fun.

A Move to the Middle

I was driving behind a truck when it kicked up a rock and chipped my windshield.  I should’ve had that chip repaired right away, but life got in the way.  Winter came, and that chip became a small crack, then a larger crack, and soon I had a crack that spread from one side of my windshield to the other.  This happened five or six years ago, and yes, that crack is still in my windshield.  Honestly, I don’t even see it anymore; my eyes just naturally look past it when I’m driving.  It’s amazing how, given enough time, we can develop workarounds that allow us to live with easily remedied annoyances.

Up until a few months ago, I was a workbench-against-the-wall guy.  My shop is long and narrow, so placing the bench against the wall gives me the space I need to move around.  The wall also offers some extra support to the bench when I’m using a hand plane.  I learned to tolerate the disadvantages of this setup just like the cracked windshield in my car.  I can only work comfortably on one side of my bench when it’s against the wall.  Any operation that requires access from the ends or the other side has to be done elsewhere.  Clamping a workpiece to the front edge of the bench is always inconvenient because I have to pull the bench away from the wall a bit.  My concrete basement floor is not level, so pulling my bench out a few inches disturbs the shims under the back left leg of the bench, which then makes it wobble.  And don’t even get me started on the kind of damage a 50” parallel jaw clamp can do when it tips over and hits the tool rack hanging on the wall.

When it came time to smooth the top of the curved-front desk, I pulled the bench into the center of my shop to make it easier to plane the entire panel… and it’s still there today.  Having 360 degree access to a workpiece was life-changing.  Nothing was in my way, I didn’t have to worry about knocking something off the wall while reaching across the workpiece, and lo-and-behold the concrete floor is actually flat in the center of my shop, eliminating the need for shims.  I have no plans to ever move the bench back against the wall.  It seems that moving out of my comfort zone made me realize how uncomfortable I’d been all along.

Time For Some New Tool Storage

Years ago, I slapped together the tool rack pictured above to hold my small collection of hand tools.  It’s served me well over the years, but I think it might be time to move on.  I’m just getting started on the design process for a new wall hung tool cabinet, and I’ve outlined four core requirements.

Keep out the dust
Dust… good lord, the dust.  Grabbing a tool that I haven’t used in a while off the wall is like examining an archaeological record of my most recent projects.  The cherry dust is on the top, under that I can see a layer of walnut, and deeper still, there’s a layer of maple dust peeking through.  Dust attracts moisture and moisture makes rust.  And it makes me sneeze.

Consolidate everything in one place
My existing tool rack is not designed to hold hand planes, spokeshaves, marking tools, scrapers, etc.  All of these tools need a home, and that home is currently any horizontal surface in the shop that appears free at the moment.  I want to have all my tools organized in one place so I don’t need to spend ten minutes wandering around looking for my block plane when I need it.

Greater capacity
The rack is fairly full these days; it’s amazing how tools accumulate over the years.  I still remember thinking how empty it looked when I first put it up on the wall.  The new tool cabinet needs to not only accommodate all of my existing tools, but have room to grow, as well.  To do this, I want the interior to be fairly easy to reconfigure as my needs change.

Better protection
Until very recently, my workbench sat up against the wall and right underneath the tool rack.  It was convenient for having the tools right at my fingertips, but I can’t even count how many times I whacked that rack with a clamp.  I’ve knocked chisels down onto the concrete floor and ruined their edges, I sent my mallet flying across the room once, and I’ve even broken and glued back many sections of the chisel holder.  I’ve since moved my workbench out into the center of the shop to give me 360 degree access (which was life changing, by the way, and probably deserves it’s own blog post), but I still would like to have an enclosure of some sort to protect my tools from my own clumsiness.

I’m in the research phase right now, which basically means I’m grabbing pictures of tool cabinets from all over to gauge what I like and what I don’t like.  If you have any lessons learned from your own cabinet (dos or don’ts), let me hear them!  You can reach me via email, twitter, or the comments section on this post.  I’ll post some updates to the blog periodically as I move forward.  But first, I seriously do need to go find my block plane… I think it may have made a break for it when I wasn’t looking…

The Time Machine

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it”

— Roald Dahl

Completing a project in my shop usually plays out like this:  first, I dance around and scream “It’s finished, it’s finished!” as loud as I can.  I’m ecstatic that I managed to finish the damn thing so I can move on to something else.  Once I realize that no one else in the house actually cares, I stop screaming and start to feel a little sad.  I’ve invested a lot of effort and emotion into the project which can make it difficult to move on. 

My curved-front desk project came to a close over the holidays.  It was a long and complex project, and I have a lot of memories stored up in it.  My projects act like a real-world version of Professor Dumbledore’s Pensieve.  Every piece of the project triggers a vivid recollection of my state of mind, surroundings, and worries at the time that I made it.  It’s a lot like hearing a song from years ago that instantly transports you back to that time in your life.

When I run my hands along the sweep of the legs I remember how hot it was the day that I cut the curves.  I was listening to Fleet Foxes on repeat and I nicked my finger on the blade of my spokeshave.  The dovetail joinery between the front rails and the drawer dividers reminds me of how sick I was when I cut those joints.  I can pinpoint the exact spot where I stopped mid-saw cut to go to the hospital.  Seeing the aprons joined to the legs brings back a vivid memory of complete joy when the joints slide together perfectly with minimal trimming of the tenons.  The drawers remind me of the despair I felt as I struggled to motivate myself to finish them over multiple consecutive Sundays, with my Chicago Bears losing on the TV in my shop and autumn rain pouring down outside.  And the top will forever remind me of the day that I explained to my eight-year-old daughter how the front edge would mirror the curve of the front of the carcase and she sighed, nodded, and said, “That sounds nice, but why don’t you just leave it square so it’ll be done already?”

A hand-made piece of furniture isn’t just some planks of wood stuck together.  Its a culmination of dozens of hours of work and thousands of decisions.  Everything I’ve ever made is a physical representation of that period of my life capable of transporting me back through time.  And that is one thing I know I’ll never get from a store-bought piece of furniture. 

Shock and Awe in the New Year

I can’t believe 2014 is over already!  As usual, the holidays were a whirlwind of parties, gifts, and food.  I’m looking forward to a new year filled with new projects; I have a number of shop improvements and furniture projects on my to-do list.  Now that the holiday gift projects are all wrapped up, I have a clean slate and I’m excited to get started.

Historically, I haven’t built a lot of Christmas gifts for my family, but this year presented me with the opportunity to build a small cutting board for my mom.  It was really no big deal; I don’t think it took more than two hours of my time from choosing the appropriate scrap wood to applying the final coat of oil.  The reaction that I got when she unwrapped it, however, was priceless:  no one believed me when I told them that I had made it myself.  Now, my family knows that I’m a woodworker and they’ve seen the furniture pieces in my house that I’ve built.  My mom and dad even have a corner table in their foyer that I designed and built for them.  None of those furniture pieces—despite the fact that they are all significantly more complex than a simple cutting board—ever elicited a reaction of shocked disbelief, however.

My day job is in downtown Chicago.  Every day, on my way into the office, I walk past a site where a new skyscraper is under construction.  Over the past year, I’ve watched this project progress from a big hole in the ground to a monolith of concrete, granite, and glass.  I’ve been completely indifferent to the construction process, however, because it’s just too big.  The project was so immense and so complex that my brain couldn’t process it… I just glanced at the new building everyday, shrugged, and moved on.  I think non-woodworkers have a similar reaction when they see a completed project.  A chest of drawers, a china cabinet, or a table and a set of chairs are just too big and complex to think about, so they just shrug and move on.  

A cutting board is a simple item that gets used every day.  Regular folks spend $40 or $50 for a nice cutting board and it never really occurs to them that they could make one themselves.  So, I guess some shocked reactions are understandable given the circumstances.  In 2015, I hope that all of your projects bring a little bit of happiness (or at least some shock and awe) to your loved ones, as well.  Happy New Year!