“Popular Workbenches” is often suggested as a title revision for the magazine, given the number of workbench plans we’ve offered over the years. And it’s true that we have published a generous number of them – but every one is different! And given that a worksurface of some kind is integral to any workshop, well, it’s a perennially important topic. So in this post, just for fun (and to procrastinate […]
One of the essential books that any woodworker should have is By Hand and Eye, by George Walker and Jim Tolpin. I learned how to use proportions for design from this book, and also from being lucky enough to hear George talk on this subject.
One of the common misconceptions about this approach to design is that it’s a bunch of rules and constraints. I’ve heard woodworkers say that they don’t want to use a formula for designing their projects. The reality is that using proportions to guide your design decisions is a quick and easy way to help you make something that looks good.
Here’s an example. I’ve made some legs for a stool, and I want to make some chamfers in the section between where the stretchers will go. In the picture below, there’s my leg, a chunk of pine milled to the same dimensions to serve as a prototype, and the ruler I’ll use for figuring out proportions.
First, I needed to figure out how far in the chamfers would go. I could try some direct measurements: 1/4″, 1/2″, 5/8″, and so on. But it’s not clear that any of those measurements would look good. What I learned from By Hand and Eye is that the human eye seems to be naturally drawn to whole number proportions. So I decided to start with 1:6 for my chamfer lines.
To do this, I used a technique to quickly divide the width of my leg prototype into even parts. I laid the ruler down so that the end was at one edge, and angled the ruler until the 6 cm mark lined up with the other edge. I made a mark at the 1 cm mark and the 5 cm mark, which made the edge of the chamfer 1/6 of the way across the face of the leg.
I struck some lines parallel to the edge, and took a look. It looked nice, but I wanted more chamfer and less midsection.
So I erased the lines, and repeated the process, only this time I used a 1:5 ratio. I divided the width of the leg into 5 using the same technique as above, and struck the lines again.
This looked real good to me.
The other proportion that I needed to figure out was the bevel at the end of the chamfer. For this, I tried a 1:8 proportion, dividing the length of the section between the stretchers into 8 parts, and going in 1/8 of the distance from each end.
I got luckier this time. A 1:8 ratio looked real good to me right off the bat. So I whacked away at the waste to get the prototype in the photo at the top. I was pretty pleased with the result.
The beauty of this method is that I didn’t have to use any math calculations. It’s not like I measured the width of the leg, divided by 6 and 5, and measured in that amount from the edge. All the layout was done without any arithmetic.
And this was also far easier way to decide where to place my lines for the chamfer than arbitrarily picking a measurement that might not look very good. That 1:6 ratio that I started with wasn’t terrible. It was just not enough for the look I was going for.
So for your next design project, give this a try. It’s quick and easy, and not limiting by any means.
(Note: the link to the Lost Art Press website above is for convenience only. If you happen to buy the book, and you should, I don’t get anything from the sale.)
|setting up for mitering|
|out with the old and in with the new|
|rabbets are next|
|get a ridge|
|cleaned it up with the bullnose plane|
|done and with no blowouts|
|6/8 tongue and groove planes|
|I didn't do any work on the irons|
|made the tongue first|
|plowed the groove|
|went through this knot like it wasn't there|
|it is a snug fit|
|I was expecting more room underneath the tongue|
|5/8 tongue and groove|
|7/8" tongue and groove planes|
|they match up|
|5/8" tongue and groove|
|one of these, or both don't belong to either plane|
|#1 and #2 grooving plane irons|
|they are marked 5/8|
|next T&G planes - irons line up|
|I haven't done any work on the irons|
|where the size confusion is|
|half inch stock|
|better centering of the groove on 3/4" stock|
|fits, not quite flush, and the groove is deeper than the tongue.|
|pretty close on the flush|
|the iron end is square|
|the iron is twisted?|
This was my fun in the shop for today. I stopped to go shovel the driveway and that wore me out. After that adventure I spent the rest of day watching Richard Maguire's sharpening videos.
What are the only two words in the english language that contain all the vowels, including y, in alphabetical order?
answer - facetiously and abstemiously
The genesis of this blog was a visit to Atlanta in February of 2012. I attended the Cathedral Antiques Show, which I think is the finest antiques show I have ever attended. Nothing but the best with prices and hors d’oeuvres to match.
A dealer there had a game table I had read about but never seen. It has a mechanism for table support that is unique. It was a gorgeous table with a high level of appropriate decoration. The dealer was anxious to show me the table and explain in great detail the history and construction of the table. It was amazing.
Only problem was that the show had a rather strict “no photography” policy. The dealer was sympathetic but was more concerned about his status as a dealer than my blog. That I wasn’t writing yet.
I finally found another table of this design at an auction a few weeks back. I can finally share this different table with you, my loyal reader.
But first, a prime on game table technology. The game table or card table for the purposes of this blog refers to a relatively small table with a folded top that opens to reveal a flat surface that is meant for playing cards or other games. There are many forms and variations of this table including:
The one-legged table:
I have not seen a two-legged table. It could be that there is a trestle table with a folding top, but I’ve not seen it.
A three-legged table might be possible but, again, I’ve not seen one.
What comes close is actually a four-legged table:
In this implementation, the fourth leg pulls straight out of the rear apron to support the top.
A variation of this table:
Then we advance to the four-legged table. This variation has a hinged or gate leg that swings out to support the top:
This table needs two legs to make it happen:
(I was looking for through my library for a picture of this type table without luck. Then I went over to an auction Wednesday to preview on online auction and found this one being readied for the next auction.)
Let’s not forget the five-legged table:
This is an example of the table for which I have been searching for these five long years:
English Queen Anne Card Table
Description: Mid 18th century, mahogany, mahogany veneer, shaped top with molded edge, opening to reveal felt lined interior, skirt with herringbone line inlay, cabriole legs featuring acanthus carved knee, raised on pad feet.
The side view led me to believe that I had found it:
Using my spiffy camera with live view and rotating/swinging back I was able to shoot up and see what lay beneath:
There was a mechanism that unfolds and allows the back apron to fall back well over 18″ to support the top:
This view shows the board that slides in the groove to lock the back legs into place.
This blog has been five years in the making. Was it worth it? We’ll know when awards season arrives.
Editor’s Note: One of the many exciting books in the works at Lost Art Press is Joshua Klein’s book on Jonathan Fisher (more on Fisher here). Fisher was an ingenious American colonial polymath and woodworker who could fashion almost anything out of wood – a clock, a lathe turned by a windmill, his own tools, furniture for his town, convertible beds and on and on.
This project will be in our hands for editing soon and you’re going to hear a lot more about Fisher and Klein’s personal journey of discovery in researching Fisher. In the meantime, here’s a crazy story about the lengths Joshua is going to for the book.
— Christopher Schwarz
I remember talking with Don Williams about his struggles working on the H.O. Studley book, “Virtuoso: The Tool Cabinet and Workbench of Henry O. Studley.” He said the challenge was unearthing information about who H.O. Studley was. Don searched far and wide to understand the story of this man and his legendary tool cabinet. Studley left no paper trail of letters describing his work, little if any of his other woodwork has been identified and much of the research required extensive traveling. Talk about a complicated project!
When Don visited my wife and I in Maine a few years ago, I took him through the Jonathan Fisher house. As we walked around the house looking at artifacts, we discussed the fact that the Fisher story has the opposite problem. Fisher’s house (five minutes from my own) is full of furniture, tools, paintings, journals, letters, etc. The archives are brimming with tiny little notebooks full of 18th- and 19th-century script, most of which was written in a shorthand he developed at Harvard. There are boxes of drawings, historic photographs and archaeological findings. Digesting this enormous body of information in order to discern a cogent furniture-making narrative would be an enormous task. If Studley was about accumulation, Fisher is about distillation.
As I was writing the chapter about Jonathan Fisher’s barn workshop, I was presented with the task of bringing together all of these artifacts into one scene. I know them all so well and am so immersed in the journals that I could picture it in my mind. His “tool closet” of planes, his lathe in the background, the sheep in the corner, his bald head and the “grave” demeanor on his face. It was almost like I was there. The problem was to describe it to the reader. Although I explained the setting as best as I could, I realized that looking at photographs of objects was not going to be enough. I wanted the reader to see things in context.
To my knowledge, no one writing a historic monograph on a pre-industrial furniture maker has ever commissioned an artist to recreate a workshop scene. Usually, there just isn’t enough information to create such a thing. But because almost everything from Fisher’s shop is either extant or we have paintings or photographs of it, I knew it was possible.
Is it necessary? No. Is it awesome? YES!
Fortunately, I’m working with Chris and John on this book so, of course, they were game. I contacted my first-choice artist, Jessica Roux, from Brooklyn, N.Y. I’ve admired Jessica’s work since seeing it on the covers of Taproot magazine. It struck me right away because it reminded me of Fisher’s own balance of academic training and folk whimsy. Also, the way she uses color and texture reminded of the many 18th/19th-century workshop paintings we all drool over. Her aesthetic vision seemed just right for this.
When I explained the project to Jessica, she was interested. I expressed how important historical accuracy was and she assured me she was used to several rounds of back and forth with authors to make sure things were conveyed correctly.
With the green light, I assembled images of the tools, historic paintings and Fisher himself and sent them along with a rough compositional sketch as a starting point. Then the back and forth began. During the last three weeks, Jessica has been refining a sketch that Chris and I will approve before she creates the final image. The color will happen in a magical digital process I look forward to learning more about.
We hope this artwork will bring Jonathan Fisher to life for you as you read this book. His life was one full of beauty, drama and lots of wood shavings — I can’t wait to share this unbelievable story.
The manuscript will be in Chris’ hands in a matter of weeks. Stay tuned.
— Joshua Klein, Mortise & Tenon magazine
Filed under: Uncategorized
Brian Stuparyk at Steam Whistle Letterpress is cranking up his Vandercook proofing press today to print the 500 copies of “Roman Workbenches.” I spent some time with his this morning as he adjusted the press for the run – tracking down an odd squeaking noise and adjusting the rollers to get the right spread of ink.
Printing the four signatures for the book should take about a week. Then the pages head to the bindery in Massachusetts. We’re still on track for shipping the book in April (though crappy weather, a trucking strike or a mutant squid attack could always throw us off).
Our customer service line, firstname.lastname@example.org, has been buzzing lately with questions about this book. Here are answers to the two most common questions:
Question 1: Is there a waiting list if people cancel their orders or there are extra books available?
Nope. No waiting list. If we have extra books or unbound copies become available, we’ll figure out how to sell them after all of the 500 people who ordered the book have an undamaged copy and are happy.
Question 2: Are you going to print a standard edition that is less expensive?
We hope to. I’m off to Italy next week for some additional research. And I really need to get to Germany for some important sleuthing – probably in June. If these trips are fruitful, I’ll probably expand the book with photographs and the additional information.
I think these benches are fascinating and have a lot to teach us. But I also don’t want to end up insulating my house with unsold copies of “Roman Workbenches.” We have been taking a lot of financial risks lately (deluxe “Roubo on Furniture” for one), and so I’m in a cautious mood.
— Christopher Schwarz
Filed under: Roman Workbenches, Uncategorized
I bought this Norris mount cutting knife (made for Buck) ages ago as I really liked the look and feel of it.
The blade is sharpened at a very low angle to a spear pint on both sides of the blade, ie 4 bevels in all. I ground the bevels and finished off on water stones and it gave a super sharp point which was easier to achieve than I had envisaged.
Oliver Sparks made a small batch of modern high quality copies which can see on his Blog
The other end of the blade had been formed into what looks like a small 'split nut' screwdriver, not exactly sure what for. The picture below shows the construction with a central brass tube and flat sides which were bent over the wood of choice.
Time to use it!
I am often asked about breadboard ends on furniture. I think mostly because they do trim out flat tops and tables nicely and they also help to constrain tabletops to prevent movement such as cupping. The main issue mostly is that the width of wood expands and contracts across its width but so minimally in …
RULE 1 – Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff
Don’t sweat the small stuff. I have heard this saying over and over throughout my life. It always made a kind of sense to me, but had never become real to me until I stitched it together with the next two “Rules” .
Not sweating the small stuff could be taken as a polar opposite to what constitutes craftsmanship. The taking of the time and the effort to “sweat the details”. This is NOT how I choose to use the phrase here. I insist that a craftsman deliver their own, best effort, at all times and in all their projects. No corner cutting.
Rather, by embracing rule 1, it sets the stage for a woodworker to free themselves from fear. What I mean here is that in woodworking, and in life too for that matter, Fear is often times the major stumbling block to those good and satisfying things we wish to have in our lives. Fear is a barrier to attaining what we want in our heart, to accomplish.
Fear of failing, fear of embarrassment, fear of not measuring up to our peers. There seems to be no end to the number of things that we as people, let alone craftspersons, can convince ourselves to be afraid of.
By adopting a philosophy of “not sweating the small stuff”, we open ourselves to possibility.
Sure, all those things we convince ourselves to be afraid of don’t just go away. The chance that we might fail or be embarrassed surely do exist and may indeed come to pass.
The difference is, if we adhere to these three rules, and do so with genuine and honest effort, we can reach a place of Madcap Nirvana. That is to say, we just don’t care if we fail, we just don’t care if we do something embarrassing. We embrace the failure, we embrace the embarrassment.
A key element of Madcap Nirvana is redefining failure or embarrassment or other negative, fear driven outcome, as an outcome other than what we initially had hoped for. In embracing the possibility of outcomes other than what we initially had hoped for, we open ourselves to what is, rather than what should be.
Taking this a step further, it is in the acceptance and willingness to embrace what is, over what should be, that we can find avenues of creativity and discovery that would otherwise have been unavailable to us were we to remain fixed in the focus of what should be. Learning to operate in acceptance of what is creates an environment that allows the artisan savor each moment in the creative process fearlessly.
RULE 2 – It’s ALL Small Stuff
It’s all small stuff, and I can prove it…If you woke this morning, were able to open your eyes, see the dawn, wiggle your toes, stretch, feel the sun on your face, smell the lilac, walk to the kitchen and make fresh coffee… those things, are BIG STUFF.
Everything, and I want to emphasize this, EVERYTHING else is small stuff. The rest of your day is icing on the cake. Just realizing that having the ability to do those things I mentioned above, is reason enough to take the rest of the day as something to be grateful for, enjoy, and hypothetically would make the rest of the day something of a vacation day.
That is in spite of having to go to a job we dislike, or having to interact with people that leave us with a bitter taste in our mouth. We are ALIVE, and…and this is another big one… we are alive and have the ability to go out to our shop and make shavings or make sawdust.
What an amazing gift that is!
So if those dovetail joints don’t fit just right, or that board is not as square as you had hoped it would be….so what? So what if it looks like a failure?
It’s a demonstration of effort. It is a celebration of our ability to take advantage of having opposable thumbs. It’s an example of a creative soul attempting something different. That alone makes the attempt worthy and worth doing. Everything else, just as in the example above, is gravy.
RULE 3 – NEVER FORGET RULE 1 & 2
This rule sounds almost flippant, or as something said as a joke or tag line, but is actually the most important rule of the three.
I try every day to remember not to sweat the small stuff. I try every day to remember that it is ALL small stuff.
Am I successful? Sometimes yes…and…sometimes no…and that’s just fine.
Sometimes I forget that it is amazing that I woke up in the morning. Sometimes I forget to wiggle my toes. Sometimes I forget that each day is remarkable simply because I am alive to experience it. It’s natural. It is part of the human experience to live some days with less than monastic meditation and gratitude each and every moment.
However, on those days when I remember rules 1 and 2, I find that I enjoy, even the smallest victory, more vividly. I find that things seem to flow more smoothly. In those times when the inevitable mistakes are made, I try to remember to embrace them, and look for the lesson in them. Or look for the discovery in them. Or look for the creative method to manage, or even fix the mistake. If i’m faithful in this, I nearly always find what I am looking for.
Remembering these rules has absolutely changed the way I experience the world. I would be willing to wager that it may be a game changer for others as well.
I would say this though, take the three rules and make them uniquely your own. Don’t take my word for it. It is through the prism of an individual’s experience that these rules should be applied. Apply them to your own experience in a way that makes the “rules” yours.
I submit them as an example of my own experience, and fodder for contemplation and consideration, not as gospel. It would be presumptuous of me to make the assumption that these three rules are universally applicable. They may very well not be. They are truth in my own experience of life, and it is my hope that they are in someone else’s as well.
John McBride is a professional woodwright, blogger, and writer, living and working joyfully and with abandon in Denver, Colorado.
Digital woodworking comes with a lot of moving parts: new hardware; new software; new methods and skills. But it’s the machinery itself that gets most of the attention. CNCs, Laser Cutters and 3D printers are all impressive machines. Watching them work, and the resulting precision, is the main focus of this new way of woodworking. With all that amazing machinery magically moving around, it’s easy to miss the most important […]
I must admit that I am a latecomer to the “Real Craft” conversation. Many words have been written and many ideas exchanged over what exactly constitutes craftsmanship. Is it simply the act of making an object “by hand” (whatever that means…)? Is it running a CNC router from your laptop? Is it the practice of only recreating traditional forms with traditional tools? It seems folks have some strong opinions on every side of this debate.
The term “craft” has always carried me back to my childhood. Back then, my mom and grandmother would occasionally engage in bursts of productivity on their sewing machines, creating a wide variety of marketable items: baby quilts, dolls, and Christmas decorations. We would gather them up and bring them to what were called, in central Pennsylvania, “craft fairs”. As I got older, I helped a bit with our product diversity, making painted wooden animals or cute little pine snowmen with twig arms. We often did quite well, and my portion of the sales was generally spent on baseball cards. Because of these experiences, I’ve long associated the term “craft” with sweet little old ladies in extravagantly embroidered sweatshirts and copious amounts of Spanish moss hot glued to bric-a-brac. That, and the smell of cinnamon. Of course, this is a very incomplete (and likely inaccurate) picture that illustrates the importance of defining our terms properly.
David Pye has long been THE go-to resource for defining terms when it comes to craftsmanship. Since he first published The Nature and Art of Workmanship back in 1968, Pye’s nuanced argument has been the foundation for any deep discussion on the philosophy of workmanship. He writes as a maker himself, a true master of turning and carving. Even coming from this pragmatic standpoint, Pye considers terminology and definitions to be of vast importance in this conversation. He relates this story:
“Tzu-lu said, If the prince of Wei were waiting for you to come and administer his country for him, what would be your first measure? The Master [i.e. Confucius] said, It would certainly be to correct language.” After Tzu-lu argues vehemently that this is a secondary issue in running a nation, Confucius comes back bluntly: “Yu! How boorish you are!” He then describes the importance of accuracy in defining terms. “If language is incorrect, then what is said does not concord with what was meant; and if what is said does not concord with what was meant, what is to be done cannot be effected…”
In short, if you and I don’t understand what our words mean, all conversation is essentially pointless. The Nature and Art of Workmanship, then, is Pye’s dictionary for craftsmanship and, in the words of John Kelsey, it “remains the only useful framework we have.”
So how did Pye define “craftsmanship”? Readers of M&T are probably familiar with the term “Craftsmanship Is Risk” – the reference to Pye emblazoned on the back of our new t-shirt and stickers. Let me say first what it doesn’t mean. The “risk” involved isn’t to the maker – you know, sharp edges are dangerous and all. Hand-tool woodworking is not some thrill-seeking extreme sport, like BASE jumping or Skyrunning (though that’s an interesting angle to think about…). Hewing a log barefoot isn’t considered “workmanship of risk” because you could lose a toe, but because “the quality of the result is continually at risk during the process of making.” This is Pye’s definition of craftsmanship. It is inherently risky, because the end product can be destroyed at pretty much any time by the misuse of the unregulated tools of the craftsman.
This “workmanship of risk” is contrasted with the “workmanship of certainty”. Pye cites examples of mass production and full automation as the purest state of this form of making. “The result is exactly predetermined before a single salable thing is made.” The more predictable the outcome of a woodworking operation (i.e. working wood vs. machining wood), the farther we get from “craft”. “All the works of men which have been most admired since the beginning of history have been made by the workmanship of risk, the last three or four generations only excepted.” Here is where craftsmanship implies tradition, as Joshua has postulated before in this post and in his follow-up clarification. Our forebears produced everything with simple tools and the skill of their hands.
In summary, I offer this advice: read Pye for yourself (he is worth the effort). Keep your edge tools sharp, take care in your work, and enjoy the relationship between yourself, your tools, and your materials.
And keep telling folks about the inherent risk of craftsmanship – they might drop by for a visit to your shop to see what you’re talking about.
Wife: He makes everything into a wood pun.
Me: This couch has such great lumber support.
Therapist: Try to stop.
Me: Oakey dokey.— Sinistral Sasquatch (@_sinistroll)January 3, 2017
|flushing the tails|
|need two more shims|
|last one to fill|
|sawing the last thin shim|
|won't be too fat for long|
|partial gap to fill|
|new pine lid|
|flattening a new way|
|knot or something funky here|
|I don't know what this is|
|back to the old kitchen cabinet wood|
|planing the rabbets first|
|just noticed this when getting the lid width|
|opposite side entry|
|opposite side exit|
After I planed down to the pencil lines, I squared up the rabbets. I started with the shoulders first and did the flats that go in the grooves when I fitted them.
|bit of a gap|
|starting to bind with a little more than an inch left to close|
|blew out this corner|
|any scrap will do|
|cleaning up the bevel|
|will it work?|
|I had enough room|
|couldn't remove all of it|
|flushing the bottom|
|forgot the thumb grab|
|I like this gap|
|one of the last boxes I made|
|made this the same time as the one above|
|warming up the OBG|
|glued the bottoms in place with the OBG|
|first coat tonight, second and last one tomorrow|
|branded and dated|
- Overall, the plane is in very good condition with no fault that will take away from it’s ability to surface stock.
- It isn’t a collector’s piece, but it is a very good user.
- There is about 85% of the japanning left on the body.
- The blade has plenty of meat left on it.
- The tote is solid, with good colour, and quite comfortable to work with.
- The knob is comfortable, with good colour, but it does have a surface crack running almost its full length with some bits missing around it’s bottom, a common issue with these earlier planes because they lack the protective ring that were casted into the bodies of Stanley’s newer planes.
- The frog is whole, has a properly working depth adjustment, and while stiff, a properly working adjustment lever.
- The sole has some staining and minor nicks that a 110 year old plane should have.
- The vertical edge of the sole’s heel has some roughness to it but it appears to be from the original casting.
- The mouth is a little rough along it’s forward edge, again appearing to be a result of Stanley’s casting.
- The keyhole in the lever cap also has some roughness to it, a result of some misuse in the past, but it does not effect the plane’s performance or useability at all.
- This is a Type 9 plane.
- Please view the photos of the plane to confirm its quality.
Stanley No. 3 - Type 9
|Stanley No. 3 - Type 9|
|Stanley No. 3 - Type 9|
|Stanley No. 3 - Type 9|
|Stanley No. 3 - Type 9|
|The Body is solid and has about 85% of its original japanning|
|Both sides and sole have been mildly lapped|
to ensure they are flat
|Both sides and sole have been mildly lapped|
to ensure they are flat
|Both sides and sole have been mildly lapped|
to ensure they are flat
|The mouth is rough from the original casting. There is a small|
chip on its leading edge but it does not effect the plane's performance
|The lever cap does exactly what it is supposed to do|
|The lever cap does exactly what it is supposed to do|
|The blade is close to its original length|
and is free from heavy pitting
|The knob has some issues, but none that effect its|
performance. There is a surface crack on the
backside of the knob and as you can see
in this photo, some bits missing around
the bottom, mainly due to no
protective ring in the body casting
|This was the original purpose for purchasing|
this plane - to use it as a cell phone dock.
It worked great!
A couple of weeks back, I wrapped up a three-presentation series on curved components. The last of the series covered bent laminations. (Other parts of the series discussed brick laying and stacked laminations.) Glue application is key. You have to spread glue on thick.
Bent lamination work is a bit more involved because you have to have a form to bend your thin laminations around or against. Also, you’re working with six to 10 laminations, depending on the thickness of your end part.
[T]he only difference I see between [younger woodworkers] and the older generations is the younger woodworkers are apt to use materials in addition to wood – metal, plastic and ceramics. And they are more likely to adopt technology into the things they make – robotics, 3D printing, CNC, laser cutting.
I’ve found this to be true as well. A few years ago I gave a woodworking talk at Maker Faire New York. The demographic there definitely skewed younger than what I see at woodworking events, and there was interest in woodworking, but more so as a means to an end rather than a pursuit that was exclusive of using other materials.
I used part of my talk to spread the woodworking gospel. At one point I mentioned to the crowd that even if one wasn’t particularly interested in making furniture, woodworking was a great skill to have, pointing out that If one needed to make an enclosure for their Raspberry Pi, wood was lightweight, strong, and easy to work with, and that it was much more fun than shaping aluminum plate or sheet metal.
I also remember that the number of woodworking representatives was pretty scarce there. There was me, Nicholas Phillips, Tools For Working Wood, Garrett Wade, and that was it. If the woodworking community wants more younger people to take up woodworking, maybe we should do a better job of going to them.
And there’s this:
One of the things that makes me nuts about woodworking shows is listening to older woodworkers complain about 20-year-olds and how they (among other vices) have little interest in woodworking.
This weekend’s Lie-Nielsen Hand Tool Event was no exception. What was exceptional is that I listened to much of this drivel while people in their 20s and 30s wandered around Braxton Brewing, used the hand tools and talked to the makers. (Emphasis mine.)
Maybe the older folks like their alternative facts.