A Woodworker's Musings

perseverare autem diabolicum. 

So… you make one mistake, you’re just human.  But, if you continue to do the same thing, the Devil’s in your head, or you’re just plain stupid.

The last time I carved in Ash, I make a solemn promise to myself that I wouldn’t do it again.  But hey, I never claimed to be the “brightest penny in the purse”.   Recently I decided to replace our old “coffee” table with something a little more..uh, unusual.  The goal was a table that had some period influence, but was rather unique.  I decided to do a “bandy-legged” design that harkened back to the Oriental origins of much of what we recognize as late 18th century English and American furniture.  I decided to do an ebonized finish, which meant I wouldn’t need to use the best of “show” woods.  What did I have at hand in large squares?  You guessed it, baseball bat material!  Here we go again.

After sharpening up the tools, I went to work.  There were moments that I wished for a power carver or a 4″ grinder.  My design has a very curved “ankle”.  The shape is easy to draw, but presents some real challenges when you’re carving it with conventional tools.  (Carving against the grain in Ash just isn’t going to happen, trust me.)  After hours spent cursing under my breath (and sometimes out loud), the task was completed.

In the Oriental tradition, these legs would be in the “Dragon’s foot” family.  Whatever they are, the table frame looks like it’s going to chase me right out of the workshop.

Now to turn it black and “top it off” appropriately.

“Pedestrians” (non-woodworkers) might assume that slicks are for chopping holes in preparation for the next ice fishing tournament.  Most woodworkers identify slicks with timber framing and boat or ship construction.  It’s not unusual that, upon seeing a slick,  people will feel compelled to tell the story of how their Uncle Joe lost his toe when his slick became separated from its handle.  But the slick is a paring chisel, albeit a very large paring chisel.  The slick’s design does vary somewhat from most paring chisels, in that it usually has a “thickened spine” and it is slightly curved in its length.  Also, most old slicks have a slightly cambered cutting edge.

A 3″ slick compared to a 2″ socket firmer chisel

Most furniture builders would not consider a slick the type of tool that would lend itself well to their endeavor.  But a few days ago, I needed to trim some leg posts flush with the aprons of a “bandy-legged” table I’m working on.  Anyone who has done this task will agree that it is difficult due to the potential of  tear out and edge breakage.  So I decided to take a little different approach.  Knowing that slicks are used to trim tenons, I decided to see how a slick would do on the leg posts.  Surprisingly, it worked very well.

Let me say, without hesitation, that a slick, like any other edge tool, needs to be razor sharp to work as it is intended.  I was careful to pare with the grain and at an acute diagonal, much greater than the above illustration would indicate.  Taking narrow, adjacent cuts seemed to work best and I took extra care when nearing the arris of the post.  A little planing and scraping was still required.  But, all in all, the slick worked very well in removing the bulk of the stock that needed to be trimmed away.

So before you start clearing your drive after the next ice storm with that old slick you picked up at someone’s garage sale, consider the possibilities…

I’ve learned over the years that beauty can be found in the most unexpected places.  But most of my friends and acquaintances would probably agree that a sawhorse would not usually be held up as an object of adoration.  Well, unless you’re already familiar with the work of Master Carpenter Louis Mazerolle and the French journeyman carpenters of the late 19th and early 20th century, get ready to change your view.  Erase that image of the paint stained, cut up,” always needs to be tightened” thing you’ve been working with and feast your eyes.  Try not to go all agog…

This is not simply a sawhorse.  In French it is called a treteau.  But a treteau is still a trestle.  But this is much more.  This is a laboratory in the practice of precision joinery and projected angle drawing that once understood, truly makes the journeyman a master.

The treteau above may well be the work of Mazerolle and Les Compagnons de Devoir.  But the trestle below is clearly Mazerolle’s design as is comes from his book, Traite Theorique et Pratique de Charpente:

The treteau above is incredibly complex with diagonal bracing turned in such a way as to make it extraordinarily difficult to project.  I found this photo on Yahoo France.  I apologize for not being able to credit the craftsmen who completed this work.  It is amazing and I salute them.

Chris Hall of the Carpentry Way Blog, has completed a beautiful version of Mazerolle’s treteau.  He’s documented the process beginning in his January 2009 post.   Search for the posts marked Treteau.   Mr. Hall’s persistence, commitment to craftsmanship and his generosity in sharing his efforts is sui generis.  He also presents a Treteau dit Cadet, which is probably a better place to start for most mere mortals.

Another website which offers more discussion on the construction of a proper treteau is Association Bois de Brin.  Simply look for the plan d’un treteau.

We all need several good stout sawhorses.  And, building traditional treteaux is a way of perfecting joinery skills that are rarely used in the course of everyday furniture making or general woodworking.

BTW, when you visit The Carpentry Way, be sure to check out Chris’ gallery of work.  The guy’s good…very good.

I love to build furniture.  My guess would be is that most woodworkers would put furniture building right up there at the top of the heap as an expression of skill and ability.  But after more than fifty years of experience in interior joinery and architectural carpentry, I might be inclined to take issue with that notion.

There are four words that will make me take immediate notice each time I hear them;  Post, beam, mortise, tenon.  Put together with the appropriate conjunction, these words describe a building process that has provided human beings around the world with structures that range from the lowly cow shed to the soaring cathedral.  Post and beam – Mortise and tenon.

Look at a pile of dismantled barn timbers and it suddenly becomes obvious.  This is complicated work.  This is work that requires skill and ingenuity.  This is work that requires mastery over subjects like geometry, as well as artistry.  This work requires physical strength, as well as intellectual stamina.  This is big work, magnum opus.  Heavy timber work.

Joined timber construction is amazingly strong and durable.  It utilizes a renewable resource that is, usually, at hand.  And, in many cases, salvaged timber will work as well as something fresh from the log yard.  Timbers can be sawn or hewed.  Many times an irregularly shaped timber will be used to take advantage of its natural strength.

The beauty of timber joinery cannot be overstated.  And I am struck by the tremendous similarities of Oriental and Occidental joinery.  While it’s true that the actual process of cutting the joints might be somewhat different, the results are usually the same.  The same types of scarf joint will be found in Japan, France and England.  However, if you watched these joints being made in these three areas, you’d be surprised at the difference in technique.  (There is no RIGHT WAY! – only the way that works for you)

from “The Art of Japanese Joinery”

Anyone who has built furniture in a one man shop knows that it is a solitary job.  While solitude, in itself, can be spiritually rewarding, most of us need some peer contact on a regular basis.  Being complimented by a fellow carpenter is very much akin to being awarded an Academy Award.  Your peers know the level of your skill by their own experience.  And, the term Master Carpenter is more often an honorific conferred by brothers and sisters in craft, rather than a mere licensing document.

When the weather is cold and blowing, I’m content to be in the shop.  But as these spring days begin to warm, I realize that I miss the good natured banter of the jobsite, that has persisted through the ages.  And most of all, I miss working alongside carpenters doing heavy work.  I can think of nothing more rewarding.

From “Art de la Charpente”, Diderot et D’alembert

To learn more about Traditional Carpentry in Europe visit Charpentiers d’Europe dt d’ailleurs.

To download a very good, free booklet on historic timber framing in the United States, go to www.ncptt.nps.gov/wp-content/uploads/2004-08.pdf

If you think you’re a good carpenter, visit Chris Hall’s blog.  But be warned.  Chris’ blog is serious stuff, for serious carpenters.

One hundred years ago, when my Grandfather was just finishing his apprenticeship, most of the world’s population still lived in rural surroundings.  Unless the young craftsman was headed for the city, where specialization was common, he was likely to be engaged in all types of work that were based on working with wood.

On any given day the rural carpenter might lead a team of neighbors in building a barn or house, repair a wagon, build a gate, create a dower chest, spend time above or within the saw pit.  He might build falsework to support the masonry on the new bridge across the creek.  He might build a new sluice at the mill or provide a new bull gear.  In short, the rural carpenter was a central figure in the community.  His importance to rural life cannot be understated.  The master carpenter was surely seen as a steward of arcane knowledge that was vital to the general well-being of the community.  And as I heard more than once, “sure, wasn’t Jesus Christ, his’self, a carpenter?  And St. Joseph, as well”.

Here are a few reminders of what a carpenter’s day might have included in years gone by.