Author: The Apartment Woodworker

The Apartment Woodworker is a weekly blog with insights, projects and tips for making the most of woodworking with hand tools in confined spaces.

What is “Hand Tool Only”?

I spent the weekend at The Woodwright’s School in Pittsboro, North Carolina. I met Roy Underhill, used the giant dovetail saw and saw some awesome woodworking obscura (like a restored Barnes mortising machine).

Proof I was there: A one-of-a-kind dovetail saw with my water bottle in frame.

I also learned to rive green wood and made a little dovetailed box from poplar and walnut. Not the best dovetails I’ve ever cut, but I’m not ashamed. It was a beginner’s class that my buddy wanted to take, so I only learned a couple of things.

I finished dovetailing so quickly that I got to rive a walnut box lid.

Because it’s the Woodwright’s School, the big theme was “hand tools only”. I have tended lately to call myself a hand tool only woodworker. But I own three large machines for my shop: (i) a double bevel compound miter saw for cutting to rough length, (ii) a 13″ thickness planer for squaring edges and faces once I’ve hand planed two sides true and square, and (iii) a benchtop drill press for repeatable, plumb holes. All three machines are integral to my woodworking. I do not own a table saw or router table.

The only hand-held power tool that gets any regular use in my shop is a cordless drill driver. I also have a circular saw and jigsaw (both used almost exclusively with sheet goods) and a compact router set for quick-and-dirty chamfers and roundovers (or occasionally flush trimming).

So does that mean I’m fibbing when I claim to be a “hand tool only” woodworker? It depends on what I mean by “hand tool only”.

I cut the overwhelming preponderance of my joints with the saw, chisel, brace, and plane. I say overwhelming preponderance because sometimes the drill press or drill driver pulls brace duty. So I draw my own personal line at using machines for joinery when making furniture. That is what makes me, in my mind, a “hand tool only” woodworker.

JPG

Something More Fancy

Rehabbing a moving fillister plane I recently came into hasn’t gone so well. About halfway through (i.e., trying to figure out how to get the iron back in alignment with the wear edges), I decided just to make another moving fillister plane. Seeing as I never got around to the matching right hand version of the DIY rebate plane, this is long overdue.

Here is where I am so far.

I’m sticking pretty close to the traditional design, even re-purposing the iron from the original. But there are a few changes in my version, which I’d like to talk about.

Materials

The original is made of beech, a very traditional wood for planemaking. My version, however, is made from quartersawn hard maple. Also, instead of starting from a single 10/4 billet, mine is laminated from two 5/4 billets. I rarely work in anything harder than ash, so hopefully, using hard maple will allow me to skip the boxing on the wear edge.

Compare the two woods.

I also opted for the “use what’s on hand” approach for the wedge. In this case, a piece of perfectly quartersawn 0.5″ red oak left over from the original shop-made rebate plane. I think it came out pretty well. Red oak has the added benefit being softer than the body of the plane, so the wedge will compress a bit for a perfect fit.

It helps to have a pattern to work from.

Construction

Even had I started from a single 10/4 quatersawn billet, I don’t own all the planemakers floats I’d need. For example, refining the wedge mortise without a side float would have been a nightmare. So to get around this, I cut a shallow wedge mortise in the first billet and then transferred those angles to my miter saw. When those two trapezoidal pieces were PVA glued onto the first billet, I had a full-depth wedge mortise.

But the wedge mortise on a moving fillister plane is closed, so closing it up meant using a dutchman. A sliding dovetail shape might have been more structural, but the square shape allows me to remove the dutchman if I ever need to modify the wedge mortise. I used hide glue for this joint (for reversibility). Despite the sub-optimal color match, I’m pretty pleased with the fit and the results.

Grain direction on the dutchman should match the body of the plane to avoid tearout.

The glued-in dutchman closes the wedge mortise and locks everything in place. I was careful to remove any glue squeeze-out from the wedge mortise, but in the future, if I use this technique again, I will mask everything before gluing. And I may add two screws to reinforce the patch.

All closed up.

Most of what remains for the main body of the plane is shaping. I must square the front of the plane, add the thumb rabbet on the escapement side and roundover or chamfer the rest of the hard corners. Everything will be sealed with boiled linseed oil. Also, I am 99% certain I will use a wheel marking gauge cutter as the scoring spur, rather than add a traditional wedged nicker. That approach has worked well on the first incarnation.

After that, I’ll make the fence and depth stop. Actually, I haven’t decided whether to include a depth stop. But in any event, it’s time to buy some brass bar stock.

JPG

Various Miscellany

It’s that time of year again: Autumn in New England. The most beautiful time of year anywhere in the world. I’d take New England Fall over any other season in any other location. It’s also my most productive time of the year for woodworking. To wit:

The guest room bed frame finally got a coat of paint. General Finishes Milk Paint is such a joy to apply and I think their Driftwood color goes with anything. I need to eventually add the chamfer detail on the base of each leg, but it works for now.

Not bad for home center Douglas Fir.

The entire guest room is actually done now, replacement ceiling fan and all. If it weren’t on the southwest side of the building, I daresay I’d make this the master bedroom.

And I finally found a good place for that blanket chest.

I also upgraded the workbench a smidge by increasing the capacity on the crochet. 1.75″ just wasn’t enough. Adding a 0.50″ red oak spacer (a species I find similar to ash in many respects) brings the overall capacity to just over 2.25″.

It’s not a perfect match, but at least the hurricane nut doesn’t bottom out.

Finally, I started work on a couple of bench appliances. One is a benchtop bench, that starts by laminating some old 3/4″ plywood that I reclaimed from up in Vermont. Four pieces of 3/4″ plywood makes a 3″ thick slab that is stable and heavy. This will likely replace my Milkman’s Workbench as my traveling woodworking bench.

Laminating plywood is not easy, but having a perfectly flat section of workbench helps.

The other benchtop appliance is a David Barron-style shoulder vise that clamps onto the benchtop (like a twin screw Moxon Vise). This will likely end up as another ash/red oak amalgamation and is made from scraps as they become available. And I plan to re-purpose the screw and hub from the failed face vise.

Looks a bit like a crochet at the moment.

There are a few bigger things in the hopper, but for now I’m still clearing projects and making shop furniture.

JPG

To Last Forever

Some of my pieces are utility furniture that could easily be purchased at an IKEA or Bed, Bath & Beyond. And those store-bought pieces would serve their purpose just fine for a modest price. But instead, I choose to make these things by hand. “Why?”, you ask. Three reasons, really.

A very simple wall rack for towels, in situ.

The first reason is probably the most obvious: I enjoy the making. If I didn’t derive extreme satisfaction from the work of my hands, why bother with the sometimes-arduous act of hand tool woodworking? And I certainly wouldn’t write about.

The second reason is probably also obvious: I can make to exact specifications. Store-bought items are rarely just the right size. For example, I needed a wall rack for towels that could fit behind a bathroom door. It also had to hold all my bath towels and hand towels and allow the door open all the way. What is the likelihood I would find a 14″ x 30″ x 7.25″ rack at a store? And in the same color white as the walls? Possible, but unlikely.

Some of the towels are in the laundry or on the hooks/racks.

The third and final reason is less obvious: I can make something that will last. This is the core of the Christopher Schwarz philosophy of Aesthetic Anarchism. The work of my hands is far more durable than anything I can buy at a store. Dovetail and housing joints in pine are stronger than metal screws and dowels in MDF by orders of magnitude. Barring catastrophe or relocation, I will never again need to make another behind-the-door hanging cabinet for the spare bathroom.

Thar be dovetails under that paint.

I do not discount the labor required to produce the piece. But, in my mind, the labor costs are worth the benefits of making it myself.

JPG

In Praise of Dadoes

Sometimes it feels like the only joinery I cut is dovetails. A distant second to dovetails are dadoes (a/k/a housing joints). And the mortises and tenons I cut for the ash sitting bench felt like the first I’d done since building my workbench, and the first for furniture in years. I

n my view, dadoes are the easiest (and most satsifying) joint to get right. You can even cut the dado overly-tight and later fix the mating piece to fit. The thunk of a fully-seated housing joint is a beautiful thing. And it can be a very strong joint, in the presence of glue or nails (or both).

An overly-tight joint works quite well in compressible pine.

Whenever possible, though, I will use a stopped dadoes for the show face of a piece. A through-dado is just fine if it won’t be seen (either on the back of the carcase or covered by a face frame) or the piece isn’t fine furniture. But on the show face, a through-dado looks too much like a mortise haunch to me. No matter how perfect it is, I’d rather have the clean shoulder line.

Isn’t a dado pretty much a shallow mortise with a shoulderless tenon, anyway?

The trickiest part, I find, is the act of fitting the mating piece into the final joint. Boards can cup between dimensioning and assembly. Driving a cupped board into a straight dado is a recipe for brusingt the surrounding face grain. To combat this, I clamp on a caul to flatten the mating piece. After it’s seated, the dado itself will hold the board flat.

Dovetails typically do this work without need for a caul.

On an unrelated note, I’m deciding on whether to paint the wall cabinet before I glue it together. I wouldn’t normally, but I’m using latex (not milk) paint for this one. So working out the kinks on the underside of the bottom board before assembly is probably a good idea.

Probably.

JPG

Needing Something More

It’s a magic thing. Starting from 7 linear feet of home center 1×12 eastern white pine. Adding the plane, the saw and the chisel. Then ending up at the finished piece. In this case, a 14″ x 30″ x 7.25″ wall cabinet, with through-dovetails at the corners and stopped dadoes for the shelf. It is as perfect as I am capable of making.

And perfect for hiding in a bathroom corner behind a door!

But it looks a bit plain to me. I can only imagine how drab it will be when painted grey to match the vanity in the bathroom. Rather than shape the sides, though, I may spruce it up with small molded face frame. Or perhaps just an applied moulding on the shelf. In any event, something I can do with moulding planes.

It feels like everything I make is square and flat. Maybe it’s time I learn to cut compound dovetails.

JPG

A Small Oversight

I’ve been on a shop appliance kick lately, including some necessary upgrades for the workshop itself. In addition to finally hanging some proper lighting, I also added a parallel clamp rack to the side wall. I have two more such racks; I just need some more washers to hang them correctly.

Much harder to knock down, now.

I also felt it was time for a tool rack on the back side of the workbench, a la Monsieur Roubo. With a scrap of 1/2″ baltic birch and some pine offcuts, I knocked together a rack that gets the spacing right for my chisels and other everyday tools.

Holes on 1 5/8″ center are just right for Narex chisels (rather than the 1 1/8″ in my tool chest).

I am 100% certain this would have been a 20-minute job if I owned a table saw. Instead, it was about 2 hours of planing, spacing and gluing (not including drying time), but the result was worth it.

That block plane is a clamp.

There is only one problem: I never squared the back edge of my workbench. Time to debate whether to remove the top from the frame so I can square the back edge, or just attach a wedge to level out the surface.

In the meantime, I think I’ll make a “Basic Project” out of it.

JPG

Walking on Sunshine

I had intended to call this post “Let there be Light: the Revenge”, but thought better of it in the end. But the point is the same: proper illumination is an integral part of doing quality work (woodworking or otherwise).

It’s not pretty, but I don’t want to hardwire any fixtures yet.

By now, that I swear by these LED light bars is not news. But as always happens, there is some finesse in the hanging. To hang properly, the hooks in the ceiling should be about 45 inches apart. But in the orientation I desire, that meant hanging on studs 48 inches apart. Too far for just the S hooks to reach.

My solution? Twist some leftover coat hangers from the Roman Workbench mockup.

And I got to use my electrical pliers!

Each is about 5 inches long and much sturdier than the thin wire that originally came in the box. Nothing fancy, totally free, and quick.

The simplest solutions are always the best.

And now I can see what I’m doing. And isn’t that really the point?

JPG

A Brief Flashback

My post the other day reminded me that I never actually posted this.

Once upon a time, as a supplement to my Milkman’s Workbench, I made what I called a “planing slab”. It was 6 feet long, 13 inches wide and about 2 inches thick (after several flattenings), with a Veritas Inset Vise on one end. It clamped to my dining table with angle iron, just like the Milkman’s Workbench. And now, it has reached its full potential.

Yes, that’s a second Japanese-style saw horse as well.

I had always meant to add a cleat to the underside so it could function like a Japanese-style workbench. Nothing fancy, like the sliding dovetail shown in the source material. Just dado and glue. I used PVA, so I’m pretty sure it’s permanent.

So tight, it needed clamp persuasion to seat.

The most important thing I’ve learned in this process is that the coefficient of friction on douglas fir is not significant. A layer of adhesive-backed sandpaper on the underside of the slab in front of the cleat or (better yet) on the tops of both sawhorses does wonders to keep the slab in place. A couple of F-style clamps holding the cleat tight against the front saw horse also work.

JPG

There is Always One

I’m no stranger to angled mortises. But I’ve never done staked furniture before, so when it came time to bore the through mortises into the Roman Workbench slab, I didn’t know what I was getting into. I read and reread the entries in both The Anarchist’s Design Book and Roman Workbenches, and I think I nailed the sight line and resultant angles, but it was still a bit touch and go.

The front two mortises look pretty good.

I should have done a test mortise because, as often happens, the first one is a bit wonky. It’s not quite lined up laterally, and I can tell the rake is off by a few degrees. Not just by eye, but also because it’s the only mortise that had any blowout on the top face. While I can fill in the chipping (and might even paint the top), there is not much I can do about the angle. Luckily, it’s the back right leg, so I won’t see it day to day.

There is always one.

So that means it’s just about time to make the legs. Shaping the tenons without a lathe will be one challenge, but before that, I’ve got to rip down the legs. By hand. Out of 8/4 air dried red oak. At least it will be a workout.

I wish I had a table saw right about now.

Speaking of wishful thinking, it would have been great to know about the Roman Workbench form when I first started woodworking five years ago. This seems like the perfect workbench for getting started in an apartment with a limited set of hand tools. It’s easy to make and straightforward. Hell, you could probably even make the top from a single sheet of 3/4″ plywood ripped four times down the length.

Plus, with an extra cleat on the underside, a Roman Workbench could also go up on saw horses and act like a Japanese-style workbench for added flexibility. And flexibility is the key to apartment woodworking, in my experience.

Like this, basically.

Oh well, coulda, woulda, shoulda, right?

JPG

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: