Ruminations

An Appropriate Soundtrack

One awesome byproduct of handtool woodworking is the ability to enjoy music while at the bench. I just Bluetooth my smartphone to a Bose Soundlink Mini and get to work.

The boombox of a new generation.

The boombox of a new generation.

I have noticed my musical tastes shifting as of late (electro-synth-pop really speaks to these old punk rock bones), but regardless of genre, I find a good soundtrack does wonders for pacing and rhythm of handtool tasks – not to mention providing cover noise for fooling the neighbors and leasing office.

My favorite albums for general woodworking right now are Brand New – Deja Entendu, Fall Out Boy – Save Rock and Roll, and Of Monsters and Men – My Head is an Animal.

If I’m traversing grain or chopping mortises, I might opt for some A Day to Remember, The Offspring or Alkaline Trio for the extra oomph and, if all else fails, I have a DMX/Beanie Sigel greatest hits mix at the ready.

Although I have an extensive collection of stand-up comedy albums, I shy away from them while woodworking, as a stray laugh can and will cause an otherwise straight cut to wander.

If anyone has recommendations for other good workbench music, I’m willing to grooveshark anything.

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Sometimes, Careful Planning is Not Enough

Just about three months ago, I wrote an entry on the “dining” table I built to be the foundation of my apartment woodworking shop (post linked: here).  During its construction, I had envisaged the table (which, by the way, was reverse-engineered from a Restoration Hardware design) as a furniture-quality, rock-solid clamping surface with some much-needed storage space on the shelf below.

And it has not disappointed.

And, thus far, it has not disappointed.

I believe I executed pretty well on that concept.  There is no hint of wobble or bench-based chatter when I am hand planing, and I have (just barely) enough storage below for the powered odds and ends I thought I would use when I switched back to apartment-based woodworking (more on that another time).

During the design phase, I did my best to determine the perfect dimensions for what I’d need to do meaningful woodworking, but there was no way to solve for (or even predict) everything. I’m not saying I would necessarily change any of these dimensions, but, for example:

  • The height (at 31″) is just right for planing, with the top of the Milkman’s Workbench sitting at a very comfortable 33″ (I’m a little over 5’10” and all my planes are iron-soled, FYI), but I still need to craft a moxon-style vise to raise the workholding to a comfortable level for joinery.
  • The top is wide enough (at 50″) to accommodate both the Milkman’s Workbench and a shooting board/miter box at the same time, but not nearly wide enough for planing longer, thinner boards (hence the need for a 72″ planing slab (seen above on the right, planed to final dimensions but still lacking dog holes and inset vise)).
  • The top is deep enough (at 34″) to splay out the tools needed for any particular project, but is sadly too deep for the reach of the boom on my LED task light (solved by locating the clamp-on base to the side, which now gets in the way of some cross-grain planing).
  • The overhang of the top in relation to the frame is wide enough (at 4″) for ease of clamping a variety of benchtop accessories on all four sides (e.g., Milkman’s Workbench, miter box, saw vise, task lamp base, soon-to-be planing slab), but anything less than a co-planar top eliminates the usefulness of the legs themselves as a clamping surface.

The point is, no matter how well you plan, no matter how much thought goes into the design or care goes into the execution, it is only a matter of time before the shortcomings and mistakes become apparent.  In making the best of a less-than-ideal situation, any solution to an existing problem could also be the genesis of a new, unforeseen issue.

And that, more than anything, is the essence of small-space woodworking.

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Necessity versus Generosity, or Why I Make Things

A Venn Diagram of my woodworking motivations would consist of two, significantly overlapping circles: necessity and generosity.  It turns out (unsurprisingly) my joy is in the making and I don’t form great attachment to the finished piece.  So unless there is a concrete need on my end, odds are high the final product is going right out the door (usually to someone who has a concrete need on their end) and I will move on to the next project.  Some examples may help.

Necessity:

Coffee Table
Slate-top Side Table
Media Console

When I vacated my previous apartment for my leave of absence, I gave away almost all of my furniture, including my living room set (which I had acquired prior to taking up apartment woodworking).  I did this on purpose, so I would have to build myself a coffee table, side table and media console while I was on my leave of absence. They had to be ready for when I moved back down full time to Connecticut because, otherwise, I would have an unfurnished living room, which is no fun at all.

Be it an original design or a reverse-engineering from a high end furniture retailer (I subscribe to all the catalogues), each piece is custom fit to my needs. As soon as my needs change, the piece goes out the door.

Generosity:

A footstool for my niece and nephew (a second, similar version is in the works).
An under-desk stool for my buddy to elevate his legs after a long run.

I enjoy making footstools.  They’re really just tiny tables (usually for tiny people, like my niece and nephew).  The stock preparation is manageable (the biggest piece is usually 14″ x 11″ or so, at most) and the joinery is straightforward (dovetails and/or mortise/tenon).  As an added bonus, they are meant to be literally stepped on and are usually stored on the floor (probably in the bathroom) for their entire working life, so a stray tool mark or other aesthetic imperfection is (relatively) meaningless.  As a result, footstools make excellent scale test models for design elements in future projects.

I’ve made other pieces as gifts (benches, side tables, storage containers, other things), but footstools continue to be the most popular.

In the end, though, be it necessity or generosity, I don’t think the reasons matter.  Like I said, it is the making I enjoy most, not the having of the thing that I made.

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