Hello and welcome to Hungry Woodworker, a newsletter about learning the art and craft of building stuff out of wood. I’m Taliesin and one thing I do when I’m not in the shop is take notes and edit some of them into essays. I share those every other Thursday. Thank you for being here.
I don’t have much of an update this week—still working on the dressers, the main difference is that the weather is much nicer.
In today’s newsletter:
Inconvenience is maybe a blessing in disguise?
What do you think?
A few other essays
I hope you have a good week and that the weather is treating you well in your part of the world!
Inconvenience is maybe a blessing in disguise?
This past week I’ve been doing more work in my shop instead of my dad’s.
I love my little shop—a topic Dad and I have discussed (and likely a future essay) is how shops can be deeply personal spaces, reflecting both the subtle and obvious characteristics, needs, and desires of their owners. The tools easiest to hand say a lot about what a woodworker values and how their time is spent. What gets organized and what left akimbo does as well.
Katie Hudnall’s “workshop is indeed tidy and organized, and unusually animated, which in Hudnall’s case means that inanimate objects have faces and sometimes names,” writes Deirdre Visser in her book, Joinery, Joists and Gender.
Many of the makers Visser profiles work in shared spaces, which brings companionship but also the inconvenience of others.
Maker Jennifer Andersen, Visser writes, “‘both hates and loves the shop’ because, as one of three primary lease holders, she can’t come in and immediately start working on her own pieces. She has to deal with shop operations: Dull cutters, tool maintenance, and tidying up. On the other hand, it is a readymade community of woodworkers, with the potential for friendship, mentoring, critique, and collaboration.”
That inconvenience is on my mind as I stand at the door contemplating my own shop and my reticence to work in it this past week. Why is it easier for me to drive half an hour to Dad’s shop and get right to work than it is for me to walk half a minute and start work in my own?
By all obvious measures, Dad’s shop is way less convenient than my own. First is the drive: 30 minutes to get there and 30 minutes to get to my oldest kid’s school in time for pick up takes quite a bit of time away from the handful of hours available for work.
Second is that being in his shop isn’t just about the work—we’re also talking, joking around, stopping for lunch. In some ways the work goes quicker because there’s two of us and other times it’s slower because we spend so much time chatting.
Third and finally is that Dad’s shop is, well, his. As in, not mine. It’s set up the way he likes.
He loves to tell people the story of me walking into his shop after my family and I moved to Minnesota, taking in the piles of scraps and jigs and tools and so much dust mixed with cobwebs, and saying to him, “Dad, I can’t work in this place.”
I believe I emphasized it with an expletive, just for clarity.
In his telling, I harangued him into cleaning up and harassed him about all the junk he saved. Fast forward a couple of years, he says, “And what does my daughter say to me? ‘Oh, Dad, do you have an extra one of those?’ Of course I do! And who now has piles of wood stacked around my shop? She does! But what does she say about those scraps? ‘Oh, those aren’t scraps, those are useful pieces for future projects.’”
Look, it’s true that if you were to glance in the shop and see a pile of wood he’s saved next to a pile of wood I’ve saved, you might not notice much difference. But there is. Trust me.
In his shop, whether sorting lumber or setting up the table saw to cut dadoes or straight edges, I have a facility and confidence with the tools and space that I don’t with my own.
Part of it is simply that Dad has every tool I could need and backups for his backups.
This includes a table saw permanently set up with a dado blade (it’s been set for 3/8” wide cuts because that tends to be the width we use the most).
A radial arm saw for rough cutting lumber to length, one for precise 90-degree cuts, one we use exclusively for tenons.
He has what I consider our workhorse table saw, a 10” Craftsman with a large cast iron bed; he also has a more powerful and precise 10” Delta Unisaw with an extra large bed that he added on, allowing us to cut big pieces of lumber easily.
There’s the miter saw, router table and probably half a dozen routers and many more bits that I could count, belt sander, edge sander, three band saws set up for different uses, both a 25” planer for all the wide lumber and a 12” planer to more precisely plane material down to narrow dimensions.
I know these machines and their quirks. I know that with the Craftsman table saw, I have to set the fence and then push in on a particular spot of the locking handle to ensure that the fence is lined up accurately.
I know that the standard 1/2” chisel he keeps in his toolbox on the moveable tool cart is sharp enough for most work but when I need precision in my work, I have to go to the cabinet in the back corner and pull out the Marples because those are sharpest.
And when I need to sharpen a blade? I go to the converted wash room and pull out the Tormek wet stone blade sharpener with jigs for multiple tools.
But my ease in his shop is about more than materials and my familiarity with them. I can’t help but think it must also be heavily influenced by connection, our relationship.
I recently picked up the book Humanly Possible by Sarah Bakewell at the library.1 In the introductory chapter, Bakewell writes of E. M. Forster, whose book Howard’s End, she argues, focused on the importance of our human relationships. This quote from Bakewell about Forster's purpose stood out to me:
“[W]e should look to the bonds that connect us, rather than to divisions; that we should try to appreciate other people’s angles on the world as well as our own; and that we should avoid the inward splintering of ourselves that is caused by self-deception or hypocrisy.”
I love that last bit—how close, collaborative relationships keep us from getting carried away on the currents of our own self-delusions. We need challenges to our beliefs and righteous notions, even when it disrupts us from getting things done.
All of which is damn inconvenient, if you think about it. (Josiah, my sweet yet sardonic partner in life, would tell you that it is inconvenient indeed to come between me and my self-delusions.)
And yet, inconvenience can be useful—slowing us down, allowing space for gratitude, a chance to connect instead of just doing work and more work.
Once I wrap this up, I’ll head back to my shop. I’ve got to cut lap joints on the rails and kickers. Then make the parts to hold the drawer slides and taper the legs.
My motivation to be in my shop is higher than it’s been (certainly than when I started shaping my notes into this essay). That’s because I took the time to connect with you by writing this. And because as soon as I get the above steps done, it’ll be time to assemble the carcasses. Which I need Dad’s help to do because all the joinery will make it tricky. An “all hands on deck” activity, as he called it.
After a couple of weeks working solo, I think I could use that right about now.
What do you think?
One thing on my mind lately is how art can be treated as a spectacle. I got to thinking about this after watching a choreographer talk about his process with my child (who is very much interested in dance and choreography). His point was that when all the focus is on the end product, it’s not about the creative process or wrestling with the effort to create.
That’s how I feel about social media when I’ve tried to use it lately. Particularly as it relates to my small business. Digital content feels like spectacle, a sanitized version of the whatever internal madness drove a person to build something out of wood in the first place.
My social media exposure is limited, so perhaps I’m missing something. Maybe there is oodles of content on the internet that is honest about the experience of what it takes to create. Or maybe seeing the messy underside of creation isn’t all that enticing. What do you think?
A few other essays:
You can never have too many clamps—a glimpse into Dad’s shop and his philosophy
Learning the subtleties of mastery—training mind and hands to be ever more nuanced
I’d never heard of Bakewell before. Libraries are magical spaces full of enchanting knowledge that can transform us, if we’re open to it. I am going through a transition in my own life, which has caused a good deal of internal turmoil, and what do I happen to find in the new book section? A book on humanism, detailing hundreds of years of people wrestling with the very same mundane yet pernicious thoughts presently bedeviling me.
Dear Tali,
another good read from you. Thanks! When reading this essay a smile spread on my face, a smile of enjoyment for your facility with language and of the perspectives you bring to the topic of woodworking. I can certainly get stuck in a rut -- isn't there something easily comforting in it? a dull yet familiar despair? -- but I DO enjoy being jolted out of my complacency, so thanks, again.
I think I've found a way to respond to your essays: Split-screen. Your essay on upper half of screen, txt.-document on lower -- scrolling commentary :-)
"... how shops can be deeply personal spaces..." Indeed. I'm really interested in looking at pictures of other peoples shops. You cannot really separate a woodworker from his shop, no? They say so much about the person that made / organized the shop-space and it's possible to deduce so much about the work being done in it. Chris Schwarz, over on the Lost Art Press Blog, posted a picture of his chair-making hero John Brown a little while back:[ https://blog.lostartpress.com/2023/04/13/stay-at-pantry-fields-where-john-brown-built-his-chairs/ ] You get a measure of the man. Another woodworker / shop I cannot but admire is Peter Follansbee [ https://pfollansbee.wordpress.com/ ]. It's ... humbling. In the best sense of the word. And have you seen the 'YouTuber' Mr. Chickadee? [ https://www.youtube.com/@MrChickadee/videos ] He appears to be self-taught, and has built everything you see in these videos from the ground up. It's so damn impressive it would be depressing if it wasn't so ... well done! This is one thing I love about America; Your multitudes contain such talent that is rarely seen and therefore of great interest.
A peculiarity I've noticed about 'woodworking in America' is how it's often conceptualized as a 'rural, old timey' activity, best done at the end of a winding country lane, over a brook, and preferably without electricity. As much as I admire for instance Mr. Chickadee's work and undeniable skill, I cannot shake the impression that it looks like 'cosplay' ... what with the 'historical' clothes and the vintage tools. Why? In my country it's not that farmers did not do woodworking -- of course they did! -- but fine woodworking was always an urban craft; because that's where the money, the jobs, the manpower, the education and the tools were. Of course the farmer would build, repair and make both the buildings (with some help) and much of what he would need. I do not say this as a 'put-down' on farmers as a 'town-boy' -- the older I get, the more I've come to realize what's really important in this world. But: Is woodworking in America viewed as an escape from an awful contemporary society? (I mean no disrespect, but one cannot but notice the great division in American society (and its spreading like cancer to our countries, too), and the (forgive me!) utterly corrupted state of ... things. My hope, my belief, is that 'America' is not really its institutions, but its people. I belive in people. They are human, like me. I can trust humans, but only a fool would trust 'a system'.
"... inanimate objects have faces and sometimes names ..." Ahhh... but what do you mean by 'inanimate' ? I animate my 'objects' whenever I use them, and some of them have considerably more character than some people I know ... No, I do not recognize this distinction :-) They come alive in my hands, and they are my trusted helpers whithout which I would be a subservient office-worker? Pfføy! I know I have a stunted social life -- my patience with the average human is limited -- but I do take part in a conversation spanning centuries through literature -- it's the best I can do it seems. But back to 'objects': I have, for instance, noticed that I get slightly provoked when some hobbyist tells me how 'unsuitable' my bench is. No. Scratch that. I GET FUCKING INCENSED when some armchair amateur'woodworker' lectures me about how the only bench worth having is a Ruobo replica made from vintage French oak. He does so from the safe distance of his keyboard... My bench! That has been my faithful, everyday companion for 25 years and facilitated me making a living ... not good enough!? It's like insulting your mother and they are too stupid to realize ...
The more I hear of your father, the better I like him. A good man is like a tree. He holds the sky up and provides sustenance and shelter. There needs to be a forest of them to make a proper society. My father was a teacher and a good man. I am so proud to be his son, but it seems I am the last of our line. [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fvPynMI6Umc&list=FLAlkGJyffDfjBOsGiw_n_2Q&index=133 ]
"I believe I emphasized it with an expletive, just for clarity." Nice to know :-) Vulgarity DOES have a place in language, as in life. I have one of my favourite expletives from the HBO series ROME where Octavia utters the scripted but funny! (and feminine) "piss and blood!" [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86ui4h0lYqg ] When I'm not swearing in Norwegain, of course. That's a a completely different cauldron of obscenities.
“[W]e should look to the bonds that connect us, rather than to divisions ..." Yes! Now more than ever. There is so much isolation, frustration, anger and unnecessary strife among people today. I honestly believe it is created by social media. It is in their interest to divide in order to rule, and they are our new rulers, make no mistake! It would seem they have 'hacked' humanity, most of us are only averagely intelligent, by definition, and that is no match for our new Artificially Intelligent overlords. The only thing we have that they do not is love. To them it does not compute. Believing in love is like believing in God. God is love. It does not compute, rationally. But when confronted with evil you have to choose. Choose love, despite everything! Love creates; it's opposite is ... ugly and sterile -- that's how I recognize it.
"Josiah, my sweet yet sardonic partner in life..." Sardonic, eh? My favourite rictus :-) At the rate I seem to warm to your family, you might as well adopt me :-) You seem to have the good fortune to be surrounded by men capable of giving you the resistance you need to grow. I can only dream of being surrounded by such women, fallen Adam that I am. Lucky girl, you! And still so young! You'll be formidable! when you relize your true capabilities.
"...getting carried away on the currents of our own self-delusions." What the on-line world facilitates summed up in 11 words. Delusions are pretty and comfortable. No one will thank you for pricking them. So don't. Circumvent the deluded. Let them suffocate on their own delusions. Most people come to their senses (SENSES!) when things starts to hurt, but will indulge their beautiful fantasies until that point. Cold and wet? Want to sit by the fire to dry yourself? Are you my friend? Do you scorn me for cutting the wood that warms you and dries your clothes? Do you despise me for succoruing my detractor? If so: Why should I?
"...space for gratitude..." Yes. This, as they say. Gratitude is the solvent, the softener of souls. All the small, ugly souls I have come to know in my life have that in common that they are without gratitude ... for anything! They are the Lost Boys. Not even bushes, let alone proper trees.
"...and taper the legs." Ahh... but on which side will you taper the legs? On the outside or the innside? [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=58YS9kJ8hm8&list=FLAlkGJyffDfjBOsGiw_n_2Q&index=175 ] Have you considered the innside? Outside straight and firm, strong vertical where the eye notices, but inside tapering makes for subdued elegance. Come to think of it; my notions of aesthetic preferances are so deeply entwined with my sensibilities and heterosexual preferences that I can not differentiate them. I guess I'm just hetero by nature. It's one of the deepest parts of who I am. I can see no reason to be ashamed of that fact. [just for fun : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pllRW9wETzw&list=FLAlkGJyffDfjBOsGiw_n_2Q&index=179]
"Digital content feels like spectacle, a sanitized version of the whatever internal madness drove a person to build something out of wood in the first place." ... you have a way with words ... but, tell me all about it... I am a novice to this online world, where 'share!'and 'be kind or be gone!' are valid exhortations. I did sign on the dotted line, but I do not recollect giving my consent to being an online whore. Then again, I've lived next door to real whores and drunk & laughed with them. They are quite fun to be around, they are fun 'party-girls', it's one of their talents. I do not despise them, but certainly I do not envy them. Their talents are very limited and are usually exploited by bad men, really bad men. The sort of men that should be resisted. Resisted and incarcerated by the State, because what they are doing is no god for no one.
Please do. I think it adds another layer of art to your communication processes, the recording makes it so everyone can participate.