On sustainability in all its varieties
Harvesting lumber, making use of everything you've got, connecting with others
Hello and welcome to Hungry Woodworker, a newsletter about learning the art and practice of woodworking. I’m Taliesin and one thing I do when I’m not building furniture is take notes; some get edited into essays, which I share every other Thursday. Thank you for being here.
A brief update: My office has turned into storage space. Josiah, my partner, tells me it looks like I’m moving out. Dream on, Josiah!
In today’s newsletter:
Making use of everything from board to dust
The Art of Fine Furniture
Note: I would add links here but for some reason the anchor icons never show up when I need them. Clearly my digital skills are failing me and you.
I hope your next two weeks are full of perfectly tidy spaces that don’t look like you’re moving out. Be well!
Making use of everything from board to dust
Last week I began work on the drawers for my kids’ dressers. The project has dragged on for so long now that though I still consider it a learning experience (what I’d label “professional development”), I’ve scuttled my fancy notions of them being fastener free.
I’m putting screws wherever is necessary in the drawer boxes, I told Dad.
He raised an eyebrow. “Throwing your ideals out the window?”
Ideals, I informed him, only take you so far in life.
We went hunting in his lumber pile for suitable wood, discussed what might work, and then came across his pile of White Cedar.
The Cedar had a lot going for it. The boards were nice and flat, wide enough for even the bigger drawers (roughly 8” and 9” wide), and they smelled great. Also, I’m not going to lie, I loved the fact that the boards are so light weight. I think I’m strong enough (though my youngest child informed me my muscles are only medium), but working with Cedar is like taking a little muscle vacation. One I’m happy to take.
The lumber needed for eight drawers filled the entire shop table. It’s shocking how much wood is needed for a project. A good bit of it ends up discarded.
These long, wide boards eventually got pared down into two piles: 35 1/32” long boards and 15” long boards. In the process, we filled three 60+ gallon bags with sawdust and at least five buckets with cutoffs.
After planing the boards down for a while, we paused to empty the dust collector bags. As we carried them across the yard, we chatted (starting the conversation with our Hans and Frans routine, me goading him about his muscles being too weak to carry the bag—nothing sets the tone for a serious conversation like a little BS).
I told Dad that I couldn’t help thinking about the life cycle of the trees we use.
Dad’s lumber comes from “salvage trees,” he told me. Trees that have fallen or been damaged in a storm. Trees that were left behind by commercial loggers as being not worth the effort. Trees that have to be removed for the health of the surrounding area.
Through these sources Dad has managed to build up quite a collection of lumber in a variety of species. (I’m not saying it’s my lumber, but to give you an idea of how much there is, I could likely build furniture from it for the rest of my life and probably not use it all.)
We talked about how these trees sustain the farm. Not just in the obvious ways, such as furniture (though Dad built their entire kitchen and library and trim…which he’s still meant to finish at some point) or income from Dad’s woodworking business.
The trees sustain the quality of life on the farm. The sawdust, for example, that we were carrying across the yard: we spread it around the flower beds. Dad said that it’s not as good as mulch in keeping the weeds from growing, but that it likely has all the same properties for replenishing the soil and keeping it healthy.
Later, after rough cutting the boards, I carried buckets of cutoffs to a section of covered barn Dad uses to pile wood for the wood stove, which will keep the house warm in the winter.
The trees become the tables we eat at, the dressers we store our clothes in, the trim that gives our rooms a finished look. They sustain the soil with their rich wooden flakes. They generate heat to make the home habitable in the winter.
Would that I could be so multipurpose and useful to all those I love. I suppose that making furniture is my own small way of doing so.
The Art of Fine Furniture
I wanted to share a link to a local woodworking show—I went to the opening, meaning to take some photos, but got caught up in the work and conversations with other woodworkers and totally forgot.
The exhibit showcases work from studio furniture makers, both professionals and hobbyists, in the region. Their pieces are beautiful, sometimes complex, and always have something to teach me.
I chatted with several of the woodworkers, and to a person all of them alluded to the challenges of marketing and selling their work. For several, who are retired, this isn’t necessarily a major focus; they aren’t reliant on an income from woodworking.
But for others, trying to figure out how best to market their work to the right people is core to continuing in the profession. To their own sustainability.
I reflected on how it’s not enough to make high quality functional pieces of furniture. Not enough to be highly skilled with tools and knowledge of wood and joinery. To be competent stewards of a centuries-old craft.
Sustainability is the very practical ability of keeping yourself going day to day. Paying bills. Affording lumber and tools. Not burning out from the highs and lows of an erratic income.
Another aspect of this is how we need each other to survive, and more than that, to make life good.
At the woodworking show, I met another woodworker and asked him how he joined the curved strips of wood to make his trellis, which was on display. He explained his process, talking about how he solved that problem, sharing ideas that will no doubt help me solve future furniture making problems in my own shop.
I also chatted with a woodworker about lumber and told her about Dad’s sawmill and the joy of figuring out how best to cut up a log, the delight in seeing what figure is contained within. She was curious and I introduced her to Dad, who invited her down to work with us on the sawmill sometime.
There’s a lot of generosity in the woodworking community, at least that’s been my experience of it.
Sometimes I imagine standing in a forest, bare feet burrowing into the loamy soil, surrounded by a variety of species of trees. Looking from one to the other, gazing for enough time at each to see their differences in bark and leaves and structure. Yet they’re here together, separate and connected.
Thanks for sharing Tali. It's great to hear how your able to salvage this lumber and it's many uses. Also, Hanz and Franz routine 😂..love it.
Fine wood / grain selection for the panels in the unfinished dressers. I think they look very fine.
You're so lucky to have woods and a sawmill! It seems to me to be like growing and making your own gold :-)
And the last paragraph is beautiful writing.