Jumat, 25 Maret 2016
After The War
Last Saturday I spent in the neighborhood of twelve hours busily making sawdust in a flurry. I was participating in a one day shop stool build off and I was losing. The clock hit 2230, I had just finished drawbore pegging all the mortise and tenon joints contained in my stool concept, and I felt it hit me. The big wave of exhaustion.
I knew in my heart of hearts if I pushed myself further and did the shaping of the seat I planned for there was an increasing probability I would damage the work I had already done, or worse, damage myself. My gut was telling me it was time to pack it in and I have spent my thirties learning I should listen to my gut more than I do. The deal was to build the stool completely in a day and I had fallen short of the mark. It was time to concede.
I kicked off the shop furnace, gathered the stool, my camera, sketchbook, and other errata. Hit the lights. Locked the door. And headed inside for warmth, ibuprofen, and bourbon. I didnt pick up or put away a single thing.
Fast forward back to yesterday morning, on the tails of an unusually long work week at the hospital, I opened the door to my haven of sanity, hoping some shoemakers elves had shown up with the polar vortex and everything in the shop would be neat and orderly, the way I usually keep it. It was a long shot to believe something so miraculous could happen. I took a deep breath and looked around.
I guess I would be alone in righting the devastation.
It started just inside the door and the big pile of sawdust on the floor and around my bandsaw.
Along the floor in front of the workbench didnt look too bad, but there was a lot more dust than shavings. Im used to seeing more shavings.
On top the bench was everything I had been working with at the end. I realized I had also left my tool chest open, one of my cardinal no-nos. Cleaning the dust from inside there would take a while.
In my focus, I just didnt realize how much dust I was creating. I leaned a little more power tool than hand tool on this project, particularly to cut time and effort. You can follow my work in the scuff marks on the floor. Like Prince Humperdinck dissecting the sword fight between the Dread Pirate Roberts and Inigo Montoya by their footprints in the sand.
Ive never worried that much about dust collection in the shop. Nine months out of the year I work with the side door and the garage door wide open and a breeze blowing through the shop. I also focus more on my hand tools because I enjoy that process more. The sawdust created by my hand tools has a different quality than that made by my machines. Its heavier, spends less time in the air and gets up my nose even less. I dont have anything scientific to back up those observations, so dont ask.
But lately, I have been using my powered friends a little more than before. In late 2009 early 2010 I started a hand tool sabbatical, wanting to learn how to work in an unplugged capacity. No lie, there was a big learning curve, I mangled some wood and I learned a lot to where I am now. Master by no means, Id call it reasonably competent. Now that my power tools are creeping back into the workflow at appropriate times, I find the way I use them has changed.
I used to approach them from a very production like mentality. "Im going to cut all the boards for this part of the project to these dimensions and I wont move the fence until complete." Its become a lot more intuitive now. I look at measurements less because I know the cut Im expecting to get from saw. Ive almost completely given up crosscutting on my tablesaw and I havent cut much joinery, a tenon or rabbet, on it in forever.
I guess I would be alone in righting the devastation.
It started just inside the door and the big pile of sawdust on the floor and around my bandsaw.Along the floor in front of the workbench didnt look too bad, but there was a lot more dust than shavings. Im used to seeing more shavings.On top the bench was everything I had been working with at the end. I realized I had also left my tool chest open, one of my cardinal no-nos. Cleaning the dust from inside there would take a while.In my focus, I just didnt realize how much dust I was creating. I leaned a little more power tool than hand tool on this project, particularly to cut time and effort. You can follow my work in the scuff marks on the floor. Like Prince Humperdinck dissecting the sword fight between the Dread Pirate Roberts and Inigo Montoya by their footprints in the sand.Ive never worried that much about dust collection in the shop. Nine months out of the year I work with the side door and the garage door wide open and a breeze blowing through the shop. I also focus more on my hand tools because I enjoy that process more. The sawdust created by my hand tools has a different quality than that made by my machines. Its heavier, spends less time in the air and gets up my nose even less. I dont have anything scientific to back up those observations, so dont ask.But lately, I have been using my powered friends a little more than before. In late 2009 early 2010 I started a hand tool sabbatical, wanting to learn how to work in an unplugged capacity. No lie, there was a big learning curve, I mangled some wood and I learned a lot to where I am now. Master by no means, Id call it reasonably competent. Now that my power tools are creeping back into the workflow at appropriate times, I find the way I use them has changed.
I used to approach them from a very production like mentality. "Im going to cut all the boards for this part of the project to these dimensions and I wont move the fence until complete." Its become a lot more intuitive now. I look at measurements less because I know the cut Im expecting to get from saw. Ive almost completely given up crosscutting on my tablesaw and I havent cut much joinery, a tenon or rabbet, on it in forever.
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| Dammit, I even left my chisels out. |
After the war is over, the dust settles down and you get to see what you have left to work with.
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