Grandpa's Shop Coat

There are two well-worn shopcoats hanging on coat hooks behind my office door. The names, picked out in red thread, read “Walt” and “Red.” My grandpas. Just looking at their coats easily brings to mind a clear picture of smiling faces topped by shiny bald heads, and round wire-rimmed glasses. They were both woodworkers who loved to be in the shop making sawdust and projects. I can’t point to a specific skill that I learned from them, their lessons were more basic. “You can make anything you want.” "Imagine it and draw it." "Work with precision and care." Laugh. "Bring out the beauty of the wood."

They both encouraged my shopwork.  Many of my Christmas presents for Grandpas were things I made in the shop—bookends, desk caddies—that have come back to me in the end. Grandpa gave me my first ratcheting brace after I expressed amazement that people still used such antiques. Grandpa gave me my first router.

Remembering Walter Burnham and James Rummer ...

Remembering Walter Burnham and James Rummer ...

So why keep their old shop coats around? I have found that a deep, meaningful part of woodworking is doing something that is bigger than me. My hands are holding the same tools that my grandfathers and great-grandfather held. I am cutting joints for a piece of furniture just like they did. I am experiencing the same sights and sounds and smells of sawdust and turpentine. And in the end I am creating something that someone will be able to sit on, hold, use, enjoy for generations beyond me just like they did. When I work in the shop I am not alone, my grandpas are with me, my father is with me, looking over my shoulder, giving advice and encouragement. Grandpa’s shopcoat on the hook says he has just stepped away from the bench for awhile.

What do you see in the wood?

When people look at a beautiful piece of wood with highly figured grain the response is often "Wow, look at that."  A fine finish acts like a clear lens that reveals grain structure some depth into the wood. With changing light or position the grain can have a "shimmer" effect called chatoyance.  Woodworkers can enhance the figure using dyes to highlight deeper grain patterns--a process called "popping the grain."  But all this is the simple visual effect. When you look at this stool seat, do you see the tree? Do you recognize the twisted pattern is from the crotch of a catalpa? The unusual grain pattern is the reaction of the tree to the forces of the wind blowing the branches, the snow weighing it down in winter. Do you see the kids that used the rope swing tied high in the branches? Part of appreciating fine woodwork is truly appreciating the amazing material that it comes from.

The Dance of the Woodworker

Woodworking is a skill that involves a carefully choreographed interaction between the craftsman, the tool, and the material. The material communicates through sound, smell, and reaction force. The skilled craftsman is always adjusting position, force, direction to achieve a precise result. In planing, for example, you start out pushing down on the toe of the plane with your left hand and applying a horizontal push with your right. As the cut progresses you try to maintain a steady speed even through changing grain. At the end of the cut you lift off with the left hand while your right hand pushes the plane all the way through the end of the cut. With practice these moves become more fluid and instinctive.