Wednesday, February 15
Climbing the ladder of Web-Evolution
Due to some exceptional work by my older brother, this blog has now moved to enduringcreation.com instead of blogspot. I'm greatly looking forward to watching this adventure continue there!
Friday, December 9
Finishing a father's work
How ponderous that I read this blog regarding doubt on this particular evening. Kevin, this will not be forgotten, and I WILL get even.
Anyway.
Today I was in a customer's home, a place I'd been a couple times before over the past 5 years, when I was presented with a difficult request. This customer's father had built 2 clocks in his life; one for his wife and one for his oldest son. He had purchased a kit to build a third clock for his younger son, but had passed away before he ever finished assembling it. The clock is a curio-style grandfather clock in solid oak. For 15 years the clock parts have laid in the family garage with no one even looking at them. The son wants his clock, and he wants ME to put it together for him.
I did all I could do show my fear and lack of faith that I could accomplish the task, but this man was persistent. When I told him of other people I knew, professional cabinetmakers who would do a wonderful job, he simply said, "The family knows you, I believe you can do it. Let me load it in your van."
Six hours have passed, and the entire disassembled clock is sitting in my garage. I'm scared to death. This clock means more to this man than all of his worldly possessions combined, and he has given it to me to be completed. I don't know what I'm doing, and I have no instructions. I desperately want to fix this clock for him, and I told him as much, but I also told him that I don't believe I have the necessary skill. He didn't give it a second thought.
I am thoroughly humbled, yet acutely determined. Over the coming months I WILL complete this clock, although I have yet to complete a single one of the projects I set out to do so many months ago when I began this journey. I will give it the absolute best effort I can, and it will meet my ridiculously high standards of craftsmanship.
My customer's late father would accept nothing less.
Anyway.
Today I was in a customer's home, a place I'd been a couple times before over the past 5 years, when I was presented with a difficult request. This customer's father had built 2 clocks in his life; one for his wife and one for his oldest son. He had purchased a kit to build a third clock for his younger son, but had passed away before he ever finished assembling it. The clock is a curio-style grandfather clock in solid oak. For 15 years the clock parts have laid in the family garage with no one even looking at them. The son wants his clock, and he wants ME to put it together for him.
I did all I could do show my fear and lack of faith that I could accomplish the task, but this man was persistent. When I told him of other people I knew, professional cabinetmakers who would do a wonderful job, he simply said, "The family knows you, I believe you can do it. Let me load it in your van."
Six hours have passed, and the entire disassembled clock is sitting in my garage. I'm scared to death. This clock means more to this man than all of his worldly possessions combined, and he has given it to me to be completed. I don't know what I'm doing, and I have no instructions. I desperately want to fix this clock for him, and I told him as much, but I also told him that I don't believe I have the necessary skill. He didn't give it a second thought.
I am thoroughly humbled, yet acutely determined. Over the coming months I WILL complete this clock, although I have yet to complete a single one of the projects I set out to do so many months ago when I began this journey. I will give it the absolute best effort I can, and it will meet my ridiculously high standards of craftsmanship.
My customer's late father would accept nothing less.
Thursday, October 20
The Tale of the Curly Oak
Once upon a time, there was a man with a shed half full of red oak lumber. One day, while on a business trip with his father, the man stopped at a domestic hardwood store. His plan was to browse around and get prices, and maybe spend a little time dreaming of what could be someday in the future when he would hopefully have some money to spend there.
While browsing the vast selections of walnut, cherry, oak, maple, alder, ash, hickory, and elm, the man found a beautiful rare piece of flame maple. The board was quite large, and visions of dozens of electric guitar bodies danced in the man's mind. Sadly, this was a piece of wood that was over $80, and would require at least another $30 to get it into a useful state. The man knew he could not do this, so he bid the lovely piece of flame maple farewell and continued browsing the store.
He came to the selections of red oak and he stopped for a brief moment to savor the dream of working with a board that was already surfaced on the faces (thereby having a uniform thickness), unlike his red oak planks he had in his shed.
The dream was compelling, so much so that it nearly felt real at this moment. But the man's recently discovered pragmatism pushed aside the wonderful dream and snapped the man back to reality. It was in this somber state of reality that he saw the board.
"Hello there, friend. I am Curly, and I am beautiful and full of potential. Thank you for finding me."
The man was taken aback. He stepped away in disbelief. Did this piece of wood just speak? Surely not, for this was not a dream, this was reality.
We all know wood doesn't speak, particularly in reality!
He continued moving to other sections of the store. Maybe looking at some walnut would make it stop. But the walnut was plain and uninspiring. Aha, cherry! Maybe there was something nice in that stack. Pleasant enough, but nothing inspiring here either. The man quickly found other boards to look at, doing anything he could to avoid confronting this bizarre moment with Curly.
Curly? NO! Boards don't have names! This was foolishness. He kept browsing the store, even going back to the lovely piece of flame maple and discussing it with the storekeeper. He struggled to do all he could to avoid the stack of red oak. But the effort was futile.
Curly had cheated.
The man's father, the great tempter, was also browsing the store during this time. He had also seen the top of the red oak stack, and he saw that Curly was beautiful and full of potential.
"How many clock cases do you think you could get out of this one, Brian," the great tempter asked his son.
Had this been a sport, the man would have demanded a whistle be blown. He would have cried foul and raged at the referee. He would have thrown a chair, flung his visor, overturned the gatorade table, and kicked dirt at someone's shoes. But browsing hardwood lumber was no sport, it was serious business.
Curly was winning. The message was undeniable. The board was silently calling out to him, ever so politely. It was not standing there like a succubus, tempting and teasing with its wicked ways. No, it was just laying there silently, patiently; allowing the great tempter to do all the sinister sales pitch work. It was just laying there, so innocent and pure.
The man reluctantly returned to the red oak stack and gently pulled Curly's end out for a better look. The stack was priced at $3.50 per board foot. The man turned Curly over and checked it for wind (that's woodworker-speak for warping) and knots. The board was very good. It was ten feet in length, just under an inch thick, and about six inches in width. The wood grain had a natural figure in it, making the entire board look tiger striped. The man figured it to cost around $18.00. He wanted the board, but he had lots of red oak, and he knew his wife would not be pleased with him buying more.
But Curly was not willing to give in. This board was insistent. It was tired of sitting in the red oak stack and wanted to find a suitable home with someone who could help it achieve its potential. It knew that this was the man for the job, and it would not accept defeat. Curly had one last tool at its disposal.
The storekeeper had heard the great tempter's question to his son. He came over and saw which board was being discussed. Curly knew this was its chance.
"Most of the folks who come here won't buy that board because it is so narrow. If you like it, I'll let you have that board today for $3.00 a foot," said the storekeeper who had obviously been influenced by the piece of lumber.
The man sighed. That made the board about $15.00, and he now knew he was supposed to buy this board. He did not know, however, how he was going to explain the purchase to his wife. He told the storekeeper that he would take it, paid for the selection, and loaded it into his vehicle.
"You just stole that piece of wood. That's a nice board," said the man's father, the great tempter, as they pulled out of the parking lot.
Later that evening, the man quietly pulled into the driveway of his home and opened the garage door. He gently placed Curly in the garage, closed the door and headed upstairs where there was the wonderful smell of a freshly cooked dinner. His wife was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the meal. She turned to the man upon hearing him climb the stairs, and warmly greeted him. The man returned her smile and handed her the receipt for his purchase.
"What's this for?" she asked with a quizzical look.
"It's for the piece of red oak I purchased from the hardwood store in Apache Flats today," the man carefully responded.
"Red oak?!?! Why did you buy a piece of red oak? Don't you have a shed full of red oak?!?!?!" She was clearly not pleased.
"Yes, I do, but not like this piece. After dinner, come down and look at the board. You will understand. It is Curly."
She was still displeased, but was willing to reserve her final condemnation. They ate their dinner in peace, and headed down to the garage. The man opened the door for his wife and turned on the lights. His wife walked over to the board and ran her fingers over it as she gave it a thorough examination.
"It's beautiful, and is full of potential," she stated with decided approval.
The man simply smiled.
While browsing the vast selections of walnut, cherry, oak, maple, alder, ash, hickory, and elm, the man found a beautiful rare piece of flame maple. The board was quite large, and visions of dozens of electric guitar bodies danced in the man's mind. Sadly, this was a piece of wood that was over $80, and would require at least another $30 to get it into a useful state. The man knew he could not do this, so he bid the lovely piece of flame maple farewell and continued browsing the store.
He came to the selections of red oak and he stopped for a brief moment to savor the dream of working with a board that was already surfaced on the faces (thereby having a uniform thickness), unlike his red oak planks he had in his shed.
The dream was compelling, so much so that it nearly felt real at this moment. But the man's recently discovered pragmatism pushed aside the wonderful dream and snapped the man back to reality. It was in this somber state of reality that he saw the board.
"Hello there, friend. I am Curly, and I am beautiful and full of potential. Thank you for finding me."
The man was taken aback. He stepped away in disbelief. Did this piece of wood just speak? Surely not, for this was not a dream, this was reality.
We all know wood doesn't speak, particularly in reality!
He continued moving to other sections of the store. Maybe looking at some walnut would make it stop. But the walnut was plain and uninspiring. Aha, cherry! Maybe there was something nice in that stack. Pleasant enough, but nothing inspiring here either. The man quickly found other boards to look at, doing anything he could to avoid confronting this bizarre moment with Curly.
Curly? NO! Boards don't have names! This was foolishness. He kept browsing the store, even going back to the lovely piece of flame maple and discussing it with the storekeeper. He struggled to do all he could to avoid the stack of red oak. But the effort was futile.
Curly had cheated.
The man's father, the great tempter, was also browsing the store during this time. He had also seen the top of the red oak stack, and he saw that Curly was beautiful and full of potential.
"How many clock cases do you think you could get out of this one, Brian," the great tempter asked his son.
Had this been a sport, the man would have demanded a whistle be blown. He would have cried foul and raged at the referee. He would have thrown a chair, flung his visor, overturned the gatorade table, and kicked dirt at someone's shoes. But browsing hardwood lumber was no sport, it was serious business.
Curly was winning. The message was undeniable. The board was silently calling out to him, ever so politely. It was not standing there like a succubus, tempting and teasing with its wicked ways. No, it was just laying there silently, patiently; allowing the great tempter to do all the sinister sales pitch work. It was just laying there, so innocent and pure.
The man reluctantly returned to the red oak stack and gently pulled Curly's end out for a better look. The stack was priced at $3.50 per board foot. The man turned Curly over and checked it for wind (that's woodworker-speak for warping) and knots. The board was very good. It was ten feet in length, just under an inch thick, and about six inches in width. The wood grain had a natural figure in it, making the entire board look tiger striped. The man figured it to cost around $18.00. He wanted the board, but he had lots of red oak, and he knew his wife would not be pleased with him buying more.
But Curly was not willing to give in. This board was insistent. It was tired of sitting in the red oak stack and wanted to find a suitable home with someone who could help it achieve its potential. It knew that this was the man for the job, and it would not accept defeat. Curly had one last tool at its disposal.
The storekeeper had heard the great tempter's question to his son. He came over and saw which board was being discussed. Curly knew this was its chance.
"Most of the folks who come here won't buy that board because it is so narrow. If you like it, I'll let you have that board today for $3.00 a foot," said the storekeeper who had obviously been influenced by the piece of lumber.
The man sighed. That made the board about $15.00, and he now knew he was supposed to buy this board. He did not know, however, how he was going to explain the purchase to his wife. He told the storekeeper that he would take it, paid for the selection, and loaded it into his vehicle.
"You just stole that piece of wood. That's a nice board," said the man's father, the great tempter, as they pulled out of the parking lot.
Later that evening, the man quietly pulled into the driveway of his home and opened the garage door. He gently placed Curly in the garage, closed the door and headed upstairs where there was the wonderful smell of a freshly cooked dinner. His wife was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the meal. She turned to the man upon hearing him climb the stairs, and warmly greeted him. The man returned her smile and handed her the receipt for his purchase.
"What's this for?" she asked with a quizzical look.
"It's for the piece of red oak I purchased from the hardwood store in Apache Flats today," the man carefully responded.
"Red oak?!?! Why did you buy a piece of red oak? Don't you have a shed full of red oak?!?!?!" She was clearly not pleased.
"Yes, I do, but not like this piece. After dinner, come down and look at the board. You will understand. It is Curly."
She was still displeased, but was willing to reserve her final condemnation. They ate their dinner in peace, and headed down to the garage. The man opened the door for his wife and turned on the lights. His wife walked over to the board and ran her fingers over it as she gave it a thorough examination.
"It's beautiful, and is full of potential," she stated with decided approval.
The man simply smiled.
Tuesday, September 20
A month of silence...
When I began this blog I was considering writing in it daily. I quickly decided against that for various reasons, and now a full month has gone by and I haven't typed a single word. Remember the movie Bambi? What did Thumper's mother always make him say?
That's right, "If you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all."
This has been the reason for my silence. Frustration. Disgust. Rage. Pain. This is the summary of my last month in my humble work shop. The only project I've come close to completing is the creation of a wood plane. It works, but not to the standard I desire. Here's the rundown of all the other projects I've started and not completed:
Clock #1: Cannot proceed until I have an accurate method of surface planing boards to thickness. Can't get my resource people to find the time to let me use their equipment, and I haven't found more resource people yet.
Dice Tray #1: See clock #1, and waiting on materials from the person it is being made for. This project could be finished very quickly once the materials were in hand.
Wooden Hand Plane #1: Stopped just before finishing. Does not meet quality standards, does not meet performance standards. Issues with plane iron. Might require another night at the forge to improve, but the risk for serious screw-up is very high.
Wooden Hand Plane #2: Might be salvageable, waiting for educational materials to arrive before proceeding.
Electric Guitar Body #1: Progress was made when I finally created a design concept that I like. I should have written a blog about this, since there was humor involved. The humor, however, came at my expense, so no blog. The current status of this project is in the same place as Clock #1, with the addition of needing sawing out to shape. My little band saw can't do the job in its current condition or location, and I'm not certain a new blade will make it any better. I have no access to a larger band saw.
Speaker Cabinet #1 for Guitar Amp system: Bought screws that were too short to mount the speakers properly. Need a new box of screws, then must wire speakers, test/repair amplifiers, test speakers, make a decent guitar to play thru amp.
Bow from hickory axe handle: Ready to tiller, cannot proceed without a scale to see how much stress I'm putting on the limbs. VERY close to being ready for finish.
So this is the place I currently find myself: seeing that I lack a critical tool, I lack a critical piece of hardware, or I lack the skill in general to accomplish anything I set out to do. Every time I look at where I am on anything, I see a hurdle I have yet to get over, or more money that I must spend. I'm sick to my stomach about the amount I've already spent. I'm tired of feeling the need to spend more money. It's an addiction, and one I've had for a very, very long time. Video games got me away from it for a long while, but at a great personal cost beyond the financial (wasted time/opportunities).
I've got to find something that I can finish; something with a purpose (or, better yet, a price tag). I've GOT TO find a way to pick myself back up and get out of this funk. I thought leaving the gaming world and picking up my tools would help me build myself up and do things I could be proud of, but right now I'm as low as I've been in a long, long time.
That's right, "If you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all."
This has been the reason for my silence. Frustration. Disgust. Rage. Pain. This is the summary of my last month in my humble work shop. The only project I've come close to completing is the creation of a wood plane. It works, but not to the standard I desire. Here's the rundown of all the other projects I've started and not completed:
Clock #1: Cannot proceed until I have an accurate method of surface planing boards to thickness. Can't get my resource people to find the time to let me use their equipment, and I haven't found more resource people yet.
Dice Tray #1: See clock #1, and waiting on materials from the person it is being made for. This project could be finished very quickly once the materials were in hand.
Wooden Hand Plane #1: Stopped just before finishing. Does not meet quality standards, does not meet performance standards. Issues with plane iron. Might require another night at the forge to improve, but the risk for serious screw-up is very high.
Wooden Hand Plane #2: Might be salvageable, waiting for educational materials to arrive before proceeding.
Electric Guitar Body #1: Progress was made when I finally created a design concept that I like. I should have written a blog about this, since there was humor involved. The humor, however, came at my expense, so no blog. The current status of this project is in the same place as Clock #1, with the addition of needing sawing out to shape. My little band saw can't do the job in its current condition or location, and I'm not certain a new blade will make it any better. I have no access to a larger band saw.
Speaker Cabinet #1 for Guitar Amp system: Bought screws that were too short to mount the speakers properly. Need a new box of screws, then must wire speakers, test/repair amplifiers, test speakers, make a decent guitar to play thru amp.
Bow from hickory axe handle: Ready to tiller, cannot proceed without a scale to see how much stress I'm putting on the limbs. VERY close to being ready for finish.
So this is the place I currently find myself: seeing that I lack a critical tool, I lack a critical piece of hardware, or I lack the skill in general to accomplish anything I set out to do. Every time I look at where I am on anything, I see a hurdle I have yet to get over, or more money that I must spend. I'm sick to my stomach about the amount I've already spent. I'm tired of feeling the need to spend more money. It's an addiction, and one I've had for a very, very long time. Video games got me away from it for a long while, but at a great personal cost beyond the financial (wasted time/opportunities).
I've got to find something that I can finish; something with a purpose (or, better yet, a price tag). I've GOT TO find a way to pick myself back up and get out of this funk. I thought leaving the gaming world and picking up my tools would help me build myself up and do things I could be proud of, but right now I'm as low as I've been in a long, long time.
Saturday, August 20
The Brave New World
To quote my last post:
"Once I have the tools to super-heat steel, the sky is the limit. It will start with a simple annealing job...."
Well, turns out I DO have the tools to super-heat steel. I'm not sure why it makes me giggle to think about the things I can do with a drill press, dremel tool, a piece of copper pipe, a BBQ grill, a small shop vac, and some duct tape...
For the record, I was the one holding the camera, and my sons were all in bed when this picture was taken. That is the hand of my dear silly wife. I asked her to bring me some long tongs, and she comes back down with a kit of grilling tools (that didn't include a pair of tongs) and a bag of marshmallows. Here I was trying to get some work done, and she's roasting marshmallows at my forge. The INDIGNITY.
Yes, of course I ate one. So what.
It turned out that my little forge did a brilliant job. It did not cost me a nickel; I had everything on hand, including the charcoal. (No Brenda, that's NOT the grill you and Edgar gave me for Christmas last year. The grill you bought me enabled me to "re-purpose" this one, which Joy got me for Christmas a few years back!) With a little learning I was able to heat the piece of my old file to the critical temperature where it loses its magnetic properties and is workable, and it is now sitting in a safe place in the shop cooling down so it will be sufficiently annealed.
The camera didn't catch the color of the metal that well, but it was a pale yellow at the time this was taken. I had to use my Knipex to handle things since this household apparently has a severe lack of sizable tongs. All in all I got the job done, and now I can get this piece shaped up far more easily. I'm excited now; I've got big plans for this little piece of steel. With any luck, it will become the heart and soul of a custom block plane to help me with the woodworking. That bit of metal has many siblings waiting for their turn in the forge as well. I am eager now to give them their chance.
Oh yeah, one more good thing about having a forge: it gives me a way of disposing of this wretched pile of small wooden scraps I'm rapidly acquiring. Who needs to buy charcoal when you can make your own?
"Once I have the tools to super-heat steel, the sky is the limit. It will start with a simple annealing job...."
Well, turns out I DO have the tools to super-heat steel. I'm not sure why it makes me giggle to think about the things I can do with a drill press, dremel tool, a piece of copper pipe, a BBQ grill, a small shop vac, and some duct tape...
For the record, I was the one holding the camera, and my sons were all in bed when this picture was taken. That is the hand of my dear silly wife. I asked her to bring me some long tongs, and she comes back down with a kit of grilling tools (that didn't include a pair of tongs) and a bag of marshmallows. Here I was trying to get some work done, and she's roasting marshmallows at my forge. The INDIGNITY.
Yes, of course I ate one. So what.
It turned out that my little forge did a brilliant job. It did not cost me a nickel; I had everything on hand, including the charcoal. (No Brenda, that's NOT the grill you and Edgar gave me for Christmas last year. The grill you bought me enabled me to "re-purpose" this one, which Joy got me for Christmas a few years back!) With a little learning I was able to heat the piece of my old file to the critical temperature where it loses its magnetic properties and is workable, and it is now sitting in a safe place in the shop cooling down so it will be sufficiently annealed.
Oh yeah, one more good thing about having a forge: it gives me a way of disposing of this wretched pile of small wooden scraps I'm rapidly acquiring. Who needs to buy charcoal when you can make your own?
Friday, August 19
Woodworking... HA!!!
So if I'm supposed to be spending so much of my free time doing woodworking now, WHY AM I SPENDING SO MUCH TIME AND ENERGY ON METAL!?!?!?!?!?
A few weeks ago I bought a bunch of old files via Ebay. This was a lot of very large files of different shapes, and all made from old American steel. As mentioned in my first posting here, one of the things I am absolutely committed to making for myself is custom tools. Why would I do such a thing when I've got so many tools already? BECAUSE I CAN! Why the heck shouldn't I? So I bought these files with the intent of destroying them and morphing them into other devices. Files are made of some of the hardest high-carbon steels known to man. High-carbon steel is necessary for making any type of tool that must keep a very sharp edge. Some people use old files to create swords and knives, though I'm trying like mad to resist that urge...
These files are mostly destined for becoming custom plane irons (that's the proper name for the blade of a woodworking plane). With a little bit of research I found a functional method for "cutting" them into the sizes of material I need. Who ever knew that the only effective cutting tools for this would be a grinding wheel, a sturdy vice, and a large hammer. Done properly, this highly violent (yet extremely gratifying) method actually produces a very clean separation. The problematic part comes afterwards; how on earth do you shape EXTREMELY hard old steel?
The proper way of working with this old steel would be to anneal it by heating it up red hot (to the point it loses its magnetic properties) and then allowing it to slowly cool down in the open air. This would soften the steel substantially and make it far easier to shape. Heating steel to this level requires a forge, however, and I don't happen to own one of those. Yet. Don't think I haven't typed "home made forge" into youtube and gotten several ideas. I am certainly capable of making myself a suitable forge, and I've got plenty of things to burn laying around (like my older brother's old Paula Abdul cassette tapes).
The main issue with building a forge is the whole "slippery slope" concept. Once I have the tools to super-heat steel, the sky is the limit. It will start with a simple annealing job. Then I'll want a bigger hammer to "shape it faster while it is still hot." Then I'll go find myself an old piece of a railroad track to use the hammer on. Next thing you know I'll be knee deep into the first ever Moeglingator 3000 (the kids are watching Wubbzy right now... I couldn't stop myself). I'd never attempt nuclear fission in my garage, I promise (after all, I'm not in Sweden). But what are the chances I'll continue to be able to resist that urge to make myself something very, very shiny, sharp, and highly dangerous? I don't really have any designs like that running around in my head... really... seriously... there's not a single one... promise... "Trust me, Mom, I know what I'm doing..."
I'd better get back to working with some wood...
A few weeks ago I bought a bunch of old files via Ebay. This was a lot of very large files of different shapes, and all made from old American steel. As mentioned in my first posting here, one of the things I am absolutely committed to making for myself is custom tools. Why would I do such a thing when I've got so many tools already? BECAUSE I CAN! Why the heck shouldn't I? So I bought these files with the intent of destroying them and morphing them into other devices. Files are made of some of the hardest high-carbon steels known to man. High-carbon steel is necessary for making any type of tool that must keep a very sharp edge. Some people use old files to create swords and knives, though I'm trying like mad to resist that urge...
These files are mostly destined for becoming custom plane irons (that's the proper name for the blade of a woodworking plane). With a little bit of research I found a functional method for "cutting" them into the sizes of material I need. Who ever knew that the only effective cutting tools for this would be a grinding wheel, a sturdy vice, and a large hammer. Done properly, this highly violent (yet extremely gratifying) method actually produces a very clean separation. The problematic part comes afterwards; how on earth do you shape EXTREMELY hard old steel?
The proper way of working with this old steel would be to anneal it by heating it up red hot (to the point it loses its magnetic properties) and then allowing it to slowly cool down in the open air. This would soften the steel substantially and make it far easier to shape. Heating steel to this level requires a forge, however, and I don't happen to own one of those. Yet. Don't think I haven't typed "home made forge" into youtube and gotten several ideas. I am certainly capable of making myself a suitable forge, and I've got plenty of things to burn laying around (like my older brother's old Paula Abdul cassette tapes).
The main issue with building a forge is the whole "slippery slope" concept. Once I have the tools to super-heat steel, the sky is the limit. It will start with a simple annealing job. Then I'll want a bigger hammer to "shape it faster while it is still hot." Then I'll go find myself an old piece of a railroad track to use the hammer on. Next thing you know I'll be knee deep into the first ever Moeglingator 3000 (the kids are watching Wubbzy right now... I couldn't stop myself). I'd never attempt nuclear fission in my garage, I promise (after all, I'm not in Sweden). But what are the chances I'll continue to be able to resist that urge to make myself something very, very shiny, sharp, and highly dangerous? I don't really have any designs like that running around in my head... really... seriously... there's not a single one... promise... "Trust me, Mom, I know what I'm doing..."
I'd better get back to working with some wood...
Monday, August 8
The Gift of Light
Over the past few weeks I've struggled through working in a room lit by a single light bulb mounted in the ceiling. This solitary light source is directly behind my back when I stand in front of my bench, therefore casting my massive shadow directly over anything I am working on. This is counter-productive.
Last week I was discussing the current status of my work with my father at the clock shop. I mentioned this extreme lack of light, and he said he thought he had a large florescent light fixture hanging around that he would not be using. Saturday afternoon I dropped by his house with my family while we were running errands, and he gave me the old light fixture and two new bulbs for it. After an $8 run to the hardware store and a little time spent on the step ladder, my humble workshop now has a terrific amount of light. Best of all, my work is no longer encumbered by the dark cast of my own shadow.
For those of you who have read up to this point and thought, "his dad gave him a light fixture. cool. <YAWN>..." you miss the larger picture. While thinking about how grateful I was for this new light, many thoughts rushed through my mind. I realized just how great a gift this simple act of charity from my father was to me, and how it represented so much more than what my eyes would see. Here in this story I have told above there lies MUCH symbolism.
Over the years I have been moving along in life, guided largely by the the light of others pushing me along. While this light has been sufficient to keep me moving in a forward direction, I have been greatly encumbered by my own shadow countless times. It now has occurred to me that over the past 13 years since I came back home to Columbia, my father has CONSTANTLY given me the light I have needed to see through the darkness and confusion that I constantly place before myself.
I think of every single good decision I have made over that time period, and I am reminded of a discussion I had with my father. Getting back on my own feet after coming home, rediscovering the importance of religion, getting engaged and married, going to college, starting a family, going BACK to college, pushing the clock shop forward. His wisdom and knowledge, and his willingness to give them to me, have been there through it all.
But it goes well beyond that time also. How do I know how to use the very tools I own? Because I have been there with him while he was using his tools for as far back as my memory allows me to recall. Why do I think I can do the things I set out to do? Because of the things that I have seen him do.
I sit here wanting to type more, but I just can't write enough words to express my gratitude for my father's Gift of Light. His gift educates me, empowers me, and encourages me. I am very excited and humbled to use his light to continue on my path of Enduring Creation.
Last week I was discussing the current status of my work with my father at the clock shop. I mentioned this extreme lack of light, and he said he thought he had a large florescent light fixture hanging around that he would not be using. Saturday afternoon I dropped by his house with my family while we were running errands, and he gave me the old light fixture and two new bulbs for it. After an $8 run to the hardware store and a little time spent on the step ladder, my humble workshop now has a terrific amount of light. Best of all, my work is no longer encumbered by the dark cast of my own shadow.
For those of you who have read up to this point and thought, "his dad gave him a light fixture. cool. <YAWN>..." you miss the larger picture. While thinking about how grateful I was for this new light, many thoughts rushed through my mind. I realized just how great a gift this simple act of charity from my father was to me, and how it represented so much more than what my eyes would see. Here in this story I have told above there lies MUCH symbolism.
Over the years I have been moving along in life, guided largely by the the light of others pushing me along. While this light has been sufficient to keep me moving in a forward direction, I have been greatly encumbered by my own shadow countless times. It now has occurred to me that over the past 13 years since I came back home to Columbia, my father has CONSTANTLY given me the light I have needed to see through the darkness and confusion that I constantly place before myself.
I think of every single good decision I have made over that time period, and I am reminded of a discussion I had with my father. Getting back on my own feet after coming home, rediscovering the importance of religion, getting engaged and married, going to college, starting a family, going BACK to college, pushing the clock shop forward. His wisdom and knowledge, and his willingness to give them to me, have been there through it all.
But it goes well beyond that time also. How do I know how to use the very tools I own? Because I have been there with him while he was using his tools for as far back as my memory allows me to recall. Why do I think I can do the things I set out to do? Because of the things that I have seen him do.
I sit here wanting to type more, but I just can't write enough words to express my gratitude for my father's Gift of Light. His gift educates me, empowers me, and encourages me. I am very excited and humbled to use his light to continue on my path of Enduring Creation.
Monday, August 1
Project #1: The Clockmaster's Dream
A: You have a new favorite video game to play with, that actually does something productive.
While I am absolutely committed to NEVER building the same thing twice, my intent is to design project platforms that I can use as master concepts for building products with similar design foundations over time. I'm calling this platform the "Clockmaster's Dream" series, mostly because the clocks I build with it will be VERY easy clock cases for a clockmaker to work with when it comes time to maintain and repair their movements.
Being a Sketch Up Artist has its advantages. I sat down yesterday afternoon for about an hour and toyed around with some concepts for this design platform. Building my designs in Sketch Up allows me to brainstorm construction ideas and manipulate the model in a 3D environment so I can get a good idea of what will and won't work before I ever cut into a piece of wood. It also allows me to print off design plans with dimensions. Extra time spent in Sketch Up saves a LOT of time in the shop, not to mention helping to eliminate wasted wood. Here's a very rough sketch of the preliminary design concept for this project.
Many things about this design will change before I power up my saw for the first cut, but I wanted to give you an idea of what Sketch Up can do, and how I'll be spending most of my time at the computer these days...
Sunday, July 10
In the Beginning...
...there was a 34 year old man who realized he had a stupid amount of money tied up in tools he didn't use. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned...
Hi, my name is Brian, and I am guilty of neglecting my tools, and, worse yet, neglecting my talents. This is indeed a grievous sin to humanity, and the purpose of this blog is to show the world my penance as I learn (or re-learn) how to use the God-given talents I have to create wonderful things and make this world a better place.
My intent here is to give a frequent and entertaining commentary on my adventures for those who care to keep tabs on me. Life and technology permitting, you will see my ideas grow from random thoughts to tangible items of quality and value. What will I make? Who knows. Probably some clocks. Maybe some instruments. Maybe some jewelry. Maybe some archery equipment. DEFINITELY some tools.
Currently, I am putting the finishing touches on organizing my shop (aka our 1-car garage). Don't get excited about seeing pictures of this. I have absolutely chosen function and frugality over form in creating my work space. Things are coming together, though. I know where I'm going to put most things, and that's the hardest part for me. If my ideas pan out, the things I create will more than make up for the lack of decor in my humble little shop.
As I close this inaugural post, I feel the need to issue fair warning to the brave souls who cast their eyes upon my musings. This space will contain my unabridged thoughts and words. While nothing will be typed here that would merit worse than a G rating in a movie, I will NOT be parsing my words. If, in the mental wanderings I am subjected to as I create things, I venture into the land of politics, morality, religion, economics, or other topics that are prone to setting off heated debates and I choose to share these thoughts with you, so be it. Learn the fine art of being able to agree to disagree, and we'll have a wonderful time here.
As with everything that comes from this silly head, the title of this blog was not chosen lightly. This will be about the things I create, but it will also be about the things I learn as I venture deeper into the divine process that is creation.
Hi, my name is Brian, and I am guilty of neglecting my tools, and, worse yet, neglecting my talents. This is indeed a grievous sin to humanity, and the purpose of this blog is to show the world my penance as I learn (or re-learn) how to use the God-given talents I have to create wonderful things and make this world a better place.
My intent here is to give a frequent and entertaining commentary on my adventures for those who care to keep tabs on me. Life and technology permitting, you will see my ideas grow from random thoughts to tangible items of quality and value. What will I make? Who knows. Probably some clocks. Maybe some instruments. Maybe some jewelry. Maybe some archery equipment. DEFINITELY some tools.
Currently, I am putting the finishing touches on organizing my shop (aka our 1-car garage). Don't get excited about seeing pictures of this. I have absolutely chosen function and frugality over form in creating my work space. Things are coming together, though. I know where I'm going to put most things, and that's the hardest part for me. If my ideas pan out, the things I create will more than make up for the lack of decor in my humble little shop.
As I close this inaugural post, I feel the need to issue fair warning to the brave souls who cast their eyes upon my musings. This space will contain my unabridged thoughts and words. While nothing will be typed here that would merit worse than a G rating in a movie, I will NOT be parsing my words. If, in the mental wanderings I am subjected to as I create things, I venture into the land of politics, morality, religion, economics, or other topics that are prone to setting off heated debates and I choose to share these thoughts with you, so be it. Learn the fine art of being able to agree to disagree, and we'll have a wonderful time here.
As with everything that comes from this silly head, the title of this blog was not chosen lightly. This will be about the things I create, but it will also be about the things I learn as I venture deeper into the divine process that is creation.
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