Wednesday, October 11, 2017

plane scat


We have a little group that meets in my workshop once a week, and that group is part of a bigger group on Facebook, most of whom just want to see some real time work happening in pictures, and other posts about instrument making and tool use. (on Facebook; Metung Violin Maker's Workshop)
At the moment we have half a dozen tenor ukuleles being made. The uke has a lot in common with an acoustic guitar, without the acreage, and the option of fewer decorative details. But it is also a fantastic vehicle for learning some advanced tool skills including measuring, planing, carving, bending and tuning. At the end you have a very approachable, portable and social instrument.

This process is reason enough in and of itself, in answer to the question 'Why build a use when you can buy one for twenty bucks?'


PLANE SCAT.
Why would you bother?
Let's put aside the obvious answers about sound quality and craftsmanship for the moment and look at these two pictures. The first is of Susan's pile of shavings and the second is of Daniels. They (like everyone in the group) both achieved several things today, but the 'plane scat' pictured here tells a really wonderful story if you know how to look at it.

Susan is planing slightly curly, hard and rather unforgiving blackwood and has used a plane which she was advised to use as if she was slicing tomatoes, rather than chopping them. So in practise, the plane is angled obliquely to the cut- or explained another way, the blade goes forward while the plane is angled at about 45 degrees to the side, and the ribbons produced are like DNA spirals. The grain is approached at an angle and the blade bites gradually.

She nailed it, and did so in quick time. Approaching wood with a cutting tool will be done differently for every piece, depending on grain, hardness, surface flaws and the size of the plane relative to the area that needs flattening.


Daniel's wood was a completely different proposition and he was able to flatten a great area and depth very quickly, confidently and energetically, taking thicker, front-on swathes from the softer, straighter-grained timber. His ribbons are like scrolls more than spirals.

The point is that to learn this kind of sensitivity to tools and materials is simply exquisite in my humble opinion; whatever the object is at the end, the interaction with these things is at the very heart of the connection between our eyes, ears, minds and hands- not to mention the connection to beautiful materials.

All of this could be done by machine, but none of these experiences can be replicated on a machine.















Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Plane Truth: More tool heaven

For the last month or so, once a week, my little workshop has been humming with energy as a small group begins to learn some of the skills of instrument making, by beginning with a tenor ukulele.

It is such a joy to stand in the room and see five vises holding selected pieces of timber, and particularly to hear multiple bench and block planes cutting ribbons -and giving that sweet pleasure that not so many folk are privy to anymore. I had forgotten what a pleasure a busy studio could be.

Now if there is interest, I will blog some of their progress here, but the reason I mention the group is that the presence of a workshop full of enthusiasts has caused me to me weaken (at a local Sunday market at a second hand tool stall) and buy another bench plane, with the excuse that all my stuff is getting used simultaneously...so I need more stuff. Last week I had three block planes, and  #3, # 4, and # 5 all in constant service.  At that stage my # 6 was waiting for a refit and # 7 was needing a sharpen. (They all seem to have favourites, but they are flexible enough to try whatever is offered for a specific task.)

So I bought a (barely) used Australian made Stanley #4 Bailey plane at the market. I thought maybe that the process of making it workable might be of interest to a reader who is reluctant, so far, to tune an old plane...



First, I should say that the Bailey type of plane is not a great type of tool, meaning it is not an exceptional piece of equipment. However, I like the honest, working  nature of them, the humble commercial product that seeks to do a simple job economically and well, especially since they are so easy to transform into really beautiful things to use- without the bells and whistles and snob value of something like a Norris. Tools needn't be glamorous, just serviceable and stout.

In fact the Bailey designs were drawn to make plane manufacture more economical, not to improve performance. This was in Massachusetts and the designer was Leonard Bailey, who was in a position to use recent improvements in steel production to 'power' his ideas. He sold his patent rights to Stanley Rule and Level in the 1870's, and they were made and marketed in several countries since. I have planes made to this pattern from three countries, and all are trustworthy tools.


When finally I had this one on the bench at home it was pretty obvious to me that this was $25 very well spent. It looked quite sad on the market bench, but I knew I could make it look happy because the important bits were in good order. Above, the varnish on the totes was nearly falling off, with shrinkage striations that made them look tired and dry. They are not unpleasant lines though, so I decided to remove only the loose stuff and let the patina shine through some new varnish.


The adjuster mechanism was brilliant, with very little play in it, so adjustment will be easier than it is on most planes.

The base still carries the scars from planing a painted door or some such odd job, attempted without a sharp blade or any respect at all for the tool. This doesn't worry me because all rescued tools seem to need their bottoms flattened. The blade has never been sharpened since purchase- and this is the story for nearly every old plane I've seen at markets and stalls. They have been bought with the best of intentions, but without the knowledge that sharpening is necessary before use, so they wither on a shelf somewhere until they become part of a down-sizing, or a deceased estate. Of the rare ones that have been 'sharpened' most are horribly rounded and uneven; certain to cause anger and frustration. Do one of these a favour. Rescue it and give it a life. They all deserve it!

There is the customary rust on the exposed part of the blade, but the working end has been kept dry by the rest of the detritus on the shelf upon which it hid. This rust is the sort that comes from workshop dust which absorbs atmospheric moisture, and just sits and brews. It isn't deep and the working end is not pitted on it's back, only chipped on the bevel. Pitting on the back of the iron at the sharp end can be serious because it makes a durable sharp edge impossible without grinding the necessary length off the blade. They are only hardened for part of their length. A microscopically smooth back is the first step to real sharpness, never mind the bevel! (to begin with anyway...)
















The frog is OK, but needs a small adjustment, and that is easy. The blade needs to be supported as low as possible to prevent 'chatter', so the frog should be positioned flush with the slot (presuming the slot is accurately cast). The two holding screws shown need loosening and then the adjusting screw (which is behind the frog inside the area of the blade adjuster) is turned to bring the   frog forward or backward as necessary.
    
                                                


Devilish hard to hold a straight edge to a plane in front of a light source while photographing, at least without a tripod. But this one shows the lack of flatness on the sole or base of the tool. In fact this is the flattest of all the planes I've tuned over the years and that includes dozens of units from England and USA and Australia. This one is Australian, so it was cheaper than  comparable English or American planes (we have a cultural cringe here, always fearing that we aren't good enough) but the flatness of this was brilliant. Most tools I find are high at the ends, where the casting has shrunk less than the rest, under the thickening at the the totes. This one has a high spot near the middle and a slight rise at the ends, but will be easily sorted.

So the restoration began by removing the handles, sanding them by hand (180) to remove loose varnish, and then giving them three coats of varnish. If it had been necessary to remove all the old varnish I may have been tempted to oil them, but these are working handles, not fashion statements, so I chose to allow the totes to hold some of the patina of age. I used a satin varnish rather than gloss.


Removing any rust is best done after a bit of a scrub with fine (000) steel wool to remove loose stuff, but if you are using a 'rust converter' product like I did on this one, it is best to leave some rust on before coating or the conversion won't work. Badly rusted items can also be treated in a bath of vinegar with amazing results. I like the rust converter on the brass parts too, it cleans them nicely and emphasises the colour of the copper within the brass. I leave them un-polished.


Above, a dip in rust converter for the brass bits. Below, irons coated in the same stuff. Eventually the brown bits go grey and change their chemistry.



Above, my Abbot and Ashby finishing attachment for a grinder. The blade is held by a slide on pivot, so the blade can be offered to the belt from side to side without altering the angle. A small container of water and a brush is essential to stop the tip from overheating, turning blue and ruining your day.

Below, after a short grind, the depth of the damage to the blade edge became apparent. The grind will need to take off everything beyond the deepest chip. Note the concave grind shape from the wheel. It allows a secondary bevel to be added to the tip with a honing guide, and this will be a narrow flat band which is easily re-honed without having to take off a lot of material.


Below, the blade is now hollow ground with a fairly consistent burr all along the edge. That burr (serrated rather than smooth partly because of the machining grooves left on the back from the factory) will be removed on the water stones when the back is honed and the front secondary bevel is formed. The secondary bevel is essential for maintaining the edge without needing to grind every time the blade dulls.


Below, the back of the iron after some initial abrasion with a 300 water stone. Wet and dry paper on glass could also be used. Note the grinding lines up and down the blade- this was the machine finish at the factory. It is best to flatten the working part of the blade, abrading the grooves until about 2mm is groove-less at the tip. Don't be tempted to tilt the blade up to get there sooner, as that will have other consequences, including making it harder to hone the angle you want predictably. After the 300 stone I went up through finer stones to about 4000, and that gives a mirror shine to the surface. I finish the back to the same number grit as I do for the secondary bevel on the front.

Sharpening in general probably needs a separate post, although there are some annotated pics about honing on the Metung Violin Maker's Workshop Facebook page.


Above and below, I discovered some time ago, that the platen on my linisher/sander was actually remarkably flat, and I have been able to use it on plane soles with as much success as I used to have on glass with W&D, but of course much faster. The pic above shows the surface nearly done except for that little area under the rear tote. That would be good enough for most jobs because of the flatness extending to the edge of the rear back, or the surface could be worked for longer to get it just right.

The first ribbon cut with the assembled plane is probably the only good ribbon it has ever cut, and will be the first of many.


Friday, September 15, 2017

The orphan's Tale- a book review





The Orphan's TaleThe Orphan's Tale by Pam Jenoff

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This was a good story, sometimes as dark and disturbing as life under the influence of the Third Reich would have been and it was enriched by the convergence of several personal recoveries from hurt and tragedy.

We read the book alternating two first person voices and this device was the cause of some frustration for me. I found the dialogue a bit clunky, mixed as it was with personal thoughts and feelings and I fear that there was insufficient contrast between the two voices to allow me to identify with each narrator as we changed chapters.

For me the strongest prose and the most convincing revelation of character was in the epilogue. In this a single voice ties the whole story together from the recollection of a much older person. This final chapter helped overcome some of my negative feelings.


View all my reviews


The blurb on Goodreads:

A powerful novel of friendship set in a traveling circus during World War II, The Orphan's Tale introduces two extraordinary women and their harrowing stories of sacrifice and survival.


Sixteen-year-old Noa has been cast out in disgrace after becoming pregnant by a Nazi soldier and being forced to give up her baby. She lives above a small rail station, which she cleans in order to earn her keep. When Noa discovers a boxcar containing dozens of Jewish infants bound for a concentration camp, she is reminded of the child that was taken from her. And in a moment that will change the course of her life, she snatches one of the babies and flees into the snowy night.

Noa finds refuge with a German circus, but she must learn the flying trapeze act so she can blend in undetected, spurning the resentment of the lead aerialist, Astrid. At first rivals, Noa and Astrid soon forge a powerful bond. But as the facade that protects them proves increasingly tenuous, Noa and Astrid must decide whether their friendship is enough to save one another - or if the secrets that burn between them will destroy everything.

Monday, September 4, 2017

The Wonder: a book review

The WonderThe Wonder by Emma Donoghue
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This book has a slow fuse and the plot sizzles very quietly and seems muffled through the early parts of the book. There is a point though, where everything changes and things suddenly seem to have many possible paths on the way to some sort of resolution. The slow fuse works well as an important device in the narrative, if you stick with the author.

I found the story socially interesting and in the end very satisfying, although Irish people may find themselves bristling under their collars from time to time-either in denial or embarrassment. The story represents very much a superior British kind of attitude, quite typical of the time, but challenging nonetheless. I can't help wondering how the story would feel if an Irish nurse faced a similar situation at a similar time in the back streets of inner London, but that would deny us the necessary remoteness of the influence of Florence Nightingale, and the particularly Roman Catholic excesses of the time which do make for a robust plot. Either way, it doesn't matter in judging a good read, and this is one.


View all my reviews


The intro blurb on Goodreads says:

In the latest masterpiece by Emma Donoghue, bestselling author of Room, an English nurse brought to a small Irish village to observe what appears to be a miracle-a girl said to have survived without food for months-soon finds herself fighting to save the child's life.

Tourists flock to the cabin of eleven-year-old Anna O'Donnell, who believes herself to be living off manna from heaven, and a journalist is sent to cover the sensation. Lib Wright, a veteran of Florence Nightingale's Crimean campaign, is hired to keep watch over the girl.

Written with all the propulsive tension that made Room a huge bestseller, THE WONDER works beautifully on many levels--a tale of two strangers who transform each other's lives, a powerful psychological thriller, and a story of love pitted against evil.

Saturday, September 2, 2017

in praise of drawing while thinking and learning


These sketches weren't drawn for anyone else, they were a personal 'external hard drive'  bound in a cardboard cover- the black book that pre-dates the black box. They were a part of my own visual journey to learn some new skills. They are rough and quick, but in giving emphasis to them with wobbly drawn frames and accented edges they became memories in themselves and the process of doing this reinforced little discoveries and helped me figure out priorities.



My visual diary or journal from learning to make instruments is pretty similar to the books I kept through art school and beyond. I think one of the reasons they became important to me was that learning something new or making a difficult thing really excited me, so the doing could be re-lived in the drawing, and this had the advantage of reinforcing creative experiences and helping me remember stuff- giving me reminders to come back to. Of course sometimes the drawings happen before the doing, and this enables visual testing of several solutions to little problems before taking up the tools. 'Several solutions' implies lateral thinking and that is a wonderful problem solving skill to adopt. There is always  a multitude of ways to do anything and the art is in finding the most elegant and the most fit for purpose.

Ideas in the head get out more easily if they can be tested through drawing. Making bad drawings is cheaper than making bad objects and failure at some level is what creation is all about. Over and over, we can always do better by simply doing more -thoughtfully.


This sort of drawing is not about pretty pictures, it is visual communication of a more technical and maybe personal kind. I'm so grateful for the training I had all those years ago in life drawing and technical drawing- the opportunity to spend repeated sessions over four years just connecting my mind with my hands through exploratory lines. These things became a habit and a joy.


I suppose something similar happens now to the penless generations with CAD and all the Apps, but I'm suspicious that something very direct between hand and eye will be lost if hands can no longer draw communicative or exploratory lines (or even ordinary ones) that make some sort of sense. But I guess that only applies to the small group of people who make things...








Saturday, August 26, 2017

at last, a story of inclusion



Image may contain: 6 people, people smiling, people standing
The following is a post from 'Humans in Geelong" concerning a project to build St Ayles  Skiffs, but the build of these two boats is by some Syriac people from Iraq who find themselves here in search of peace and safety. It may only be two boats and a smallish group, but this is a monumental piece of community building through education and creative effort. Stories of inclusion and empathy and shared skills are so rare but never more important than now with so many voices in the West actively trying to instil irrational fear in our populations, trying to build intolerance and prejudice from insecurity. 

A light emanates from the workshop in Deakin University Waterfront Campus. The sun is setting and most people are dispersing to the car parks at the end of a long day of lectures and studying. After a while, only a dozen people remain, working away on a project that intends to span years. The dream: a Pako Festa on water, with a dozen hand-built wooden boats bringing together a multicultural community for exercise, festivities and fun on the city waterfront. 
For many of these builders, however, they have never seen a boat before. The Syriacpeople of Iraqi who are working on the boat alongside Geelong Iranian Society - G.I.Shave escaped devastating conditions under ISIS and travelled to Australia seeking refuge from their war-torn country. 
The youngest of these is just 16 years old. For the Iraqi refugees, their ancient hometown of Bakhdida (modern-day Quaragosh) is just south of Mosel. It was occupied by ISIS and reduced to rubble in the ongoing conflict. But, Peter Doyle from the Royal Geelong Yacht Club tells me, the refugees don’t let these tragedies define them: they are focused on and enthusiastic about their future in Australia. He adds that most of their conversations focus on mundane topics such as football, and I notice small buzzing conversations across the workroom in between the buzzing of tools.
The project, launched in May this year, has a goal of building 10-12 boats. Based on Scottish coastal rowing boats of early last century, the St Ayles Skiffs were designed by Australian boat builder Iain Oughtred who now lives in Scotland. Built entirely from Australian timbers, they are delivered as flat packs and assembled with epoxy with not a screw or a nail in sight. What I really enjoyed from learning about this project was the sheer joy, enthusiasm and welcoming environment that I found myself in. It was with great enjoyment that I watched Peter rifle through his photo album of these skifs from all over the world. “Isn’t this one gorgeous!” he tells me, pointing at the photographs of handcrafted wooden skiffs in his folder. 
As for Peter himself, he is retired and is now dedicated to his passion for boats, bringing these boats and their builders down to the Waterfront for the Wooden Boat Festival Geelong in March. In an incredible feat, one of these skiffs was towed across the Nullarbor from Perth to attend last year’s festival. With many smiles and an increased knowledge of boats, I left that evening to allow the group to continue to work with the warm light of the studio emanating through the approaching night and the clangs and whirrs of the tools the only sound that remains.
I returned on a sunny Saturday morning with our photographer Phil Hines in tow and was pleased to observe the workshop in full action. Since my last visit, the very first boat created by the group had been named: Bride of Bakhdida. On the whiteboard in the workshop, the name of the boat is written in the Syriac script. That name will be written in both English and Syriac on the boat upon its completion, signifying the unity between the Geelong and Syriac communities and reflecting Australia’s multicultural nature. Further demonstrating this fusion, on the whiteboard is also a list of boat-related terminology in English, Syriac and Persian (the language of Iran). ‘Hello’ is shlama lekow in Syriac and salam in Persian. 
I spoke with Arash and Shiva about the decision for the Iranian community to collaborate with the Royal Geelong Yacht Club in building these boats but I was swiftly corrected: “It was all Peter’s idea,” Arash insisted. The glowing praise for Peter’s work and commitment to bringing Geelong’s ethnic communities together to build and use these beautiful boats was extraordinary. My final question was what they were the most excited for in the near future for the project. “Seeing the first boat on the water,” Arash replied. “That will make all the difference.”
Written by Stephanie Downing. Photo: Phil Hines Photography


Wednesday, August 23, 2017

A book about Matthew Flinders at sea

The following is the introductory blurb on Goodreads...I haven't reviewed this book yet. I enjoyed it and gave it four stars.


Flinders: The Man who Mapped Australia

 4.09  ·   Rating details ·  87 Ratings  ·  11 Reviews
The exciting story of Matthew Flinders the man who named Australia and the first to chart its coastline.

Matthew Flinders is a towering figure in Australian history; the first to chart our coastline and the leading champion for naming the country Australia. In 1801 he was made commander of the expedition of his life, the first close circumnavigation of Terra Australis.

Famous for his meticulous charts and superb navigational skills, Flinders was a very fine sailor. He battled treacherous conditions in a boat hardly seaworthy, faced the loss of a number of his crewmen and, following a shipwreck on a reef off the Queensland coast, navigated the ship's cutter over 1000 kilometres back to Sydney to get help.

Rob Mundle brings Matthew Flinders fascinating story to life from the heroism and drama of shipwreck, imprisonment and long voyages in appalling conditions, to the heartbreak of being separated from his beloved wife for most of their married life.

This is a gripping adventure biography, in the style of BLIGH: MASTER MARINER.