Walnut School Box

In The Joiner and Cabinet Maker, Thomas works primarily with deal, being a generic term for what was likely a softwood such as pine. While attempting to remain faithful to the projects described in the book, I have scoured the west coast for suitable deal-like woods. I've worked with hemlock, Douglas fir, western red cedar, yellow cedar, Port Orford cedar, spruce, ponderosa pine, and others. Very few of them offer the creamy workability advertised for Eastern white pine, which is not generally available here. I have therefore decided that my "deal" is to use regional hardwoods which balance affordability with workability. Poplar is nice to work with, but not stable over time. Alder and cherry are both excellent. This time, however, I used a plank of walnut milled from a local farmer and woodworker's acreage.

Construction is at this point very straightforward. I don't consult the text at all, I have it fairly well memorized. I still resist temptation to deviate from Thomas's plan much; I still use a birdcage awl to make the hole for the lock (although it is tempting to use a cordless drill). It is also tempting to dovetail the moulding since that is actually easier than accurate miters by hand. I did, however, step away from the strap hinges and opted instead to use brass butt hinges. The strap hinges hold some appeal but they are so dark that I thought they would be lost in the dark walnut. I was also tempted to add some lifts on the side but decided to keep it simple. I do like how this one turned out. I hope the recipient enjoys it.

Reader Submission - James Oliver of BC

This winter I had a great time at the Lie-Nielsen Hand Tool Event  in Victoria, BC. I met loads of interesting folks, and one talented woodworker in particular stood out from the crowd: James Oliver.

This is the guy who modestly claimed to be a beginner with hand tools, but casually put together a dovetailed box while "testing" the saws and chisels. He also brought along some panels of his carvings, which were wonderful. 

He just sent me photos of his tool chest:

"Western maple carcass, cherry and hickory tills, the top edges of the runners are ipe. Bottom is t&g pine"

Nice work, James!

Installing Hinges By Hand

In The Joiner and Cabinet Maker, Thomas uses strap hinges on his school box. I've done a number of them, and do enjoy the process of installing them. However, I also like the more precise fit and clean look of slightly more modern butt hinges, and especially like those from Horton Brass. So for the current School Box project, that is what I am using.

Installation of this type of hinge is covered pretty thoroughly in The Anarchist's Tool Chest, but for those who don't have that book or otherwise just want to see it in "real life", I took a few photos today. Sadly, some of the important steps did not photograph well, but I will try to explain.

Step one, as always, is layout. In this case, I found the centerpoint on the back of the box, and divided that in half. Each of these "quarter" marks will be the center of each of the two hinges. There are other formulas for placement, but this works well-enough and looks pretty good.

Once that mark is placed on the box, the lid is set exactly where it shall finally live. A hinge is roughly centered on the mark, and a careful strike with the marking knife is made on the outside edge of the hinge, knicking both the box and the lid at the same time. This is a registration mark of sorts, but also a physical detent to aid in the rest of the layout. While carefully holding the lid in place (think dovetail marking), this knick is repeated for the other hinge. 

These are the photos that did not turn out. Maybe I will have to add a tripod and actual camera (can't find the tripod mount on my ipad) to my tool kit soon.

Once the registration nicks are in place, the lid is set aside, and a marking knife is set into the nick on the box body. The first hinge is put into place right next to the knife. This is where the physical detent a marking knife creates is revealed to be much more useful than, say, a pencil line. You really can't miss when you can drop your knife right into the line and press the hinge up against it. Try that with a pencil line.

The hinge is then simply traced. As usual, several light passes are made. It is especially important to be careful on the long side, as that is where the knife will try to follow the grain rather than the edge of the hinge. Slow, careful passes with slight increase in pressure each time is the method that seems to work best. It should be pointed out here that you want to work with the exact hinge which will be installed. These Horton hinges are so well-made as to be interchangeable, but that is a bad thing to rely upon and a bad habit. So work with one hinge at a time, and install it exactly where it was marked. Leave the other one wrapped up or in another room to avoid confusion. Mark them with tape if you have to.

In theory, you'll end up with a perfect outline of the hinge. Next, the depth needs to be marked on the back of the box. Since it would be awkward to hold the very thin hinge flush with the top of the box and trace, we shift tactics here and use a marking gauge.

The marking gauge is set to the exact depth of one leaf of the hinge. The gauge is then used to mark the bottom of the mortise on the back of the box.

A complete outline of the mortise will be the result. You'll see that I don't worry about overcutting a little bit. This is traditional, and functional. The gauge is physically creating the outline of the mortise. If you stop shy of the intersecting line, that corner will not be cut and will be prone to tearing out when you do get to it. If you overcut, the corner is already defined using your crisp layout tools, and your job is just to remove the stuff inside that area. If the extra layout lines bother you, just plane them off later (same with baselines on dovetail joints).

This is where many people would be tempted to get out their router. This is such a small mortise, though, that it took less than five minutes for me to complete it, even with taking a couple photos. It is also quiet, meditative work and every chance to improve chisel technique should be relished. Start by deepening the layout lines with a chisel and use extreme caution on the long face as it is very easy to split that off. I know from experience. The cross-grain chops can be a little more cavalier but at this point in the project, it is always best to slow down, or even walk away if it does not feel like the right day to be in this mindstate.

You can see that the cross-grain edges are chopped a little deeper than the long edge. I go very gingerly on that edge, as mentioned above. Once you are under the surface a little bit, you'll have a physical stop and as long as you go gently, it is pretty easy.

The exact method of waste removal here is then up to a variety of methods with your tool set, skill set, and material all offering input and constraints. You'll generally want to go with the grain to get the smoothest finish, but of course you have to go against it for at least a small part of it in order to get right into the uphill side of the mortise. On a larger piece, a router plane would be appealing to use for finishing, but in this case there is so little registration room left that I did not bother. That tiny one Veritas has would be fun in times like this, but I will have to wait until I win one in a contest or something. I used just a chisel here.

You'll also see that I bevelled the outside face just about down to the layout line. This gives a good visual indicator of getting close, without having to stop and peer down at the line itself very often. The different sheen of the angled wood gives a very nice orientation cue when viewed from above. One could stripe this facet with a China marker or similar for even more feedback, and know that material still needed to be removed until the striped disappear.

Here you can see the layout line is still visible, meaning a final paring is still needed. This is a good time to stop and test-fit the hinge. Then it is a matter of possibly paring down right to the line. If layout was off, the mortise can be carefully widened, but take care to only widen inward, or away from the tick line. You will never remember which way you did it when you get to the lid's mortise otherwise. Again, I know from experience.

An excellent fit. In this case, I pared to the layout line right across the grain. This is simple to do, if you go gently and do not shove the chisel right through the very thin remaining back wall of the mortise. However, slicing across the grain leaves a slightly rough (rather than glassy) finish. Since only another woodworker should ever see what is underneath the hinge during a repair, glass-smooth is not important here; just flatness. So if this were a mortise which would be visible at times, I would have probably pared along the grain with the bevel down, a lot of sweating and cursing, and abdominal clenching.

I've been pretty sick the past few days and after this hinge went so quickly and smoothly, I wanted to quit while I was ahead... so I did. The other hinge, and then the mortises on the lid are the same process. Everything unfolds from that first tickmark... "Cut to the line, you'll be fine".

I use a punch of appropriate diameter to mark the center of the screw holes, then a gimlet to create a pilot hole. I have learned from experience to then install the hinge using steel screws, which are then removed and replaced with brass screws once everything is perfect. Brass screws are too precious to ruin with the required torque for the initial installation. Again, experience. Heed my warning, or get your own.

Uncle Bob's Box

As a kid, we always had this little cabinet in my house. It was built by my great uncle, who more or less introduced me to woodworking. The box is full of memories as it travelled to several homes, and then finally was given to me by my mother last year.

I decided to reverse engineer it, and in the process learned a fair bit about how Uncle Bob built it. The one thing I had trouble with was finding appropriately small hinges. I also opted for brass knobs rather than the "shaker" wood knobs he chose.

Always a bit of a prankster, he dated the box (which I believe was in fact built in 1952).

Here's my version, done in cherry. I plucked all dimensions using dividers or the piece itself as a story stick. I consciously avoided most of the improvements which came to my mind. I used copper nails (something I have become fond of in this maritime town). The drawer is rabbeted, but most of the construction is simple butt joints glued and secured with nails. With something this small, it should be plenty strong. The original has in fact taken quite a beating and never suffered.

Only in building it, did I realize that by removing the drawer, there is a bit of a secret compartment underneath. Not sure if that was an intentional element of design, or if it was an aesthetic choice to have the gap under the drawer.

I opted not to put a knob on the top, it looks awkward to me, and the overhang of the top door leaves plenty of purchase for opening. I also did not use a stain, as Bob did. I just used several coats of tung oil. It has already darkened considerably in the sun.

I really enjoy these small scale projects. Other than sourcing or producing very thin stock and miniature hardware, these quick projects are full of the type of gratifying discovery that makes woodworking so great.

I dated mine, as well. My daughter has decided she wants the old one in her room, which I think is appropriate. The replica went to my mother as a gift. Happy Mother's Day, mom!

Walnut... an almost perfect wood

I love how walnut behaves. It has a subtle but rich chantoyance, the figure can be absurdly amazing, and the chocolately color is gorgeous long before any finish is applied. It is tough and durable, holds crisp details very well, and despite that, it is not all that difficult to work. It grows somewhat abundantly in North America, making it one of the best alternatives to imported tropical hardwoods. It is always on my short list of choices for furniture projects.

However, I am slightly bothered by it. Rather, my body is.

I am not allergic to nuts, but I definitely know when I have been working with Walnut. I discovered this in depth while preparing stock for a walnut rocking chair course. A truckload of planks had to be milled into various sized almost-complete components so that the students could focus on details, not stock prep. This involved many days of cutting, planing, routing, and sanding the walnut. I was fine for the first couple days but quickly noticed that my lips and mouth would be tingling afterwards (no, I did not lick any of the sawdust, and yes, I work dust protection). I found this amusing more than anything else.

As wood sensitivity goes, however, these things tend to get worse over time. So it has been with walnut. It seems that each exposure bothers me a little more. Today I merely ran a board through a thickness planer and cut it with handsaws, and I have had the tingle all day. It feels like I am thirsty and need to brush my teeth, but it is unshakable.

I'm not giving up on walnut, I love it too much. I do wear a respirator when machining it, but don't think I can handle that while using handsaws. If it doesn't get much worse, I will just consider it one of the aspects of working with it... I do hope I do not have to drop it from my list, as many have done with yellow cedar, for example.

Another small chest is on it's way...

Apothecary Chest

A while ago I mentioned building an apothecary chest based on a design from a book about their history. I learned a great deal in building it, but was not satisfied with the end result. Part of the carcase shifted during glue-up (It was square, I swear!!!) and so despite tweaking the hinges, planing the bottom, and other emergency fixes, the thing was just frustrating. I shrugged and promised myself to rebuild it someday.

In the meantime, the cabinet just languished. One of the pulls I hastily made for it broke, and I was not motivated to fix it. Well, I have been in the mood to tie up loose ends lately, so I finally adjusted it.

There is nothing I can do about the carcase being misshapen, short of rebuilding it. I did, however, disassemble it and plane it enough so that it opened and closed sweetly. I built a new latch and pulls for the front, and outfitted the shelves with a lip to help secure the contents. I created and installed a little pull for the maple drawer face, and I built a shelf for the whole thing to sit on.

The dark wedge-shaped shadow on the top right shows clearly how out of square it is.

Part of me wanted to treat it like a Japanese ceramic student... to destroy the botched item and move on to the next one. However, I instead mounted it next to my bed to serve as a reminder every day that I need to work at my work. Besides, its still perfectly serviceable.

One of my frivolous pursuits is that of incense and, in particular, tree resins. As these can be pretty pricy, I tend to buy the smallest sample quantities available. I have quite a little pile of myrrhs, copals, frankinsenses, sandalwoods, and other aromatic resins.

Given the spirit of the original chest is to organize tinctures, herbs, and medical paraphernalia, an incense cabinet seemed a fitting purpose.

The inside offers plenty of storage space, and was designed around a module of some glass apothecary jars I purchased. These will serve to hold the various treasures. The narrow slots on the sides of the center section are perfect for the tongs, scoops, and other implements used when melting aromatic saps. My electric incense heater sits comfortably atop the cabinet.

Much nicer than the shoebox I was using before, imperfect as it is.

Soon, back to making new things.

School Chest + Packing Cabinets

A while ago, I made the Joiner and Cabinet Maker Packing Boxes out of poplar, since it was the only thin stock I could find in the area. It turned out to be a good exercise on many levels, but the deepest lesson took a while to reveal itself. I now know how unstable poplar can be. The packing box lids are held down with a beefy batten and clinched nails... they should be quite strong. However, these warped like crazy. I had them nailed shut for a while, so they seemed flat, but as soon as I pulled the nails out, the doors sprung back into a saddle shape. This makes for an unsatisfying box.

However, it does not matter for shop cabinets!  The doors still do not close satisfyingly crisply, but I put some of those hokey cabinet magnets in them, and they work just fine. I realized that while I do enjoy working right out of the tool chest, I do not like working out of tool rolls. That has been remedied, as I now have a place for auger bits, gimlets, and eggbeater drill bits. The other cabinet is awaiting it's purpose, but I am certain it will prove handy.

The bit holder is maybe temporary, I simply drilled holes in a piece of pine. It might be ok. I would maybe like to add a support for the shafts of the bits, or maybe hang them. Dunno yet but I am glad I don't have to dig out the roll and unroll it each time I need one now. I will also note that I do use gimlets pretty frequently, at least the small ones. They are quite handy for pilot holes, and possibly faster than setting up the eggbeater drill. I would use the drill if there were more than a couple holes. I've also been thinking about improving my gimlets by adding some sort of loose sleeve to hold onto, their crude finish is not comfortable.

Here is the pair of "packing cabinets" in their newfound orientation:

And what is that overgrown School Box there, you say? What a great question. That is what I called the Anarchist's School Box  back in October when I started it. It is finally warm enough in the shop again so I have finished it up. Here is a closer look:

This is a bit larger than the J&CM School Box, and so I felt it needed lifts. After quickly flirting with some wooden versions, I felt that more elegant brass fit the bill a bit better.

This box is for a fountain pen collector, and so it has 3 tills for the pens, which reveal room below for ink, notebooks, and other supplies.

The top till has pen holders made of walnut. I simply bored 6 holes into a small scrap, which I then resawed to make it thinner, and then ripped those in half. The other tills are empty for the user to outfit as he wishes.

The body is made of cherry, while the tills have cherry fronts and backs with pine sides. The box bottom is cedar. I am pleased with how it turned out, and now want a miniature toolchest of my own! Instead of Anarchist's School Box, I think it might be more appropriate to call this a School Chest. I hope it is enjoyed, as I certainly enjoyed building it.