Transferring the joints from the vertical members of the mirror frames to the horizontal with a drafting pencil. Cuts are then made with table and bandsaws.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Transferring the cut lines from tails to pins is just a matter of drawing a thin line around the perimeter. This simple step requires focus: any imperfection here will be glaringly obvious when the piece comes together.
While leaving the glued and clamped cherry boards to dry over night, I've begun laying out my cut lines for the half-blind dovetails of the sliding box.
Day one of a new project! I'm calling this thing a mirror box. This is the rendition drawn to scale with each element assigned a letter. The drawing shows both front and side views. I'm building four of them at once which may take a bit of time. Let's see how long...
The tools are new, but the craft hasn't changed much in the last few centuries. Most days start with a hike straight out my door and into the mountains with my dog, Chica leading the way. The rest of the day is spent in the shop, hopefully crafting things of lasting beauty.
The modes vary: Loose and unhindered by practicalities in the design phase. The puzzle master/engineer while laying out the joinery. Carefully picking wood for stability and character. The drudgery of grunt mill work. Methodically laying out precise cut lines. Patiently creating the puzzle pieces. The satisfaction of seeing a piece first take form during dry assembly. Loosening up again to introduce curves and give the piece a human touch. The monotony of sanding. The sometimes terrifying race against rapidly (and irreversibly) drying adhesives. The appreciation of color and form as penetrating oils first bring the grain back to vibrant life. An ambivalent farewell as it leaves the shop for good.
...Or sometimes I'm just cursing at a piece of machinery that refuses to cooperate.