Popular Woodworking 2005-12 № 152, страница 35

performing similar work today, and with the aid of "money is no object" machines, spend months on similar pieces.

And just to put this into perspective: Some of these men were in poor health. In some cases, sewage ran through the center of their narrow streets. They worked in dim, cramped conditions. The average urban craftsman, the same individual who turned out the finest pieces, probably worked in what we would call his living room. This room would house his many children, possibly an elderly relative, and the hearth where his spouse prepared his meals. Additionally, American tradesmen conducted their business transactions by trading merchandise. Cash was reserved for overseas trade. So the craftsman's shop may have also stored barrels of soap, fabrics and other bulk goods taken as payment.

The entirety of such a space could be as small as a modern one-car garage (so stop bellyaching about your shop!). By modern standards, we could only categorize such existence as "third world" conditions.

Despite the differences in our situations, we know that they bought lumber more or less the same way that we do - sawn into boards of roughly the required dimensions. Like many of us home woodworkers, they generally didn't produce items in sufficient quantities to justify specialty jigs or templates, but we don't know

the extent to which templates or jigs were used. (Chairmakers may have been exceptions to this.) Like many of us, they worked in small shops. Like us, they strived for high-quality products and took pride in their work, but the realities of their economy demanded speed and thrift.

From my perspective, I'd say we share more in common with the pre-industrial shops of the late 18 th century than we do with the industrialized furniture factories of the early 20th century. Few of us produce any real quantities of items. Machine setups and custom-made jigs are difficult to justify for a single operation. The tools we use, though inargu-ably designed with someone else in mind, probably aren't the whole problem. The way in which we use them similarly reflects the needs of mass production more than custom one-offs. At the very least, I hope we can agree that the methods we use probably don't reflect a universally superior approach to woodworking. There are other ways.

So What are the Arts & Mysteries?

I think it's safe to assume the Arts & Mysteries weren't something like a secret handshake that a dying master revealed to his grandson. Likewise, it's likely they weren't even a set of techniques that could be observed or passed down informally. They certainly are more

How can we do fine work in less-than-ideal conditions or with low-quality tools? These pieces constructed 280 years ago in Philadelphia's early baroque style were probably built before the backsaw was invented. They may not be your style, but they suggest what can be done quickly in modest conditions.

The tools in my shop are representative of early tools not only in their outward appearance, but in their selection as well. All of the tools typical of early shops are present. Additionally, their specific sizes and varieties were chosen to allow them to work together. Mortise chisels match plow irons. Firming gouges match sash planes. The brad awls, gimlets and bits match the nails, screws and the shop's doweling plate. The result is a workshop in which the tools help each other, making projects easier to complete.

than a collection of preferred joints used for specific furniture types. In short, if they were easy to describe, illustrate or demonstrate, they wouldn't be lost today.

My guess is that the Arts & Mysteries are the embodiment of a different approach to solving the everyday problem s woodworkers face. If an apprentice asked how to correct a wayward saw cut, his master would teach him to lay his saw down into the cut, effectively increasing the length of the blade in the kerf. If that same apprentice asked how to straighten a board's edge, his master would offer a long plane. The apprentice may have never realized that the solution to both problems was the same. But in time, he would seek something long to make something straight. By learning his master's technique, the apprentice would eventually mimic his master's approach as well. For the apprentice, the Arts & Mysteries of his master's trade were never discussed or defined, but constantly reinforced. As more operations were performed on machinery, young woodworkers saw fewer examples of the "old ways" in their work.

popularwoodworking.com 33