Mondaugen's Chicago

Then and Now -- or, Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Doormaking but Were Too Busy to Ask

You see, I’ve written a new book about making doors, available here, and, of course, that process got me thinking.

On the shelf in my shop have a copy of Henley’s Twentieth Century Book of Recipes, Formulas and Processes: Containing Nearly Ten Thousand Selected Scientific, Chemical, Technical and Household Recipes, Formulas and Processes for Use in the Laboratory, the Office, the Workshop and in the Home, published in New York in 1907.

Intended for the general public, Henley’s tells you how to make everything from your own acid-proof wood finishes to food preservatives, foot powders, even zinc contact silver plating. But in close to eight hundred densely-packed pages, there is not a single image or illustration, and there are few how-to instructions. To make the acid-proof wood finish, for example, the book simply tells you to boil copper sulfate and potassium chlorate salts until dissolved.

To many modern Americans, the directions in this book are dangerously incomplete, perhaps criminally. Will boiling these crystals give off noxious fumes? Do you add water? How much? Can they be boiled safely in a steel or aluminum pot? Where can you even buy these crystals? Henley’s is mute. While I’m sure that some readers in 1907 did not know the answers to all these questions, many more did. Henley’s was a popular book and went on to revised editions.

In 2016, we no longer have the same foundation of practical knowledge or hand skills (or understanding of risk) that our ancestors did. The efficiencies of mass manufacturing have allowed each of us to focus on specialized professions— many of us simply don’t need to build or repair our own houses or furniture anymore; there’s someone else or some company who specializes in that and we make enough money to pay them to do it. And yet many of us lament this loss, nostalgic for earlier generations of DIY enthusiasts, amazed by their ability to do so much on their own, and forgetting that they did not have the internet, heated toilet seats or inexpensive Asian manufacturing integrated with global markets and high volume low-cost shipping capacities. With these things, we are far more productive, far less burdened by the work necessary to simply survive, and have far greater freedom to pursue other opportunities. We are now far less independent and far more interdependent. We are not worse—we are just different.

Well, most of us. Some of us still make our own things. I make my own doors. Now, don’t get me wrong -- I don't believe we should all make our own doors. We should make them if we want to and for the right reasons. I have made my own front door, bedroom doors and bathroom doors. And I make them for customers too. I’m not so much a Luddite as have a different economy of value. I don’t really know what motivated people to buy Henley’s and make things from it. But I made those doors because it was satisfying work to integrate something of beauty and usefulness into my life, and for others.

Why would you make your own door (or anything else?) You can’t save any money: a manufactured, pre-hung hollow-core at Lowe’s costs about $67, while the raw materials to build a similar door would cost about $300. You can’t advance your career in selling widgets: doormaking is not much of a resume builder. And you can’t make influential friends: try introducing yourself as being "way into doors" "You mean The Doors?" "No, just doors." You will, however, create beautiful, unique and useful objects -- thereby acquiring the traditional skills of craftsmanship that have shaped our humanity: a main advantage, and consequence, of the opposable thumb.

If we share anything with our handier ancestors from 1907, it’s the need for understanding and mastery of our daily environment, or at least a part of it, and shaping it to our liking. We may live in a world where merely opening the back of a phone voids the warranty, but we still can find deep satisfactions in creating and thereby understanding some of the things we use.

So this is indeed why I’ve written a book on making doors. Published by the Linden Press, it is available now on Amazon now for preorder (to be delivered in the early months of 2017). It’s for every skill level. Maybe you'll read it. Maybe you'll make a door from it.

Right Now

Right now, I am in a very small hotel room in Tokyo with a mosquito. Now and again, I hear it, or see it. I leap to my feet and chase it, slapping at it with inept aim, knocking over the lamp once and stubbing my toe on the bed twice. But is it still among the living, plotting mindlessly to siphon off a tiny amount of blood and leave an annoying itch. The little fucker.

The fear of a mosquito bite is not commensurate to periodic dancing around a hotel room. But the need for focus while I write is. The whine of a mozzie is utterly distracting, worse than heavy construction and near to a baby’s wail. And without focus, I cannot write. And without writing, well, I cease to exist—to you at least. So it is important that I – oh wait.

Nope, didn’t get him this time either, but the mirror is now askew and I’m not sure how to make it right without breaking the little attachments to the wall.

Ha! Got him. I mean her. Odd little fact, that: only female mosquitoes bite. They need the blood for their eggs. Male mozzies don’t bite. I do not know what they eat. Decided to dawdle by the base of the lamp and after fifteen or so whacks with my hand, which is now red and sore, I squished her.

Finally, I can get on with my blog.

This one is like scratching at the base of a gargantuan sand dune with the intention of ordering the grains into meaningful patterns. You see, I’ve never been to Japan before, have just completed 9 days her visiting museums, temples restaurants and ryokans, and am so full of renewed life that the translation of it would fill endless volumes. But as you’re nearly bored to tears already, I’ll get on with the pictures.

First, please consider this toothpick holder for no other particular reason than it exists. In wood. Grubby. Beautiful.

What’s the big deal? you say, I’ve seen cooler design, more beautiful things than that. It’s pretty common place. And grubby. And you’re right. I’ve got nothing more to say about it, so let’s move on.

OK, How about this, then? A little gate roof at an 15^th century temple. I figure the gate roof isn’t that old, but it’s still not brand new. Just look at it.

This is becoming annoying, you say? A moss covered piece of wood? Fine. I’ll try you on something else then.

Think about this: the temple of Horyu-ji, founded in the early 7th century, containing the oldest wooden structures, still standing, in the world. Different sources say different things about what parts are original and what parts burned and were replaced, the guides there pointed to this walkway as the oldest surviving part. Just look at it, 1300 years young. Wood. Look at that design. Just look at it.

 

 

Fine. I get the point. I'm sorry. Here. I saw a traditional wedding at another temple and got permission to photograph the bride and groom. Just look at them.

 

Just look at that hair.

 

 

That's real hair, by the way, not a wig. I have no idea how they do that. I didn't ask. 

And then there's this. In the garden of the Nezu museum in Tokyo.

Now you might be getting angry again. What is it with moss-covered things? Fine. Let's move on.

In Nara, the tame deer wandering about the temples feed on a steady diet of wholesome crackers, for sale in every tourist stall for 100 yen, fed to them by children when then run away squealing because the tongue felt funny.

 

And yes, Hello Kitty is ubiquitous in Japan. Just roll with it.

Now, maybe, you're ready for this: the largest wooden structure in the world, a temple with the largest Buddha in the world. Just look at the scale of the people in front. Note the slope-of-Mt.-Fuji walkways leading up to it. Just look at it.

 

Where are the people? you might ask. I did travel with one and see many. But this is a woodworking blog. So I will end with a forest, where I practiced shinrin yoku. Just feel glad I've spared you from hundreds of architectural detail images with comments such as "look at that amazing craftsmanship."

 

Ok, one more.

 

Basement Bookcase, part 1

My house suffers from a basic problem: too much stuff and nowhere to put it. The problem largely stems from a double infestation of teenage children that we have been unable to manage for several years. To drive them away, my wife and I try to feed them nutritious and healthy food, require them to do the dishes and even insist that they be polite to guests and family. I even set out a copy of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, but none of this has worked, and they remain--eating in the house, sleeping in the house, even lounging about in the house, but most especially leaving their stuff everywhere it shouldn’t be around the house.

The messes have mounted in size over the years in both scale and complexity, involving not just their art projects, model rockets, homework, library books, Call of Duty Black Ops disc, broken pencils, forgotten lego and Playmobil, Chia pets, and comic books, but also my receipts, glasses, thumb drive and can of bag balm, all of which I can never find when needed in a hurry.

“Clean up your messes Especially the one in the basement!” I shout with authority, “Put your stuff away!”

“But dad, it IS cleaned up. The stuff in the basement we put in the corner as there’s nowhere else to put it!” comes the too-rapid, and sadly all-too accurate reply.

"Well, couldn't you stack it more neatly?"

"With the chia pet on top? I don't think so."

And indeed, the mess is cleaned up, sort of, so I can't lay blame on the kids. 

The siren song of the Shakers calls out to me when I look at such piles: “A place for everything and everything in its place.”

More organized storage is the obvious solution and this is a problem only a woodworker can solve.

It is time to don my bionic shop apron and get to work.

The tactic of a lesser mortal would be a trip to Ikea. But This Is The House Of A Proud Woodworker. We will MAKE a bookshelf, and it will be beautiful, useful and enduring. It will be such an amazing bookcase, all our guests will stop and stare at it, their jaws dropped in awe and say “WOW, what an awesome bookcase! Did you get it at Ikea?” And I will say, “No, I made it myself.” And then they’ll want me to make one for them at the price they would pay at Ikea and by the time I get done lecturing them about the Value of the Hand of the Craftsman, they’re no longer such good friends. So it’s probably better to say you didn’t make it, that you found it at a tag sale for $5. It will produce the equivalent amount of envy and admiration.

1.The first step to making an awesome bookcase in your house is to find space in the mess to put a bookcase. Generally walls with bookcases or cabinets are not good places to put new bookcases, but I have thought of it (the outer bookcase just needs casters so you can move it to one side to get at the bookcase behind). This plan, however, has been consistently vetoed by family vote. So I recommend you also find a wall without a bookcase.

I happen to have such a wall in my basement, right above one of the smaller piles. It also looks pretty horrible, after yeasrs of abuse. There are holes from pictures and scribblings from kids, a popped drywall seam, as well as a good stain from a coke float that was dropped while someone (who shall remain nameless) was coming down the stairs. This wall will benefit greatll by being hidden from view with a lovely bookcase.

2. Measure the area you have to work with. It’s mistake number one to make something that won’t fit where you want to put it, though I've only ever heard of people making this mistake and have absolutely no personal experience. In my basement, I have a protruding thingy 72 and 1/4 in. from the floor, where I think there are some pipes. My goal here is to make a bookcase that is not taller than the protruding thingy. And the protruding thingy sticks out about 7 3/4 in. so that’s a good depth to work with for a bookcase. Also, never make a bookcase so big that it won’t fit through a door. I know someone who did just that, a big 9 ft. tall bookcase that was 8 ft. wide. Guess how many 3 ft. by 7 ft. doorways that can fit through? it might take you a few minutes to double check for yourself, but the answer is none.

You see, there’s a lot to think about as a woodworker. Making things is an endless process of problemsolving, even before you start making them. Measure twice and then double check you're measuring the right thing.

Also measure the width of the wall AND the baseboard details. It is a constant problem, to make a bookshelf that fits around a baseboard. You'll see what a nuisance they create later on in the process.

 

3. Now, sit down with pencil and paper and write down all these measurements. It's no use taking them if you forget them. Do little drawings to keep your bearings. I don't label mine, but that's a bad idea. All too often I come back to a drawing a few weeks later and wonder what on earth it shows.

 

4. Figure out what you’re going to build. The more you precisely you draw it, the better. I know a fair number of Google Sketchup Jockeys—CAD programs big and small can be very useful and enjoyable. But they’re not crucial. There is no crucial tool in woodworking. This is one of the key joys and frustrations in woodworking. For every job there are at least ten ways you can do it, none better or worse than any other, just some are faster, easier and more expensive.

I prefer the old note pad, with distracting lines. As this is a basic bookcase, and I really need to get this project done, I've kept the details to a minimum. Rectangular sides, though, are depressing. Yes, they have their place in high-end modernist design, but in my basement they'll just look depressing. So a little curve along the edge of the sides. One to the floor will look better than a triangle, but one ends before the floor will look better. Or at least I think so.

Beautiful furniture is both in the eye of the beholder and also learned. No matter what you say, I cannot be convinced that a polluted river, dark brown with garbage floating in it is beautiful. It just isn't. But if you find great beauty in the artwork of Damien Hirst, well, I won't contradict you, just agree to disagree with you. But to avoid a huge digression into aesthetics, just make your bookcase the way you like, and I'll do the same with mine.

Spend some time thinking through other possibilities. I considered for a few minutes making a bookshelf that went around the corner towards the stairs. The trouble is that it greatly complicates the construction, and you end up with dead space in the corner that’s hard to manage without further complication.

 

So I bagged that idea.

 

5. Figure out how you're going to build it. At this point, I decide how big the bookcase will be, what dimensions, construction techniques (what type of joinery), the length of the shelves, what wood to use and maybe even the finish. Or I try to. Some decisions get put off until later.

More than a 3 ft. span for a bookshelf is too much, and the shelves will end up sagging. I may make them shorter, but not longer. As I've got over 8 ft. of wall space, I could make three shelves, but that's too much effort. So I'll make two shelves 3 ft wide. At least that's the plan. You'll see how other factors will influence those decisions.

Dados and screws are the simplest construction for a bookcase and perfectly strong when attached to the wall. I'll also make the shelves adjustable.

 

It's also a good idea to sketch out the bookcase best you can to see what it will look like. This is a great time to realize a problem not eaily imagined. And I can't imagine an example.

The baseboard will be a problem, but I'll figure out a solution. Maybe the baseboard just goes away. I have a friend with a sawzall.

So we're off and running. The next step is to find wood. I'll take you to a lumber yard in the next post and show you what to look for when buying lumber in general: "caveat emptor," to coin a phase.

If you’re looking for more specific directions on how to build a bookcase, I recommend Niall Barrett’s book Bookcases. It’s a good project book written by a good friend who had a good editor (me). It’s readily available through the Taunton Press and internet book retailers of every stripe.

 

A Transition, of Sorts

It's about time.

I formally apologize for all the crummy mumblings for the last little while, perhaps years now. I've gotten rid of the worst offending blogs and will comb through the rest. Hopefully what's left is a pleasand archive of travel adventures and assorted interesting mumblings.

The trouble is I haven't been anywhere that has captured my imagination, or rather my imagination has been dull to the places I've been, or responded dully to dull places. We all go through flat spots in life, in which the landscape neither inspires us, nor can we inspire the landscape to be more than it deserves.

So from now on, I'll apply Mondaugen's Law to the woodworking I do, and the time I spend in my shop. This is certainly my now, though what kind of bandwidth I've attained I can't rightly say.

Whether you're just curious to see how furniture gets put together, or if you're thinking of learning the craft, I hope you'll find something in each post. If not, complain and I promise to be gracious about it. 

So, for an interim image, here's a plywood kayak I made a while back--the woodworking that travels.