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I know I’m not the only woodworker who has trouble completing projects. I’m pretty sure I’m not the worst, but I suspect I may be in the top 10. It’s not easy to get enough shop time in, and when I’m there I overestimate what I’m capable of, and underestimate how long any task will take. I don’t blame myself for this. I have years of training and professional experience that I need to overcome to get beyond my bad habits.
Early on in my career, I entered an apprenticeship at a large architectural millwork shop. The interview ended with, “We’ll make a cabinetmaker out of you.” I showed up the next morning with my safety shoes on, full of expectations about learning the fine points of joinery. What I had failed to consider was the nature of the work that came through this shop , most jobs were huge in scope, everything wood or wood-like in large office buildings and hospitals. Six weeks after I started I completed assembling my 1,300th radiator cover, was congatulated on doing a fine job, and given a new assignment.
Another six weeks went by as another apprentice and I assembled more than 8,000 square feet of lattice panels for a ceiling in the lobby of an office building. After five weeks my partner had had enough. Without speaking he looked up from the panel we had just finished, aimed his pneumatic staple gun at the ceiling and shot out the flourescent lights before walking out the door. I stayed on, moving from one Herculean task to the next. One of our common jobs was making handrails for the corridors of hospitals. We would make this stuff literally a mile at a time. I had a friend at the time who was a graduate student in psychology. Once when we were talking about my job, my friend said, “You know, that sounds a lot like the sensory-deprivation experiments we do.”
After I was laid off and out of work, I realized there was security in endless lines of carts stacked with lumber waiting to become handrail. When they disappeared, so did my paycheck. I decided to start my own shop, marketing my work at art & craft shows around the country. I had a few pieces of furniture in my booth, but most of my sales were smaller items , lamps, hand mirrors, clocks, candlesticks and jewelry boxes. I never knew going into a show what would sell, so I needed to maintain an inventory of products. My shop time was also limited. I would leave home on Thursday for a show, return home Sunday night, then work almost non-stop until it was time to leave for the next show.
I decided it would be a good idea to keep my inventory as partially finished pieces. I would cut parts for 20 or 30 of something, and finish 10 to take on the road. If they sold, I could finish the remainder. If they didn’t, I would start up a batch of something else. This way of thinking became ingrained, and if I’m starting on something that doesn’t use much material I tend to make enough parts to make a bunch.
When I first started carving, I practiced by making little carvings like the one above. When I accumulated a dozen or so, I realized they could be the tops of jewelry boxes. So I cut parts for 10 boxes, completed one as a Christmas present for my wife, and got distracted by something else. Over the years I’d pull one out and complete it for a graduation or wedding present. That was 12 years ago, and I’m down to parts for two boxes. If you’re looking for a hand mirror, I have a couple left that are nearly ready to go, and there might be some candlesticks that only need a little sanding down in the basement. But before I get to that, I want to replace the handle on this hammer. That’s only been on the list for a year and a half and it’s right here so when I have the time I’ll get on it.
I might be able to someday change my ways, but every so often there turns out to be a good reason to keep this junk around. Fourteen months ago, I began a little project to take with me for a demonstration at the WoodWorks show in Ontario, Calif. I had seen a nice desktop bookrack in an auction catalog that was a great example of through-tenon joinery. The parts were small, and a couple templates were the hard part. So I cut parts to make four bookracks, brought one to near completion, and left the rest at various stages to show the progression. One of the extras came a little closer to being done at the show, but the parts came back and kicked around the shop in a box until last winter.
One day I decided to finish one of the things. I completed it in an afternoon, gave it a couple coats of shellac then let it sit in our office. (I also have trouble taking things home, but that’s another issue.) As we were planning our August issue, my boss said, “That would make a great project; do you still have all the parts?” Of course I did, and I’ve spent the last couple days putting two more together and taking photos. I had to remake one of the templates to show how that is done, and I’m determined to get these finished and home.
Of course, that will have to be put off until after I write the article, edit other articles for August, and post items like this on the blog. But I’ll get to it , if I don’t get distracted. This project doesn’t hold the record for me for elapsed time from start to finish, but the round trip to California earns it the prize for distance.
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