Category Archives: “I’m working on it…”

Whoops!

Even the best of plans can go wrong, from time to time. As I painstakingly installed the till and clamped the box square, I noticed the till bottom was askew.

Somewhere between resawing jointing, and chopping grooves, I had developed a squareness issue. The box itself is square. I cannot very well bust things apart now. Yet, I must deal with a rather glaring mistake. I grabbed a 3/8-inch thick piece of clear pine from my scrap pile and marked out a solution

After sawing out the little ”trim” piece, I realized the issue was most likely a result of misaligned grooves and dados in the box front and back.

Moving forward, I glued the ”trim” piece to the leading edge of the till bottom.

Once the glue dried, the problem was solved!

Now, no one should be the wiser, since the till bottom is not visible. That is until four hundred years from now when someone writes an erudite paper on the Aylor Wedge-Shaped Trim Piece.

Whew!

Two Grooves, Two Dados, No Waiting

One of the biggest challenges in making a 17th-century style carved box is the till; a small lidded compartment fitted on the box’s interior.

With the carcass loosely fitted together, I cut the till parts to size.

If the till parts are too long, they can keep the box from coming together. I allow an extra 1/2-inch in length for the till front and bottom and form 1/4-inch long pintles on the lid. I then bore holes in the box front and back and position the lid.

Dados and grooves are laid-out for the till front and bottom.

Having cut the front and bottom 1/4-inch longer than the box interior, I bring the dados and grooves to a depth of 5/16-inch, to facilitate a loose fit.

Then, with a great deal of manual dexterity and just a modicum of foul language, the till is wedged between the box front and back.

When the till lid is open, it can support the open box lid.

Up next is the linden floor and lid. Stay tuned!

Walnut Dye and Clinched Nails

As my master saltbox slowly became a reality, sporting its lid, bottom, and half-blind dovetailed drawer, I took the time to apply a walnut-ish dye to darken things up. I think the darker color helps the carving to standout.

After a few coats of shellac, it was time to install the hinges. Having located and bored holes before finishing, I positioned the butterfly hinges and drove cut-nails partway in.

From the back-side, I then bent the nails to ninety-degree angles.

I then drove the nails in the rest of the way, and further bent them, embedding the points into the wood.

Using a small sledgehammer as an anvil, I flattened the nails, even more, creating what looks like staples on the back-side.

In doing so, the nails are rendered unusable for any other purpose. They would be difficult to remove and even more difficult to use again elsewhere. As you can guess, proper test fitting is essential. Clinching nails was a common practice on board and batten and multi-layered doors. A Nail bent in this fashion is commonly called dead, thus the phrase, dead as a doornail.

Salt

Throughout history, salt has been pivotal to civilization. Salt is essential to good health. Before the advent of electrically powered refrigeration, salting was one of the main methods of food preservation. As a flavoring, salt enhances the taste of food, making it more palatable. Salt has long held an important place in religion and culture. The ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans invoked their gods with offerings of salt and water, and some people think this to be the origin of Holy Water in the Christian faith.

In damp weather, moisture in the air interacts with salt, causing it to deteriorate. Salt is also caustic hence the necessity for suitable storage. A wooden container allows the salt to breathe, enhancing its quality and taste.

The saltbox was full of meaning, over and above its practical importance. It was a symbol of hospitality in Germany and suggested a well-run and comfortable home in Britain and Ireland too. Saltboxes ran the gamut from the primitive to the highly elaborate. Large receptacles were known as standing or master saltboxes, usually placed at the head of the table or on a buffet. From the master salt, smaller salt dishes were filled and positioned at each place setting.

Although in linden, my version of a master saltbox is inspired by a Charles II oak carved saltbox, circa. 1680, from Marhamchurch Antiques in Devon, England.

I decided to take liberties with the carving and have the running vine flow from the drawer front to the front and onto the sides. I am pleased with how it turned out.

All that’s lacking at this point is a lid and bottom. I am considering a dark walnut-ish dye, finished off with boiled linseed oil, and topped with a few coats of shellac.

Stay tuned!

I’m Back …

I just realized that I haven’t posted to the blog in over a week. Between the few days respite after finishing the Elizabethan-ish desk box and some rainy weather, I guess I just lost track of what I had or had not posted. Sorry about that!

After a day or two of lounging on the sofa, I started carving on a small piece of poplar.

This piece eventually became a small box.

Considering how well the red wine turned out on the desk box, I decided to try out yet another beverage, this time with some strong black tea!

Once the tea dried, I slathered the box with linseed oil and turpentine and topped it off with a few coats of shellac. With another box added to the Wareroom, I dove into yet another project. This time one of a saltbox in linden, roughly 8″ D x 12″ W x 17″ H. Please note the highly detail drawing. LOL!

I’ll be carving once I figure out the parts. The finish for this box is still up in the air. Perhaps I’ll use the remaining walnut dye. We’ll see!

Nailed It!

Oh my! The clinching of the nails went better than I expected. I was apprehensive at first. I have clinched nails before, just not on a finished piece. But with steady hammer blows my efforts paid off!

Some of the Tremont cut nails flattened out a bit too soon, but are clinched nonetheless. The hinges are quite secure!

I honestly love the primitive simplicity of butterfly hinges!

Now, on to the three tiny drawers. Stay tuned!

Top It Off!

Before the final assembly of the carcase with glue and nails, I decided to darken the poplar floor and till walls with a black stain. I’ve gotten mixed reviews, but I think it looks great. I can only assume the future owner will think so, too!

With a slight alteration to the centre divider and a few coats of shellac, the carcase was glued and nailed. Just wedged between the sides, the interior parts were quite the ballet. Fitting the drawer dividers was more difficult than one might think. The top is proud of the bottom shelf by about 3/8 of an inch!

William Maddox, an historical interpreter, made these awesome butterfly hinges. In their primitive simplicity, they validate the period look I was trying to achieve.

I intend to secure the hinges via clinched nails. But first, I need to position them just right. Temporary wooden pegs make this task so much easier!

Before clinching the hinges in place, I added a thumbnail detail to the top’s front edge. The lid has the same feature, but in reverse, it should look nice when opened. As I have stated before, results do vary when it comes to the wine bath. The board used for the top and lid did not take the wine the same as the one used for the carcase. I guess that’s good, in a way, it gives the appearance of wear and tear, on the horizontal surfaces.

Guess I best get to clinching those nails! Stay tuned.

Put it Together, Take it Apart!

After cutting grooves in the exterior pieces of the desk box, I selected a broad poplar board for the bottom. Having calculated the length with ease, I slipped the rule into the groove in one of the sides and read, eleven and three-sixteenths of an inch. I measured the width three times. Each time reading, eleven and three-sixteenths of an inch. I cut the board to size, ran a 1/4-inch tongue around the perimeter, and even chamfered the edges. Perfect! Well, not so much. Somewhere along the way, I lost focus and read the opposite side of the rule. My floor needed to be twelve and thirteen-sixteenths of an inch deep. Damn!

I quickly retrieved the cutoff and fashioned a spacer to fill the gap. The “spacer” appeared fine on the inside but left a rather interesting “valley” when viewed from the bottom. I can only imagine that 400 years from now, there will be some erudite paper written on the Aylor Expansion Joint. LOL!

With the bottom debacle resolved, I continued with grooves and dados on and for the various interior parts.

As with all boxes of the type, the till is the most challenging. Typically, the till parts are wedged in place by the box front and back. The back, in this case, is loosely wedged between the sides. It is quite the ballet to fit all the parts together at the same time with only two hands. But with the help of painter’s tape and a few colourful words of encouragement, things come together, eventually!

Before the last test fit before final assembly, I took time to “stain” the exterior with a 50% reduction of red wine. I used this same colouring technique on a small jewellery box and a prie-dieu some time back.

I am considering even more contrast by darkening the poplar bottom and till fronts with my homemade walnut dye. So, I guess I need to take it apart, one more time!

Next time it goes together with glue and nails. I guess t’s time to attach a top and lid. Now, where did I put those butterfly hinges?

Follow the Line!

Having thrown caution to the wind and experiencing the slightest bit of resistance from the grainy red oak, the carving phase of my desk ground to a halt.

Excepting for some wild grain on the right side, things turned out quite well. At least I think it meets muster!

With the carving under my belt, it was time to start building a box. First up rebates were cut on the edges of the front and back.

Keeping the rebates square surely helps when it comes to maintaining a level fit. That piece of granite counter-top comes in handy, too. Even if my bench is slightly unlevel, at least I know the granite is perfectly flat!

Before nailing the box together, there is a great deal of work to be done on the interior. Lot’s of grooves, dados, and pintle holes for the various dividers and tills need to be laid out and cut.

Some folks might think a mortise gauge the perfect tool to layout a groove or dado. After all, they are the go-to tool for laying out a mortice. Right? I own three mortise gauges; one I made decades ago, a fancy new one with brass inlay, and a strange one found in a thrift store a few years back.

Want to know a secret? To date, I have not used any of these tools to layout a groove, dado, or mortise. Seriously, my go-to tool for all that is the combination of a marking-gauge, and of course the mortise chisel, itself.

Why make matters difficult? If you can follow a line with a chisel, why do you need that second line?

Voila!

Back in a few, stay tuned.

Decisions, Decisions

As I stated earlier, the slope of the desk-box offers a bit of a challenge when it comes to the carving. Typically, I wrap a carving pattern around the corner from the front onto the sides, but here that would leave a great deal of blank space. I decided to carve a portion of the pattern from the front and take up the remaining space with a rondel. Filling that space was now my new challenge.

While at the drawing board, I played with a few possibilities. Firstly, I thought, why not do something that accentuates the motif on the front.

Then I thought, how about something more traditional?

Or perhaps something unique.

Throwing caution to the wind, I decided to let the rondel dictate the carving!

Looking back, I’m quite glad I did! What are your thoughts?

Hopefully, I can repeat all of that on the right side and get to work on the interior. Stay tuned!