When you design a piece of furniture to build, there are three well-worn paths (some might call them ruts) to follow.

The first path is to design a piece in a wholly original style. This actually happens about once or twice a century, and its rarity is why we don?t have furniture styles such as ?Early Bill,? ?Middle Chuck? or the ?Late Butch Period.? Few people alive can claim they have successfully launched a style, but don?t let that stop you from trying.

The second approach is to build replicas, either spot-on or with mild alterations, such as an additional drawer, or substituting a square ovolo moulding for a bead. This is a good way to learn the vocabulary of different styles, though it is time-consuming to learn everything by the doing. Some woodworkers (even professionals) might build only six pieces in a year.

The third approach is to design a new piece with vintage parts, like rebuilding an old car. With this approach, you expose yourself to hundreds of images of the form. You could look at tables, cabriole legs or Arts & Crafts desks, for example. Then you select your piece?s dominant element from the library ? say a leg, a door or a bonnet ? and design your piece around that. (However, you can?t easily mix parts from different genres. It might seem like a good idea to put a Honda push rod in a Chevy, until you hit that metric barrier.)

When asked the secret to good design, Steve Hamilton, a builder at Mack S. Headley & Sons (headleyandsons.com), boiled it down to two words: ?Picture books,? he said. ?Get a bunch. Look them over.?

Design on the Run
Designing a suitable early American wall cupboard for Woodworking Magazine began with a day in our collection of books and images. You don?t need to spend a lot of money to build a book collection, most of the resources you need are at the public library and on the Internet.

My first stop was Wallace Nutting?s ?A Furniture Treasury.? This book is available in many different forms, and it?s common to find copies for about $25. The book is as-advertised. It?s hundreds of pages of images of early American stuff that has been organized into categories such as ?chests? and ?Windsor chairs.?

The second source was auction catalogs from Christie?s (christies.com) and Sotheby?s (sothebys.com) auction houses. The catalogs these houses publish for their Americana auctions are outstanding. Good images. Good overall dimensions. And good history lessons as well. These catalogs can be pricey at $50 or more, but you can usually browse the catalogs on the Internet for free, though sometimes you have to register with the auction house (registration is free).

The third source was an old favorite of mine from my grandparents? library: ?Fine Points of Furniture: Early American? (Crown) by Albert Sack. This common book can be had for about $10 ? the new revised edition is much more expensive and rare. Sack?s book compares different kinds of pieces and ranks them as ?good,? ?better? or ?best.? This book helps hone your tastes in mouldings, proportion and turnings.

After a day of reading, I chose a fetching tombstone door from Nutting?s book and found many tall and skinny shapes for wall cupboards that looked like pieces I had seen at Winterthur, the DuPont?s Delaware estate and museum.

My design firmed up when my doctor got too busy for me one Wednesday. After showing up for my appointment, I was told there would be an hour delay. So I sat in my car and sketched about 10 wall cabinets. I didn?t worry about dimensions or joinery, just the overall look and feel of the piece. Each sketch took about five minutes and tried out variations on the door (one or two?), the drawer (one, two or none?) and the width of the stiles and rails (chunky or light?).

After those sketches, I chose the best two designs, sketched them again and showed them around to woodworkers and friends. It sounds like a lot of work, but I have found that good design is like making stir fry: You first chop vegetables and mix sauces for a long time. The active cooking time is real short ? if you?ve done your prep work.

? Christopher Schwarz

John is working on completing the Trestle Table

I used my tax stimulus money to buy a flat screen TV.  The problem is that I have to walk past the TV to get to the shop.  So I was enjoying TV in all it flatness when I saw the end of the table sticking out of the shop.  It seemed to beckon me as it lay there cupped and in need of work.  But, I am a man, so I grabbed the remote and ignored it.  Now I am back at it and dealing with the cup across the width of the table.

The trestle table top (say that three times fast!)  is made from two book matched cherry boards.  They finished out at 103 inches long and 13 inches wide.  I added a middle board to the two book matched pieces to get a final width of 31 inches.  This was going to be a kitchen table but with the length, it goes into the living room.  I could have cut the top?only kidding, I would never cut boards like that.  Would you? 

The thickness of the top is just under ¾ inch so it flattens when forced without that nasty cracking noise that indicates you just learned another lesson.  The cup, which you can see in the picture, is a ¼ inch.  For the picture I clamped on side of the table flat so you can see the total cup that I needed to flatten. 

Now the bread board ends create a cross grain situation and wood movement becomes an issue.  I like wood movement! There I said it.  I like feeling the non flush edges that arrive with the seasons.  My friend has a table from the great Christian Becksvoort and he insisted on bread board ends.  He can feel with his fingers that the top has moved.  I like these oddities and have added divots and ridges under the arms of chairs for a person to finger when sitting.  These subtle aspects humanize a piece. 

First thing to do was to determine the size and layout of the tennons.  Since we have a cross grain situation I am only going to glue the middle tennon,.  I decided on three tennons because it gives me a middle.  I think five tennons would work if the width would accommodate it.  I also used a stub tennon on the entire width of the top.  This stub is 3/8 inch in length.  The thickness of all tennons is a ¼ inch.  A rule of thumb in deciding the widths of the tennons is the have all of them equal ½ the total width of the table.  For me, I made them 5 inches for a total tennon width of 15 inches.  It is also important to have enough wood at the ends of the bread boards so I started the tennons ¾ inch in from the edge.  I marked the mortis locations from the tennons.  I increased the mortis for the end tennons by 1/8 inch on each side to allow for movement.

As a kid, probably the first furniture style that I ever became aware of was the Prairie style, the strongly rectilinear forms that most people associate with Frank Lloyd Wright.

My dad had lots of books about architecture lying around the house that he used to help him design the two houses for our farm outside Hackett, Ark. I used these books to help me design model houses that I built using Legos and wooden blocks.

Lucky for me, Prairie-style houses and furniture are easily built with rectilinear Legos. And Wright's system of proportioning favored 2:1 ratios ? that's the ratio my wooden block set used.

The last piece of the puzzle was the cape that my mom made for me when I was 5 so I could be Superman at Halloween. After seeing photos of Wright wearing a cape, I also took to wearing my cape when I'd build houses and furniture in my room.

I know what you are thinking: It's amazing that I ever married.

In any case, I've always been drawn to Wright's aesthetic. I've visited houses of his in many cities, I've been through his furniture and papers at the Prairie Archive at the Milwaukee Art Museum, and one of the highlights of my young life was sitting in one of his original barrel chairs.

So I'm quite excited to get started on a new project for an upcoming issue of Woodworking Magazine ? an end table designed in the style of Frank Lloyd Wright. I didn't want to slavishly copy one of his designs, and so I'm hoping to build a piece that is inspired by a table at the Dana House (one of my favorite tours), and uses geometric forms found at the May House in Grand Rapids, Mich.

I've drawn a bunch of sketches, but I decided that this piece really calls out for a full-size prototype in wood. Luckily, we have some thick ash lying around the shop that's left over from a co-worker's bench-building project, so there was only a little bit of machine work required to get the parts in shape.

My favorite tool for building prototypes is my Kreg pocket-hole jig. This sucker allows me to assemble and disassemble projects quickly. I screw them together, shake my head at the stupid design choices I've made, unscrew the parts, trim them down and then start the process over.

This weekend I got the basic form real close after about three hours of work. My top started out entirely too thick. It was 2" thick and now it's more like 1-5/8". Now I just need to fuss around with the inside guts to get the geometrical designs inside looking good. My No. 1 concern is where I place the large suspended square. Because end tables are typically viewed from a standing position, I need to get it close to the floor.

I'm also a bit worried that things will look too busy inside the table if I put two of these squares in the base. Perhaps I need to go home tonight, put on my old cape (yup, I still got it) and page through some more picture books on Wright.

? Christopher Schwarz

1. Wardrobe, 1779, walnut, yellow pine, oak, and sulfur inlay, and with rattail hinges.
   
2. Side Chair, 1866, oak.
3. Desk & Bookcase, 1827, mahogany, mahogany veneer, stained burl ash, white pine, yellow poplar, and stringing. The Franklin Institute's report on its 1827 exhibit in which this piece won an award stated that it was "the best piece of furniture" of its kind.
4. Shaker Sewing Desk, Enfield New Hampshire community. Birdseye maple, cherry, walnut, and poplar.
5. Spectacle Case, 1800-1850, cherry, Shaker. Note the ridged side pulls.
6. PA German Painted Cupboard.
7. Shaker Worktable, 1800-1850, white pine and maple.
8. Giant Plug, cherry, from the Pop Art collection.

Well, it seems my brother had been keeping great great granddad's old spinning wheel - I had forgotten the box that it was in when I left the homestead, and he had been storing it for me. After reading the last piece I did on spinning wheels, he must have read it and remembered he had it -and got it out in the mail to me - because it arrived a week or so afterwards:

It's missing some pieces, but there's a good majority of it still there. The legs and pedal are gone, and it's missing the two pieces that hold the bobbin/axle.

It's an interesting piece to me on several counts... First, it was made by great great grandad... Second, it's a study in wooden machinery - everything has a purpose and yet it's still elegantly constructed. Third, it's an example of true frontier craftsmanship. I'm not sure of the exact date, my best guess would have been somewhere near the 1870 to 1890 range, in the Dakotas. This would have been made with the most meager set of tools, and quite far out in the country... I think I remember reading the nearest flour mill at the time was a full day away.

It's made from at least three, but more likely four distinctively different woods, from what I can see - and I think you can tell somewhat in the top photo. I'm not positive of the exact species, but from my experience with wood and my knowledge of the trees native to the area in which it was made, my best guesses would be birch or elm, maple, and basswood or poplar. I will get into where each was used as I deconstruct the thing.

Metal pieces would have been difficult to fabricate and expensive to purchase, so their use was kept to an absolute minumum. Could he have bought the metal pieces, or had a machinist make them for him? It's a possiblity. The pieces could have been ordered via mail order and shipped to the closest dry-goods store... yet they do all show at least some amount of fabrication. That eveidence could just be the technology of the time showing through, however - I'm just not qualified enough to say.

The only metal pieces are the axle/treadle drive on the fly wheel, the metal hooks on the spinner/flyer, and the axle for the flyer/flyer whorl assembly. The metal reinforcement on the flyer (the U-shaped piece in the photo below) shows signs of hammering to shape, and is riveted in place with metal pins and is surely of his own making.

The part that would have probably been the most difficult to make would have been the axle for the bobbin/flyer assembly... It appears it was made from something else, and made to work. I'm not exactly sure what it would have originally been had he fabricated it - it might even be two pieces, I can't really tell. The center was drilled out from the end and from the side to create the orifice that allows the fiber to be fed through it.... Both holes are off center, and show some evidence of being drilled and filed by hand.

You can see the orifice on the axle of the flyer on the right in the above photo, where the fiber is fed into the wheel. The far end of the axle in the photo above has a small taper to it - and is also threaded to hold the bobbin and flyer whorl on. It looks to me like the tapering was done by mounting the bolt in a wood lathe and tapering it using a file while turning. Fine metal work would have been difficult on the prairie in those days... and this is one of the things that lead me to believe this piece was at least partially fabricated by old great great granddad.

The bobbin (on the left in the above photo), the flyer, and the flyer whorl are all made from a very dense, close-grained wood - my guess is maple, though it could be just about anything of a similar nature. It needed to be, as the walls of the pulleys on them as well as the U-shape of the flyer makes using a strong wood imperative. The bobbinis made from a single piece... You can see by the breaks that it was made from a straight piece of about 3" round wood. The hole the axle slides through goes all the way through the bobbin, obviously - my best guess as to how this was made would be to first drill the hole through the rough blank - then mount the blank in the lathe and turn the bobbin to its final dimension. This would assure the axle hole would be centered on the bobbin. The far end of the bobbin is actually the first pulley you would use as part of the flyer whorl assembly - you see it in the next photo and the one two down that shows the whorl in it's place.

Here you can see the far end of the bobbin and the leather "bearing" that the axle is pushed into (the flyer whorl is not in this photo - it would take up the space between the bobbin and the adjuster piece the leather bearing is pressed into):

Both ends of the axle were mounted in leather bearings... but unfortunately the maiden that holds the closer end was missing on the original. Using another wheel made by granddad's brother, he fashioned the maiden with a leather bearing similarly to how that wheel was constructed:

You can see that it was simply a thick chunk of leather, glued into the maiden. This allows for the bobbin assembly to be easily removed from the wheel, simply by turning the maiden. There's not a lot of pressure on these bearings so they function quite well (as evidenced by dad's copy), and the leather would simply have been replaced as it wore out. Lubrication, if any, would have been tallow or beeswax.

The flyer whorl is made with two different sized pulleys so you can adjust the speed of the flyer - faster for more twists per inch in your yarn, and slower for fewer. More twists made for a stronger thread - but took more raw fiber. Fewer produced more "fluffy" yarns, good for sweaters and the like.... at least that's what I think - I have no experience spinning my own yarn. I still have the flyer whorl for the original, though unfortunately only half of it - but it does show how it is constructed pretty well:

You can see the differing diameters of the pulley to allow the flyer to spin at different speeds depending on where you placed the drive bands. The bobbin spins freely on the axle so is independent of the flyer whorl.  It is driven by its own pulley on the end next to the whorl that is a slightly different diameter - this is so the bobbin would spin at a different speed than the flyer.  Otherwise the yarn would only spin in place - with the different speed it slowly spools onto the bobbin as you feed more fiber into the orifice.

This is known as a "Scotch Brake"...  it basically means the yarn spools quite slowly onto the bobbin, while being twisted (for strength) many, many times for each single time it spools on the bobbin - which is the major function of the wheel.  It is this twisting that gives the yarn it's strength - without it, it would simply pull apart.

A good spinner feeds fiber into the orifice at a steady rate, thusly avoiding thinned out or lumpy yarn that is strong enough to knit.  More twists per inch results in a thinner, stronger thread - fewer provide fluffier, more insulating yarn.

The drive bands would have been simple twine or leather strips, or possibly even yarn - it didn't need a great deal of force to twist the fiber, so grip wasn't terribly crucial - speed was.

You can also see the tensioner knob assembly in the photo above at the top of the aptly named "Mother of All". It's broken as well, but it shows how it was made... A threadbox would have been pretty standard fair in most shops of the time, so that's not too surprising to find. It still works quite well, even after being exposed to the elements for many years.... The Mother of All is broken here as you can see in the photo above and below, but again at least we can see what it looks like:

The Mother of All is so aptly named as it is the main structural element of the wheel - everything pretty much hangs off of it. It, along with the maidens and most of the spindle work (with the exception of the spokes in the wheel) are made from a hardwood I would say is either elm or birch - it's hard to tell exactly as the wood is aged so. But those were common woods used in local furniture of the time - especially turned furniture. Oak was available and used extensively for standard casework, but wasn't preferred for turning because of it's open grain and it's tendency to tear out. I would imagine the elm or birch was riven and turned green, much in the fashion of windsor style chairs, and wedges were used to fasten the tenons to the half-moon shaped base (which I think was made of either poplar - but could be basswood)... There would not have been any kilns in the area, any dried lumber would have been air-dried.

Which brings me to the fly wheel, the most prominent piece of the spinning wheel, has some interesting construction methods. The outer wheel was constructed from four separate pieces. The wheel is made what I think is basswood, though it could be poplar, I suppose... both are plentiful in the area. There are a couple ofreasons that basswood would appropriate here. First, a lighter weight wheel would be easier to spin. Women using these wheels would often spin for many hours on end, for many days in a row... ease of use was paramount in their design. Second, basswood is a very easy wood to work... Mounting a wheel this size and turning it in a treadle lathe would have been quite a task... the easier one could make the task, the better. Third - since these wheels didn't carry a load, like say maybe a wagon wheel would, there would be little or no structural stresses on them, so basswood met the bill.

The pieces for the outer rim were first assembled before they were turned using splines and wooden pegs to hold them in place. You can see here where one of the pegs was placed too far out and was turned into:

The outer wheel itself was not constructed in the same manner as a wagon wheel - where the spokes have tenons that mount into the outer wheel - for the reasons mentioned above. It was first assembled and then turned without the spokes - they were added afterwards. Here you can see one I've pulled out:

After the main hub was turned, the spokes were made to fit inside the outer rim, then holes were drilled through the rim into the spokes - and a wooden dowel was driven in to hold the spokes in place. There just one problem with that - how do you make sure the hub is centered in the outer rim? Well - my best guess is that the hub and spokes were made first. The hub first, then the spokes, which could then be glued into the hub. The hub could then be mounted on a temporary axle and turned, allowing you to mark the end of the spokes in the same location as you turned the hub. The outer rim could then be turned to match this dimension... It's just an educated guess, mind you - but the best I can come up with given the circumstances.

As for the hub, it's one piece, with an axle that mounts into the adjacent spindles thusly:

The far side of the axle has an offset that attaches to the footman, which then is attached to the treadle. And yes - at the lower left of the hub in the photo above, that is a knot... As a matter of fact, it continues through to the other side:

Why would he have used a piece with a knot like that in it, you might ask? I would put forth that it was a matter of convenience... As I mentioned above, a lot of the wood used for the contruction of this wheel would probably have been worked green. The wheel would have had to be dried wood though. Most likely that meant that it was was harvested from already dead wood - possibly even seasoned firewood. There wasn't storage space available for storing wood while it dried... The house they lived in would probably have been the size of your living room and housed 5-7 people... The barn would have been similarly small was soley for livestock. The shed that served as a shop would have been more like a lean-to, perhaps with a pot-belly stove if the owner was well-off. So dried wood was a luxury most couldn't afford, but for the wheel it would have been necessary as green wood would have shrunk and rendered the wheel useless. So it's my guess it came from whatever was available - and since it didn't need to be all that strong, it wasn't a problem structurally. Also, I should mention that the knot would not have been this pronounced when it was made - this particular wheel was exposed to the elements for many years, so has weathered quite a lot. Originally, it would have been a very tight knot.

About all that's left is the base, legs, footman, and treadle - and all I have of those is the base... The base is made of poplar, it appears. I remember hearing the half-moon shape was a sort of trademark of his, but I'm not sure of this... compared to the other his brother did later, its a unique feature and was supposedly preferred by the people who used them as they were stronger. I do recall hearing that this makers' work was highly prized by those who received it, at least within the area he lived.

I may restore this old wheel someday - no, it will never be in working order again, but I may try to get it just so it is all in one piece and has all of the parts, just for display. I doubt it's worth much to anyone but me - but it sure is fun to have around to look at and to study, to give one appreciation for the original maker and the methods and material he used in creating it.

The maker, my great-great granddad, was a very adept turner, furniture maker, and woodoworker. He used green wood quite a bit, as I think can be seen in another of his works which I will show just for reference - a crib made of elm:

It appears he also used steam to bend wood, as you can see - obviously a very industrious fellow for someone truly out in the sticks... This crib was used all the way into the 1960's as I recall... It's been retired for obvious reasons since then, but still remains in the family, well over a century after it was made.

• Knuckles (part 1)
• Knuckles (part 2)
• Knuckles (part 3)
• Drawing Volutes
• Knuckles (part 4)

Photo copyright and courtesy of Peter Galbert

Gebyok Center has specializing in the reproduction of the traditional house of Kudus with its part, but not shut the possibility to provide furniture and other antique decoration that match with the design interior of the traditional house of Kudus or for other purpose that suit with the buyer needs.

The providing of the other products are include antique furniture like table and chairs for living room, bed, divan as relaxing place, wooden carved box as a deposit box, etc. All is part of the commitment of Gebyok Center to dedicate the best product results of the finest wooden carved art of Kudus for the customers.

Between bites of salad, Kevin Drake pauses to take a close look at the common chair sitting in our local Panera.
 
When I look at the chair, all I see is your typical bent-lamination, factory-made, comfortable-for-about-32-minutes padded chair.
 
But Kevin, the founder of Glen-Drake Toolworks, sees a lesson in Japanese aesthetics and composition by Japanese arts teacher Shozo Sato. What is the dominant focus for the viewer? What is the sub-dominant; the subordinate?

I was chewing my food at the beginning of the explanation, but by the end I was listening so intently that I forgot about the baguette soaking in my own mouth juices as I finally "saw" the chair.

Nothing makes me happier than to have lunch with someone whose brain is on fire with ideas different than mine. Someone who sees the same world with different eyes.

Which brings us to handsaws.

It's a common thing to read in woodworking texts that the ripping teeth in a Western saw (power- or hand-driven) are shaped like chisels. And that crosscutting teeth are shaped like knives.

But when Kevin sees sawteeth, he sees something different. He sees the function of the teeth relating more to its "rake," which is how forward or backwards each sawtooth leans. On a handsaw, teeth with the cutting face straight up have "zero rake." Teeth that lean forward into the cut have a more aggressive rake. And teeth that lean backward have a relaxed rake. (Whether the rake is "postive" or "negative" depends on whether it's a power tool or hand tool user describing it.)
 
To Kevin, Western ripping teeth don't look like chisels; they look like scrapers. Scrapers attack the work in an almost vertical position – like a zero-rake sawtooth. I can see this (see the photo at the top of this entry of a wooden model of Western sawteeth).
 
And to Kevin, it's the Japanese-style sawteeth (shown above right) that look like chisels. They lean forward like a chisel being used for paring. And I can see this, too.
 
So Kevin then asks three questions:
 
1. What type of wood scrapes better, hardwoods or softwoods? Easy. The harder the wood, the easier it scrapes.
 
2. In general, which woods are harder, Japanese woods or Western woods? Again, it's an easy question. Western woods are harder.
 
3. When you scrape a wood, is it easier to push the tool or pull it? You can do it both ways, but I definitely prefer to push the tool.
 
"That," Kevin says, "is why I prefer Western push-style saws."
 
That statement was like a Zen Buddhist riddle (called a koan) for me. Thanks Kevin. Now I'll never look at my saws (or the Panera chairs) in the same way ever again.
 
— Christopher Schwarz

When we started Woodworking Magazine, one of the things we definitely wanted to include as part of the fabric of the publication were quotations about the craft that made us laugh or think.

And when we launched our first issue in March 2004, there was no doubt or discussion about what quote would be emblazoned at the top of the first page:

This fall, our magazine is sponsoring the first-ever weekend conference devoted to hand tools and learning to use them.

We're calling it the Woodworking in America conference, and we'll be bringing together the country's best hand-tool woodworkers and manufacturers for a symposium in Berea, Ky., on Nov. 14-16.

There will be more than 40 short classes on tools and techniques during the long weekend, plus a marketplace where toolmakers can display (and sell) their wares, social events with the demonstrators and toolmakers and more.

So who is going to be there? Here's the list of people who have agreed to teach seminars during Woodworking in America as of this date (with more to come):

Roy Underhill: Known as "St. Roy" to the legion of fans who watch "The Woodwright's Shop" on PBS, Roy worked at Colonial Williamsburg and then launched his show about traditional hand tools.

Frank Klausz: One of the country's consummate craftsmen, Frank is a professional New Jersey cabinetmaker who trained in Hungary and has a lifetime of experience with the full range of handwork.

Michael Dunbar: Founder of The Windsor Institute, Michael has single handedly revived the craft of building Windsor chairs, has trained thousands of woodworkers and is a passionate student of the art and history of handcraft.

Adam Cherubini: The author of Popular Woodworking's popular "Arts & Mysteries" column, Adam is a devoted 18th-century woodworker who builds period pieces using period tools.

James Blauvelt: A Connecticut cabinetmaker, joiner and carpenter, James owns Bluefield Joiners and is a student and teacher of Japanese tools and traditions.

Robin Lee: The president of Lee Valley Tools in Ottawa, Ontario, Robin has been a driving force behind the expansion of the Veritas line of premium handplanes and a caretaker of the company's immense tool collection.

Thomas Lie-Nielsen: The founder of Lie-Nielsen Toolworks in Warren, Me., Thomas has been making and selling premium traditional hand tools for 27 years. Thomas's company was the trailblazer in reviving many traditional forms of tools that had been lost.

Larry Williams and Don McConnell: Two of the principals behind Clark & Williams in Eureka Springs, Ark., Larry and Don are bottomless wells of information about traditional tools and their workings. Both are accomplished woodworkers, planemakers and tool historians.

John Economaki: The founder of Bridge City Tool Works in Portland, Ore., John has long been a pioneer in developing new (and very beautiful) forms of hand tools for woodworkers.

Konrad Sauer: The owner of Sauer & Steiner Toolworks in Ontario, Konrad is one of the leading makers of custom infill handplanes.

Wayne Anderson:Wayne specializes in designing and building custom infill handplanes that are deeply rooted in the past but are each a completely original work of art.

Ron Hock: One of the earliest and most important players in the revival of handtools, Ron makes high-quality replacement plane irons, chipbreakers and marking knives in Ft. Bragg, Calif.

Mike Wenzloff: The founder of Wenzloff & Sons sawmakers in Forest Grove, Ore., Mike is a long-time woodworker and expert in saws and saw sharpening. His premium saw business has exploded in the last two years.

Joel Moskowitz: The founder of Tools for Working Wood and an expert on woodworking history, Joel has recently been making many traditional hand tools, as well as selling them through his catalog and web site.

Clarence Blanchard: The publisher of "The Fine Tool Journal" and the president of Brown Auction Services, Clarence sees more old tools in a week than most of us see in a lifetime.

Kevin Drake: After studying under James Krenov at the College of the Redwoods, Kevin founded Glen-Drake Toolworks, where he combines woodworking, toolmaking and education. His innovative tools have received numerous awards; we named his Tite-Mark one of the "Best 12 Tools Ever." 

If you are interested in attending, please visit the web site that is dedicated to this conference at WoodworkinginAmerica.com and sign up for the conference's newsletter (the sign-up box is on the top right of the page). You'll then be the first to be notified of when registration will open (it will be before July 1) and the pricing for this event.

Attendance will be limited to a few hundred people (we want to keep the event intimate and manageable), so be sure to register as soon as slots become available. We are expecting the conference to sell out.

There are more announcements and surprises ahead that I cannot share with you right now, so please stay tuned to the blog and the conference's newsletter.

— Christopher Schwarz

Editor's note: Because it's "Workbench Week Internazionale" I decided to tie up a loose end from my book: "Workbenches: from Blah, blah blah to Yadda yadda yadda." On page 57 I discuss Thomas Stangeland's bench and point out how the best woodworking I've seen has been built on the most minimal of workbenches.

Helpful reader Tom Moore visited Stangeland's shop recently and snapped the above photo of the bench. Below is the story that goes with that workbench.


In 2006 I taught a class in handwork at a school where