I started woodworking completely by chance. Through a mutual friend, I came to Harrison (Higgins)'s attention right when his shop needed an extra pair of hands. For the first several months I didn't do much but catch boards coming out of machines. He had a contract job making furniture for one of the hotels at Colonial Williamsburg, and he needed one more grunt laborer.

One aspect of the job was a production run of roughly 100 maple pencil post beds. Rough 8/4 lumber would be sawn and dressed into 8-foot blanks 1 ¾? square in cross section. The blanks would be marked then mortised for headboards and rails as required. The tapers were cut on the bandsaw, and holes were bored for bed bolts.

Once all of this relatively interesting work was done, and a giant pile of pencil posts had materialized on a pair of saw horses in the middle of the shop floor, an apprentice had to remove the machine marks with a hand plane and sand each facet of the post for an eternity.

Guess who got that job! It was extreme drudgery, but I did learn how to use a plane effectively. Eventually I also learned how to carve the lamb's tongue that marked the transition from the tapers to the lower, flat section of the posts.

The first piece I can remember feeling proud of was a desk I made for myself after hours at Harrison's shop. It's still my main desk, but now all I see are its flaws and its telltale signs of having been made by a not-yet-very-skilled amateur. Luckily, though, I feel a certain sense of satisfaction?if not pride?whenever I make something well.

I know I've made something well when there's a seamlessness that proceeds from the initial daydreaming through the design and fabrication and finally the finish. It's a good feeling. I wish I could say I felt it with every project, but I don't. My mood and mindset seem to have at least as much to do with my work's quality as any objective skill level I may possess.

A guy named Lewis who worked at Harrison's shop in the early 90's had seen my band play, and he and I had several mutual friends in the Richmond music scene. I ran into him outside the shop once on my way to the post office, and he invited me in to see the place.

Harrison and his partner Alan (the finisher) didn't want anything to do with me. They saw a skinny shaven-headed punk kid, and they didn't figure I'd be a very reliable worker if I was going to be out at all hours doing the band thing. They only hired me because they just really needed that extra pair of hands.

In retrospect I see all of this as having been one of the most fortuitous events of my life. Alan and Harrison are still two of my best friends and have been like additional fathers to me--although maybe big brothers would be more like it.

What I remember most about my time at Harrison's shop is the relationships with the other people. There were between 6 and 9 of us while I worked there ('92-'98), and while not all of the personalities meshed, we did manage to get along reasonably well and to produce some of the finest woodworking I've seen.

Sometimes there was a quasi-monastic aspect to the place, when everyone was at his bench doing handwork and there was no music or machine work. On the other hand, we could act like a bunch of total nitwits at times as well, and I have a slew of funny and extremely fond memories of my time there.

Harrison moved his shop a couple of years ago, and I started mine right around the corner. So I still see everyone there a few times a week. I wish everyone could have some kind of work experience like that, where they're making something tangible with trustworthy, kind people.

It was a big mix of things. He remains one of my very closest friends, and as my shop is just a few blocks from his, I see him often. As much as anything, he was a kind of second father/big brother to me. Most of what I gained in my time with him was personal, although I don?t mean to down-play the importance of learning my trade.

He?s a weird teacher. He is so much more visual than verbal, so for example, when asked how he carves ball-and-claw feet, he once answered, ?Well, I just take away everything that doesn?t look like a ball or a claw.? All of us who know him well enjoy razzing him about this tendency of his.

The Festool TS 75 would be worth twice its price for what I do. I use it constantly for rough sizing sheet goods before I cut them to their final size on the tablesaw. It's so much easier and safer that way. If I didn't work alone, I'm not sure I'd need it since there would be someone around to help me move full sheets around. As it is, it's an incredibly useful tool. I've used it to crosscut 12/4 maple (in two cuts), to crosscut table leaves, and all sorts of other things.

One of the things I find amazing about the TS 75 is that it cuts bevels so accurately. Somehow they engineered it so that when it tilts over, it still cuts exactly along the guide rail's line. Because of that it can be used to cut long mitered parts quite accurately.

I also have the Festool Domino which I find indispensable in my case work. Once I've bored the holes for the domino I find that my cases go together pretty much like legos. The Domino, however, isn't as precisely engineered as it could be. There's something slightly wonky about guidelines indicating center on the cutter; I haven't quite put my finger on it yet. In any event, I use it all the time and it's a big time saver. I had hoped that it would eliminate the need for a mortiser, and so far it has. I think, though, that it would be very hard to do the large mortises necessary for, say a bed without a mortiser.
In general, my philosophy is "Cry once when you buy a tool instead of crying the thousands of times you actually have to use it." This is not an original idea of mine--I read something similar in an online forum somewhere, and I found that it rang true.

There's really only one other treasure, a pattern maker's combination square. We used to consider it the square of reference at Harrison's shop, and for a long time while I was doing work besides cabinetmaking, my friend Reid was in possession of it. He was displeased when I reclaimed it. I suppose it's comparable to a new, top-of-the-line Starrett.

I use my Lie-Nielsen low-angle block plane a lot. It's the only very nice plane I have, and it was well worth the initial investment. I'm considering buying their #4 to replace the #4 Record I've always been lukewarm about.

I wish I had more nice stuff, but that's always a work in progress.

Only the basic ways of thinking about case building transferred to that piece I built on the deck, specifically the marking system I use to keep parts straight. Everything else was improvised. Honestly, that wasn't very enjoyable, and I wasn't very pleased with the results. Plus it was really cold!

If one had no choice but to have a knockdown shop in the back yard, my best advice would be to build a flat reference surface. A solid torsion box does the trick. Fine Woodworking online has articles about how to do it. Without a flat surface, building square cases is nearly impossible.

Heck no!!! Sometimes my wife and I dream big...what can I say? I do want to mock that up in SketchUp now that I'm proficient. We were thinking that if we ever built that it would become our main living room. The best part would be that the cats wouldn't be invited!

I once made a blanket chest for my niece, which has a hidden compartment that houses a key. I kept the lock. I always thought it would be fun to send her on a scavenger hunt later in her life where she?d have to decipher clues. The key?s location would be one of the final clues, and the lock would secure some kind of treasure. Anyhow, that was my intention when I made the chest.

A good friend of mine has a beautiful William and Mary highboy with a hidden map drawer. The crown molding along the front of the piece is actually the drawer face. I love that!

That?s actually a faux finish simulating malachite. A good friend of mine is an expert faux finisher and gilder, and she walked me through that process. It was not difficult although it was fairly involved. One drags a piece of leather through the dark paint to create those swirls. People either love or hate that chest. I admit that it is a bit much.

That?d probably be the serpentine top Federal Pembroke table.

I think that the time savings after the first instance of any multiple is just what comes naturally. Making the first element involves a lot of thinking, checking, double-checking, and correcting. Usually the subsequent parts become second nature to crank out. The cupolas were an extreme example. I?d never made anything like those before, so the first one took a lot longer while I figured out what in the heck I was doing.

I had become very bored at the large architectural millwork shop at which I was working in ?06 and ?07. That business was closely tied to the mortgage market, and the big developers who ordered custom goods from the shop were some of the first to take the sub-prime nosedive.

A lot of those big developers work on very flimsy financing, as it turns out. The net effect for me at that shop was that there was literally no work to do. For a variety of reasons too boring to detail here, the company not only remained in business, but it also didn?t lay anyone off or even reduce hours. Many people I worked with considered it a great arrangement, but I can?t imagine anything worse than clocking in at 7:30, standing around all day, then clocking out at 5:00.

At first I started taking work on the side, and when that went well, I finally jumped ship. I suppose?per your question?that a certain amount of courage was involved, but mostly I am motivated by the avoidance of boredom.

The biggest surprise of owning my own business is the intensity of the psychology of pricing. I?ve been surprised when very wealthy clients have balked at what I consider very fair prices. I?ve bitten my nails thinking I?d bid too high on something, not heard from the client for a month, and then gotten the work after all. It drives me crazy, and I think it probably drives my wife crazy hearing about it all the time. I?ve gotten jobs and later learned that my bid was twice that of the next guy, and I?ve lost bids to lower bidders. It doesn?t seem to make any sense.

Hands down, the hardest part of this is the worry over whether or not new work will be coming along.

There have been many other lessons along the way, most of which boil down to the importance of sitting down and rationally considering problems before taking action. Doing so has been especially helpful in deciding which equipment purchases to make. I?d love to call Lee Valley and tell them to send me one of everything, but obviously if I did that the only business I?d be able to operate is a giant yard sale!

Not really. But only because I?ve been thinking about doing this for so long! It?s not that there haven?t been challenges, it?s just that I had already had the opportunity to think through the big issues.

I rent a 1,200 sq. ft. space which is about right for a one-man shop, so that was a good decision. I shopped around until I found a good combination of low rent and good location. I only buy tools and machines as I need them for projects, and I do my best to build equipment costs into bids. I have bought a mix of top-of-the-line new equipment (Laguna, Festool) and solid old equipment (a jointer from 1910, a late 80?s Delta table saw). I haven?t sprung for central dust collection yet which has its upside (saved money) and downside (lots of dust)!

So far, so good. There?s nothing I?ve done that feels like a big mistake just yet. Give me some time, and we?ll see what I can goof up!

Over the past five years or so, our state capitol has undergone an amazing renovation and expansion. In the new area, which is underground, there are two gallery spaces, each roughly 1,600 square feet. There was a bit of a rush to finish the construction for the big Jamestown 400 year celebration and the visit of Queen Elizabeth.

During that rush, there was little time for curatorial decision making in the gallery spaces. Basically, the decision makers in charge are getting to that now, and I?ve designed?and will soon start fabricating?the museum case pieces which will begin to unify the aesthetic of the galleries. They?re simple, veneered cases with acrylic vitrines and will house art objects and architectural models. There is also one massive piece (roughly 8? wide and 12? tall) that will display four flags on flagpoles.

Once I?ve made final drawings in SketchUp, I?ll cut pieces to rough size, edgeband the top edges, veneer the backs with poplar, veneer the fronts with anigre, miter the outside edges, and assemble the cases with band clamps and glue.

Truncated pyramids will sit inside the cases, and vitrines will fit precisely between the inside case edges and the outside edges of the pyramids. Some cases (like the one displaying a large marble bust) will require additional structure inside to accommodate the objects. That?s the basic idea.

I'm not sure I've been completely fair about this, but here is the fundamental problem I?ve noticed: Many of these programs teach people how to do top-notch work, but at a snail?s pace. I remember a job applicant who had just finished at North Bennett coming to Harrison?s shop. He showed us a photograph of a gorgeous Federal demilune table with all manner of amazing veneers and stringing. So far, so good. But when Harrison asked him how long it took him to make it, he replied, ?Six months.? At $50/hour, six months of shop time is in the $50,000 range, which nobody gets for an occasional table.

In my view, places like North Bennett would be optimal for independently wealthy people or retirees who want to become highly-skilled amateur woodworkers. I?m not sure it?s the place to go if the goal is starting one?s own woodworking business. Once again, I?m not sure this is entirely fair, and I would hope that the people at North Bennett would be prepared to answer this line of questioning candidly.

Sometimes people who go through fine woodworking programs wind up with a smug attitude about the superiority of their craftsmanship. I?ve seen this several times. Here in Richmond we have a highly ranked art school at VCU. I took a woodworking class in the Crafts Department, and the TAs there were just insufferable! I quickly found that I knew more about actually making furniture after my few months working for Harrison than they seemed to have accumulated up to that point in their lives. I sincerely doubt that any of those guys have successfully run their own shops. Successfully running a shop involves much more than meticulous craftsmanship.

I did work with two graduates of a highly regarded woodworking program at Rockingham Community College in North Carolina. Those guys came out of that program knowing how to work in real-world situations, and their level of craftsmanship was very high.

All of that having been said, if I had to advise graduates of woodworking programs as to how to proceed, I?d say "find a successful high-end furniture maker wherever you live or want to live, and if you have a halfway decent feeling about him or her personally, beg for an apprenticeship." If the answer is ?no?, offer to work for minimum wage. If the answer is still ?no?, offer to cover the workmen?s comp costs he encounters upon hiring you.

Here?s the thing, though: This is what I would advise someone to do BEFORE going to a fancy and expensive woodworking program!