Camellia oil is a pleasant, easy to use rust inhibitor for tools. This oiler makes it quick and neat to apply.

The project starts with squared-up blocks, each 2 1/4″ x 2 1/4″ on the end grain. One is 3″ long, the other 1 1/4″ long. I used poplar since I had some on hand and it is not so dense as to make the boring and shaping too tedious. A 1 3/4″ Forstner bit in a drill press is used to bore a 2″ deep hole, centered on the end grain, in the larger block. This is a lot to ask of a Forstner bit so much of the waste is best removed beforehand with multiple 1/4″ holes. For safety when using the Forstner, I immobilized the workpiece with clamped blocks on all sides. I never fully retract the bit and reenter the hole with the bit spinning; it could catch the edge of the hole and violently throw the workpiece.

Similarly, a 1 7/8″ diameter hole, 7/8″ deep, centered on the end grain, is bored in the smaller block. By sawing, planing, rasping, and sanding the larger block is formed into a cylinder with a wall thickness of about 1/4″. Turners could accomplish these steps on the lathe and may wish to use denser exotic woods.

Next, a heavy coat of epoxy is applied to the bottom and inner walls of the holes in each piece and to the end grain surface surrounding the rim of each hole. This prevents oil from bleeding through the wood. After the epoxy has dried, the area around the rim of each hole is flattened with sandpaper which gives it a non-sticky, matte finish. The outer parts of each piece, where there is no epoxy, are finished with two coats of varnish.

For the oil wick, cotton T-shirt cloth is tightly rolled and bound with string. The bundle is about 2 ½” long, to project about ½” beyond the rim of the cup, while its diameter fits snugly.

The cotton is generously soaked with Camellia oil, repeating as the oil slowly permeates the bundle. The oiler is stored upside down with the projecting cotton fitting into the hole in the smaller block, with clearance around the sides and below. The cotton acts as a substantial reservoir for oil which is replenished as needed. A light swipe of the oiler over tool steel surfaces will leave a thin coating of the Camellia oil. The design allows one-handed use.

For general oiler construction and dimensions, I used information in Toshio Odate’s superb book, Japanese Woodworking Tools: Their Tradition, Spirit, and Use, which describes a traditional Japanese oiler made from a section of bamboo. The general idea of an oiler stored upside down in a holder is borrowed from an oiler made many years ago by a woodworker.

This oiler has passed the test of practical use in my shop: it’s simple and it works. I hope you find it useful.

ADDENDUM: Here are a few afterthought improvements after using the oiler for some years.

I now line the oiler with rolled felt from a craft supply store instead of cloth. This makes the oiler neater in use.

If I had to make this again, I would adjust the diameters of the holes in the top and bottom sections. The top section hole should be 1/4″ smaller (not 1/8″, as above) than the bottom section hole. This would make it easier to plant the top section into the bottom without catching the edge of the liner on the rim of the hole in the bottom section. You can adjust the dimensions of the block and wall thickness of the top section (make it a bit thicker) accordingly, depending on the wood available to you. Remember that you can, of course, always glue up stock if thick stock is not available.

An extremely accurate granite surface plate might seem superfluous in a woodworking shop but I find my 9″ x 12″ x 2″ 30 pound rock to be very handy. It is simply a smooth and very flat slab of black granite, with a phenomenal surface tolerance, even on this economy model, of 0.0001 inch, which is about 2.5 microns.

Its main use in my shop is to accurately flatten other tools, such as plane soles. I use aluminum oxide or silicon carbide abrasive paper adhered to the plate with only water, or just hand held or taped in place for working on small tools. I can flatten the sole of a 9″ smoothing plane, especially easily if it is a bronze plane, or even somewhat larger planes, though certainly not a 22″ jointer.

Used with a feeler gauge, it serves as a reference to verify the accuracy of layout tools, such as straightedges, and any other tool that is supposed to have a straight/flat surface. For those who like sandpaper sharpening, the granite plate can be used as a base for the abrasive paper when extreme accuracy may be desirable, such as when flattening the back of a new blade.

I like knowing that there are a few dependable references in the shop – the granite plate, a Starrett straightedge and square – with which to vet other tools. They’re like the Constitution of the shop and the woodworker is the Supreme Court. However, I then have only myself to blame for the inaccuracies in my work!

I bought my granite plate at a local industrial supply house for about $35. Woodcraft, Japan Woodworker, and Enco have good buys on them. A 12″ x 18″ x 3″ or a 9′ x 24″ x 3″ plate may be more useful but the weight goes way up to about 85 pounds. Obtaining your plate locally will save a lot of money on shipping.

Some readers of this blog may be relatively new to woodworking, are thinking of getting started in the craft, or perhaps are seasoned craftsmen temporarily stalled in their work. In particular, I have in mind those people who have a nagging urge to create something but have not gotten the ball rolling quite yet. One or another thing gets in the way (I understand!), yet there is a real sense that pursuing this wonderful art would bring enjoyment and fulfillment. You hear the promise of meaningfulness.

Some of the most common impediments thwarting otherwise eager woodworkers are the complexity of what seems an arcane science, aiming for perfection, and the feeling that the work is not important, especially if grandeur is lacking. Yet all these are surmountable. 

Recently, I had the pleasure to talk and share ideas with many woodworkers, some trying to establish traction in their woodworking. About the same time, a relative had one of those unforseen medical experiences that remind us all that life is fragile and there are no guarantees. From this springs my simple suggestion: get the wood, get the tools, and build it. Just build it! Build it so it has meaning for you. Drop me a comment or email if I can take a minute to help clear the way for you.

It’s only the wood that grows on trees. Happy woodworking.

The handles on most clamps are round in cross section and quite smooth. Shiny things may sell well, but when it comes time to bear down on clamp screws, slippery handles make it difficult to transmit strength. Wrapping the handles with cloth friction tape is an easy and effective solution.

The tape is made of cotton cloth impregnated with butyl rubber making it tacky on both sides, though it does not tend to leave adhesive residue on tools or hands. It is quick work to wrap the handles in a simple spiral pattern as the tape adheres to itself and to the handle. The enhanced grip will make you feel like you’re Popeye after he downs a can of spinach. (For younger readers, that means like a ball player on ‘roids.)

Some handles are impractical or unnecessary to wrap, such as those on my Jet parallel bar clamps. When I want to torque up those, I use rubber palm gloves to make the job faster and easier. These gloves are also a big help when pulling horizontally stored boards at the wood dealer.

I bought the friction tape, $2.50 for a 30 foot roll, and the gloves, about $7.50, at my local Ace Hardware, though both are widely available.

I make ‘em. You make ‘em. Some people say we don’t learn much unless we make mistakes. Whether thus a necessary evil or simply an omnipresent nuisance, I feel mistakes do not get enough attention. We generally try to correct and forget them. Here I would like to give them some thought. After all, it surely won’t be long before I’m again dealing with a live one on the line.

So how do they happen? Sometimes it is simply having the wrong plan for the intended result. A poorly designed joint, though accurately cut, produces a weak structure. In making a bent lamination, maybe the plies are too thick, the wrong type of glue is applied, and the resulting curved rail is not what you had hoped for. Study and practice.

Sometimes it’s just a slip up. Perhaps I lost concentration and sawed past an end line despite obviously being fully capable of stopping at the correct spot. Pay attention and be patient.

There is, however, a sneakier type of mistake that accounts for my most frustrating experiences in the shop. These develop from a subtle loss of control of the process, an insidious evolution.

For example, I’m planing a surface and gradually feel slightly more resistance in the cut signaling early dullness of the blade. The task is almost done but I wonder a little too long if I can get by without resharpening, then hit a grain reversal, and #*@&!, a tearout. I plane further to erase the tearout, then plane surrounding areas to compensate, and now I’ve gone a bit too far and lost an accurate fit for this piece, which mates with another part, which houses another assembly, and so forth. I am no longer working in peace.

What happened? A barrier developed between intention and execution. There was a loss of the working rhythm and flow that is so important to success. When a craftsman senses that subtle break in rhythm, a true mistake may be around the corner.

However, the first little error is usually not as important as it may first seem. (“Put the ax down and move away from the bench.”) For example, maybe that tearout is in a place where it will be unnoticed and is best left alone. I must remind myself to stop and think before engineering a correction. It is usually the loss of flow, less than the error itself, that raises the unnerving feeling. Then I know it is time to step back, look at the big picture, refocus, then get back in the game. This approach should prevent a major Mistake.

I believe this is more of an issue with one of a kind projects or innovative designs, especially when using unfamiliar or innovative techniques. Since you’ve not been down the road before, you’re skeptical of the map to success.

It is not easy to craft a project that turns out to fulfill your hope. The creative vision must be carried through with a controlled flow of work that takes place in many interdependent steps. (By the way, don’t fall prey to “perfection”, discussed in an earlier post.)

One thing is for sure, when the work is flowing, you know it. Life is good in the shop and real mistakes seem to be miles away. Be careful, but enjoy the ride. 

Happy woodworking!

It is almost impossible to do good woodworking if the work piece is not properly held. Securing partly assembled work poses more challenges; drawers are a good example. After the drawer is glued up but before the bottom is installed, the joints must be cleaned up and the assembly incrementally fitted to its opening in the case.

Some drawers can be maneuvered into some workbench front vises, perhaps gaining additional support with a board. However, I find it is awkward to get the drawer in and out of the vise. Furthermore, to grip the back piece in the vise, as when planing the sides toward the rear of the drawer, a shim is required since the back is shorter than the front

I use the drawer board pictured here, hardly original, made in a few minutes. The notches allow the drawer to slip in and rest on its front, back, or side with nearly 100% support of the surface being planed. The leading face of the drawer butts against the stop while the front edge of the bench provides lateral control. The work is repositioned quickly and easily, an important feature for me. A drawer board without notches would catch the drawer on a trailing surface which doesn’t give me a good feel for planing, and the front and back are not afforded the same length of support as the sides.

If I had a bigger piece of MDF handy, I might have made the board wide enough to be clamped at the back of the bench, but the metal bench dogs adequately hold this version. In this situation, I wish I had a Bob Lang style bench with a space in the middle of the top.

By the way, planing a drawer to fit the case rates, for me, as one of the fine quality experiences in woodworking. A simple jig like this makes the work even more of a pleasure.

I like Einstein’s saying, “Everything should be made as simple as possible, but no simpler.”

I spent an enjoyable few hours last week at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. Viewing thousands of years of exciting art is a great way for a woodworker, or any creative person, to exercise and sharpen the aesthetic sense. I imagine at least one or two motifs drifted into my brain, unbeknownst to me, as silent seeds to later germinate into a project idea. A bargain for a bit of lost shop time.

Though I do not make period furniture, it was inspiring to behold pieces by Seymour, Townsend, and their contemporaries. From the other side of the world, the MFA has a fabulous collection of old Chinese furniture, displayed in a beautiful, peaceful setting that is hard to leave. Woodworkers will particularly enjoy the permanent “Please Be Seated” program which consists of chairs and benches by modern masters distributed throughout the museum on which visitors are welcome to park their carcasses. Go ahead, have a seat on a Sam Maloof bench!

I could not avoid some perplexity as I stood in the 19^th – 20^th century American section where a Maloof chair and a Wendell Castle music stand sit peacefully below a Jackson Pollock piece of art hanging on the wall, his “Number 10, 1949“. Well, I suppose I should not criticize what I don’t understand, but I do know what I like. I guess if the chair had only three legs, rendering it functionally useless, and it made you wince, then it would be far more valuable as art. I don’t know, maybe I’m too hung up on beauty. I’m glad I’m a woodworker.

Visual high art often seems excessively marketed, valued, and analyzed. Contemporary fine woodworking, on the other hand, seems to suffer from a general lack of understanding and appreciation by a large portion of society, and is consequently usually undervalued.

There, I’ve done it, opened a whole can of worms.

In general, I have nothing against oxygen; I use it on a regular basis. I just do not like its predilection to hook up with the iron in my tools. Like all tool folk, I hate rust. Hoping to prevent this unholy molecular union, I’ve tried many methods and products over the years. Here are the proven performers: three non-toxic, virtually problem-free products.

Camellia oil. This gets wiped onto all my hand edge tools and some steel measuring tools with either an oily rag or an oil rub, a wad of soaked felt in a wooden cup. This very light oil has a pleasant fragrance, and only a minimal film is required to prevent rust. I’ve never had any problems with the oil interfering with gluing or finishing since I use a quick cleaning wipe on edge tools before putting them to wood. Freshly sharpened tools get oiled promptly after the water is wiped off, but I make sure oil stays away from my Shapton stones. One 8 ounce bottle lasts a few years for me.

Corrosion X. I use this on cast iron machinery surfaces and for other power tool applications. I much prefer it to the several other products I’ve tried, including Boeshield and Top-Cote. I wipe it on and rub it in infrequently, when I think of it, perhaps every few months. The manufacturer claims Corrosion X is non-toxic, non-carcinogenic, nonflammable (in the pump spray form), has no silicon, and has only 8.6% VOC. I find it has only a mild odor.

Bull Frog Vapor Corrosion Inhibitor. This is a yellow foam pad, about 10 inches square, containing the non-toxic, odorless VCI chemical which settles on metal in an invisible layer only a few molecules thick. The pad is rated to protect 50 cubic feet of enclosed space. I cut it into several proportionate size pieces to protect the contents of various tool cabinets and boxes. This is cheaper than buying smaller strips. It lasts at least one year and works well without a hint of problems.

Here in the Northeast US summers can get very humid. An electric dehumidifier in the shop keeps humidity moderated for the sake of my tools as well as the wood.

This multi-pronged approach has kept rust at bay in my shop. I hope it helps in yours. Go Rust Busters!