Romantic Side of Woodworking

Woodworking is all about moving a project along, wrapping up the final details and putting that newly finished project in place to be used, right? No need to think of the past. No need to consider the smaller things along the way. No need to get nostalgic about any part of the process, right?

In a strict sense, there’s no true need for any of these aspects to be discussed in woodworking circles. But on the other hand, we’re not computers or robots, crunching numbers and following commands until we reach our end goal of producing that new kitchen table or bookcase. Humans can reason and our memories are stronger than we think, even if we can’t remember what we had for breakfast today.

Looking into the past, every day

But there are times when I’m working that I pause and think of something that happened decades ago, while I was learning how to work wood. Or maybe I pick up my grandfather’s old hand plane and picture him gripping the same tool to use it on one of the many projects he completed almost a century ago.

Then again, it might not have anything to do with the distant past and the folks who taught me the craft of woodworking. It could be just the idle thought of how it’s hard to finish the current project in its entirety, before having the strong urge to begin the next one. I’m sure I’m not the only person who has that problem. Or possibly it’s when you come across a new dish, jar or small box at home, and immediately reach for it so you can put it to work in the shop. There are always tiny shop items to be stored, so you better be prepared, right? Or maybe it’s the silly realization that an offcut looks strangely like Mickey Mouse.

There may not be much to say about offcuts resembling cartoon characters, but there are a lot of other philosophical things that can be considered as we either spend time in the shop, or even just wish we were spending time in the shop. We all have our projects to focus on while working, but it’s the other shop things we think about that fascinate me. The romantic side of woodworking, I guess.

Past columns

In past columns, I’ve talked about my father, who encouraged me to get into woodworking. He also genetically passed down his accountant tendencies, which cause me to overthink any tool purchase I make. “But is there value here?” is what I find myself wondering, while standing in the tool aisle of the local tool retailer. His painful accounting accuracy and perfection genes have also caused me to overthink far too many joints, methods and installations. It almost gets tiresome, but I do often think of my dad while building.

I’ve also written about my grandfather, who built many houses and cottages in the Lake of Bays area in Ontario. I never got to see him work, though I’ve been inside a few of the homes he built. In fact, one home I visited was where he fell from the unfinished roof into the basement, breaking his back on impact. Thankfully, he lived to tell the tale, and eventually continued to build once he recovered from the fall. I think of him from time to time, as I try to be as safe as reasonably possible while I work.

When you think about it, there are a lot of stories and emotions wrapped up in woodworking. Even if you don’t have a father who was a bit too careful with his wallet or a grandfather who nearly lost his life while building, you must have your own philosophical thoughts about this otherwise very factual and ordered craft.

I'm listening

If you’d like to share your thoughts, I’d love to hear them. I’m going to start sharing some stories from our readers about the less ordered side of woodworking. The romantic side of woodworking is something we don’t spend a lot of time talking about, but I’d like to change that. Email me your stories and I’ll see about publishing them. Please send along any photos, too. The likely location will be in our digital email offerings, but wherever we go with this, I’m looking forward to hearing your stories about the romantic side of woodworking.