Re-Inventing the Wheel

This video is ten years old. It has 13 million views.

That makes me smile. I’ve embedded all sorts of videos in my essays over the years. They mostly disappear down the GrueTube stormdrain after a few years. I’m often going back and looking for different versions of musical stuff, for instance, because so much stuff gets pulled. Websites come and go a lot, too. Mostly go, these days. Have you ever clicked on the links in an older website’s blogroll? Most of the links are dead as disco, but nobody notices.

There’s a lot of good woodworking on display in the video. Making a spoked wood wheel is difficult. It’s easy to see why many ancient cultures, including some who were fairly sophisticated, never invented the wheel. Woodworking and metalworking like you see in the video would be well beyond the technical bounds of many societies. More usually, they did have wheels, but didn’t use them for transportation. It’s a lot easier to make slaves carry stuff than making wheels for carts.

The 13 million views mean something. Those 13 million viewers might only contain a cadre of a few dozen people who need to learn how to build a wheel like that one. The rest are just interested in seeing someone with the physical and mental skills to produce one in action. I know I was.

Desperate Endstage Monomaniac Spanish Shaker Goodness

Well, now. Dude’s hardcore.

I make furniture, of course, but I never have any sort of competitive feeling when I watch videos by other makers. I either find them interesting or infuriating, but the only way to infuriate me is to do worse work than mine, not better, and so waste my time. I can make furniture faster than anyone that can make it better, and I can make it better than anyone that can make it faster. Those are the damp, moldy laurels I rest on.

This video is plenty fascinating to me though. Guy’s working in Spain, I guess, since the video and website is in Spanish, but if my Spanish still works, he’s either from Austria, Holland, South African or Nigeria, or all of them. He’s making a very American, Shaker design, usually referred to as a “harvest table.” It’s cherry. I understand everything he’s doing, and I could be a docent for the whole thing, but that would ruin the aspect of this video that struck me as borderline sublime. No one talks. There’s no goddamn music. The light in that room is remarkable. I have seen a kajillion videos of people making things at this point, and this one has to be the ne plus ultra. No one else has the nerve to shut the hell up and make something with a camera pointed at them.

Un Trabajo Feliz, indeed. 

If You Make Things, You Are My Brother. Or Sister. My Chinese Brother Or Sister, Apparently

I scour the Intertunnel looking for videos of craftsmen of any sort that I can feature on this blog. I make furniture. But you should understand: I don’t LOVINGLY CRAFT anything.

That term is a running, inside joke between my wife and me. It’s shorthand for someone doing handwork as slow as possible, in order that the (sometimes imaginary) customer can tell all their friends they bought something that’s LOVINGLY CRAFTED. Most American craftsman featured on the Intertunnel are running little personality cults. They don’t make enough stuff to reach a threshold I keep in my head to be called a true maker of things. They are  performance artists; or wish they were, anyway. They LOVINGLY CRAFT.

As I said, I don’t LOVINGLY CRAFT anything. I make things with all the intelligence and effort I can bring to bear, as fast as I can, and sell it for as little as I think is necessary and as much as I can get at the same time. Finding that financial fulcrum is deuced difficult. If you charge too little you starve. Conversely, if you charge too much, you starve.

Why do I have to travel the Intertunnel to China to find people like me? These people are exactly like me. They are clean. They are “well-turned-out.” They are not slovenly in their appearance or demeanor. They are all sober. Believe me, I’ve managed hundreds of people at a time. I can tell at a hundred yards if you’re lit. They smile at work. They work really, really hard, and someone else ends up with almost all the money, but they make enough to keep body and soul together. I noticed, in the background, a young woman returning to work from outside, and she appears to be holding a better phone than I possess. There is a child hanging around the workshop. My workshop often has one of those.

That workshop has nothing that I don’t understand going on it it. It’s a very safe place to work, although the State of California would tell you that every single thing in it is known to give you cancer. But they say that about a glass of tapwater. The finish that the woman’s applying is shellac, which you can eat after is dries, and the glue pot is filled with hide glue, which is just horses that came in last, and most of the tools make wood shavings, not sawdust, and the sanding is done by hand, so the sawdust isn’t copious or particularly dangerous. No one in the video is missing a digit, or has any visible scars from working with their hands all day. They all have fans pointed at them, but that’s no doubt because it’s too warm for comfort wherever they are. That place is not full of toxic fumes. You’d pay money to smell the smells in there. Shellac and hide glue and wood shavings smell wonderful. I hear laughter in there, and people smile when a camera is pointed at them. It’s a sheepish smile I understand. They are not used to people being interested in their mundane life. No one is wearing safety glasses or ear protection, and no one needs them, either.

No one is LOVINGLY CRAFTING anything in the video, although the violins they make will be sold for huge money in Europe, and the customers will be told that their violins were… LOVINGLY CRAFTED. But then again, no one I’ve seen in five thousand LOVINGLY CRAFTED videos have one-tenth the hand skills I see demonstrated by everyone in the video. It’s important work to them, so they do it to the best of their ability. People that do things over and over get really good at them. I wish them all well — and hope on my best day, I’m as good as they are on their worst.

Wood. Working

I worked in an old-fashioned factory when I was younger. Timeclock. Bricks. Union. Job descriptions with labor grades that decided your hourly wage. I was eventually a labor grade eleven. There was only one labor grade higher than that: Toolmaker. That used to be a common pecking order. A person that can make things with tools is valuable. A person that can make tools is invaluable.

The tool handle he’s making at the end is for something usually called a “slick,” a big chisel common in post-and-beam construction.

Tag: woodworking

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