Eccentric Toolworks

The first day at a new job can be a little stressful, you know. New guys stick out like sore thumbs. They just have that look about them–they’re a little too eager, a little too clean somehow, a little too crisp and fresh looking. And they nearly always pay too close attention to everything, because they don’t yet know what to pay attention to.

So the other day was my first day on the job making saws full time.

Not exactly a new job, and yet when I showed up for work that day (i.e., went downstairs to the shop!) things definitely felt a little different. Hmmmm. At first I thought it might be the intense quiet the shop sometimes has before I start working, before the sounds of metal and wood being shaved away fills my ears.

But no. That wasn’t it. Hmmm. Well maybe it was the light. The light coming in through the block windows in the morning sometimes imparts an improbably lyrical quality to the cluttered and messy benches. And that morning the benches were quite … lyrical.

But nope, that wasn’t it either. I walked over and picked up a half finished brass back for a dovetail saw I was working on and just kind of weighed it in my hand. It was right at that stage where the brass really starts coming to life, where all roughness is filed away and nice bold chamfers are filed in. I love that stage. It’s like watching a tiny sunrise. Hmmm. My thoughts wandered.

What had changed was me. Working for myself in my shop was something I had wanted to do for a long time, and now here I was. In a sense I was the new guy at work again, and yet I was the old guy too. OK, I was the only guy! It made for some boring gossip at the water cooler, let me tell you. (“Hey, did you hear about Andrew?”) But there in the shop that morning was that moment of release when something you have worked toward for a long time is finally at hand. Moments like that often bring with them the feeling of, “Well what do I do now?”

So do you know what I did? I walked back over, weighed that brass back in my hand again, and lost myself in the rhythmic, solitary work of the artisan saw maker. Life just couldn’t be better.

“Convictions are more dangerous than lies.”–Friedrich Nietzsche

I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call it divisive, but too embellishment is a topic that tends to occasion some strong opinions. The might seem odd, but we’re not just talking about surface decoration–we’re talking about how each of us defines a fine tool. Some people have a very singular definition of what constitutes a fine tool. It usually goes something like, “Tools are tools, and serious tools are serious–give me function and traditional details.” It’s not an uncommon attitude, as here in the states, and in Great Britain, our tool making traditions do not involve much embellishment–embellishment is more of a European feature.

My own definition of a fine tool is more fluid than it is singular–in fact I don’t really have a fixed definition. Nothing prescriptive anyway. I rather like to think there is room for creativity, and for additional layers of craftsmanship. It’s not as though there is a fixed amount of care than can go into a tool, and that embellishment must necessarily detract from a tool’s function. And yet it’s not uncommon to encounter attitudes that imply exactly that, that an embellished tool is perhaps not as serious as a tool that sticks to the old formulas, that embellishment necessarily occurs at the expense of function. Thoughts like that can be very ingrained, and perhaps that very fact is why an attitude can persist that makes no real sense once you think about it. Why would embellishment necessarily take away from function? I myself am obsessed with function.

Perhaps you could say that function getting shortchanged is simply what tends to happen. I can’t argue with something like that–maybe it is true, maybe it isn’t. I really don’t know. I can’t argue for all embellished tools from all time. I merely want to speak for my own tools, and to point out that embellished tools are no more identical in their nature than are unembellished tools. In my estimation a tool needs to be judged on its individual merits. Generalizations are rarely actually true, and yet they have a particular allure. Perhaps they reflect our desire that the truth be simpler than it is.

If we value craftsmanship in our tools, then surely there is room to appreciate additional layers of craftsmanship. That’s what embellished tools are to me, additional layers of care and thought built right into the tool. It’s not about glitz–it’s about harmony and satisfaction in one’s work. I love my work. I think we work more carefully with fine tools–I hope in some small way that my work enhances the work of those who own my tools.

So what is a fine tool? It really comes down to a matter of taste and opinion. It’s something everyone must decide for him or herself. No doubt function is foremost–how could it not be? It’s a tool! But beyond that what we have to guide is not nearly so concrete. Maybe that is a little unsettling. Or maybe it is a little exciting. Or maybe it is a little bit of both.