James Watriss, a regular at Woodcentral, posted this a few days ago (on Woodcentral) and it is reposted here with his permission:

Almost exactly 4 years ago I graduated Tufts University, having little or no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do with an English degree. I finished my first workshop at North Bennet Street School, namely the Fundamentals of fine woodworking; Sharpening, basic joinery, etc. I spent the next year and a half cleaning out and setting up “shop” in my apartment’s basement, with the blessings of my truly wonderful landlords. I played a lot with dovetails, and built a pair of stacking chests of drawers modeled roughly after a set of campaign chests I saw in a Taunton book.

A year and a half ago I took my second workshop at NBSS with the intent of getting a recommendation, which happened almost immediately, and in February of 2005, I started the full time program in cabinet/furniture. I finished up in February, and graduated 2 weeks ago.

This past Christmas vacation, I was going through my basement, trying to re-arrange things with the intent of setting up a renewed shop down there, since I really hadn’t used the space much since I started at school. It’s amazing going through old time capsules like that. It’s amazing how many small scraps I had saved, neatly stickered on strips of corrugated cardboard. Wood I’d forgotten I had. Tools I’d forgotten existed, and reasons for saving them that I’m still unclear on.

Moving out of NBSS was a similar experience. I unearthed a small bundle of forgotten transitional planes. I think I remember why I thought they were cool, but I’m still unsure if the effort required was really worth it. I neatly boxed up the few wooden tools I’ve made over the past 2 years; a spokeshave, a few planes, and 2 mallets. Other old tools I’d forgotten (my Veritas skew chisels, for instance, some old chisels that never really flattened out…) and a small horde of various sharpening stones emerged, evidence of my continuing pursuit of the best way to sharpen things. Not to mention the mountain of wood.

I’ve been subletting a chunk of a space in a local building, and I’m planning on moving into my own space sometime very soon, right down the hall. Soon I can embark on some new projects, and learn all about how to sell myself, and my work… which is a whole new ball of wax. I’ll say this about North Bennet. I’m absolutely sure of my skill as a woodworker. But piles of dovetails and pictures of shiny work just can’t teach you how not to feel like a used car salesman when you’re trying to talk someone out of a really serious sum of money.

It’s hard to believe so much has happened in 4 years. It’s really remarkable.

I’ve spent varying amounts of time in here. Sometimes it was very enlightening. Other times, it was the latest thread on what the best low-angle plane is, and why. But I digress…

I feel like I have to say something to new woodworkers, because I’m very aware that there are a lot of them out there. So here goes…

-First and foremost. Beware this place, and beware the sales pitches that have been plaguing new woodworking tool shops. The internet can hold a vast pile of useful information. It can also act as a neatly packaged co-dependent for people who are trying to justify the latest tool purchase. A bench doesn’t have to be much more than a few stout planks and a couple of sawhorses.

Tool worship doesn’t always translate into good work. Jim Krenov understood that very well. But his planes still sell for huge sums of money. Tools don’t have to be pretty. They have to be sharp, and they have to be good enough to help you make pretty things.

A $300 Lie-Nielsen #4 is a beauty to behold, and I can say they work amazingly well. But my old sweethearts do too. And old sweetheart Stanley planes can be had for $40 on the ‘bay. Try to see the potential for good work that the tool represents, and don’t worry about the shiny, pretty, workmanship, etc sales pitches. You’re buying a tool, not investing in a collectible. (Well, some of us are buying a tool, anyway.)

-Don’t blame your tools. Old master craftsmen did amazing work with old wooden tools that could warp, or wear in unexpected ways. And with materials that also could react in unexpected ways.

Try this one. Don’t blame. Don’t worry, either. Learn all you can from every experience, and see things for what they are. If you’re a novice, and you do novice work, that’s fantastic. Do a little better next time, learn from everything and anything. Keep your eyes open. Don’t fault yourself for being whatever it is that you are. There’s no shame in not knowing everything, even after you’ve been reading Fine Woodworking for a year. There’s no need to blame anything if you’re not actually doing anything wrong.

-Keep with it. Even if it’s only once a week or so. Even if you can only afford to work with pine. Even if you’re not working with the best tools. If you stay with woodworking long enough, you’ll start to develop your skill. That’s more important when you’re starting out than materials or quality of tools. I know guys at North Bennet that did gorgeous work with minimal, and sometimes poor quality tools.

-Remember that the masters weren’t working with electricity. Routers, table saws, and other things are great. But they won’t compensate for a will to work, and a little bit of creativity in solving problems. It’s true that the Shakers came up with the table saw, but that only served to make their already high level of craftsmanship a little more efficient.

-Reading is no substitute for working. This bears repeating.

-Reading is no substitute for working, and information without experience is dangerous. You can read about low angle planes in here all day long, and still never know what it feels like to finally get a blade sharp enough to slice cleanly through end grain. There’s no point in debating how much longer a Lie-Nielsen chisel will hold an edge when you can’t put an edge on an Irwin in the first place. And it’s all well and good to talk about how hard it is to work with curly maple, but if you haven’t even figured out regular maple yet, you’re regurgitating someone else’s information, you’re not speaking from experience.

I can understand the impulse to sound learned, especially in today’s academic world. But I have so much more fun talking to someone who’s in the middle of trying to figure things out, because they’re actually learning. I was talking to someone in a woodworking store the other day, and they had all this information from magazines and such on how much better this tool was than that tool, and why this one was much more versatile, but when I asked them how it affected their work, they were oddly silent on the matter. Oddly enough, they were pretty silent on the topic of their work in general, even though they had oh so much to say about the newest tools in the store.

-Woodworkers go through two initial stages, it seems. First, they buy tools. Then, they collect wood. I like what Sam Maloof had to say about wood. I’ll paraphrase, because I can’t find the quote, (and now that I think about it, it might have been George Nakashima, instead…) but basically, he said that he had a working relationship with the wood, and not a worship relationship. Good wood is awesome to behold, this is true. But it’s also a material to be worked with. Make the best you can with what you have, but don’t get too emotionally involved with the wood itself. It’s true, you have a great relationship while you’re working together, but there will be other woods over the years, and all will have their own personalities.

Just do the best work you can, and don’t burden yourself with too much over-thinking about the significance of whether or not something should have been otherwise. You do the best you can with what you have in the way of tools, knowledge, and materials at the time. More tools will be made. More wood will grow. I promise you, this will happen. Just learn everything you can from what’s in front of you at the time.

-Take classes if you have time and money. A picture’s worth a thousand words. A little supervision can be worth a million. It’s always better to learn in person, because the instructor can see first hand how and what you’re doing, both right and wrong.

-If you ever think about buying a table saw, take a class first. I read somewhere that over 70% of new woodworker injuries to beginners happen on the tablesaw. Your buddy the contractor may have started as a new guy on a framing crew that uses an underpowered benchtop saw, and he’s used to jam-ups instead of kickback, and as long as he can fit his finger between the blade and the fence, he might not use a push-stick, either. The learning curve is huge, and the school of hard knocks on a tablesaw can be literally deadly. Thin strips can knife through you, and fingers can sometimes only be re-attached if you’re lucky. I can’t stress this enough. The table saw is probably one of the most useful tools in a woodworking shop, but YOU HAVE TO KNOW HOW TO USE IT SAFELY. Even if it’s only so you can continue to pick your nose, take the time and spend the money to learn everything you can from someone who teaches table saw safety for a living.

There’s more, and I probably should have waxed a little more poetic in here. Woodwork can be immensely satisfying, heartbreaking, stressful, challenging, rewarding, expensive, absolutely worth it, consuming, and transforming… if you let it.

All my best to the new guys, and hope to see you around.

James