Chipped edges on new planes and do new planes need sharpening before use?
- Thread starter silz
- Start date
Help Support UKworkshop.co.uk:
Trevanion
Greatest Of All Time
I take the corners off rather than camber my smoothing plane blade.
Also, surely one could use a cabinet scraper rather than having to sand?
MikeG.
Established Member
Suddenly, this poster's location has gone from Wales to the Hebrides. Curiouser and curiouser.....
Phil Pascoe
Established Member
Attempting to get away from people?
By the bye. I seem to remember some while ago reading that some fairly comprehensive trials had been carried out and that there was no discernable difference between a sanded finish and one straight from the plane.
By the bye. I seem to remember some while ago reading that some fairly comprehensive trials had been carried out and that there was no discernable difference between a sanded finish and one straight from the plane.
MikeG.
Established Member
Well, I don't know about that. Here's some bog oak, which has been sanded all over....then half scraped. You can plainly see a brighter shinier finish where the scraper has been(top half of the image):
Phil, would I be right in thinking that your last post has just the teensiest hint of a wind up about it?
MikeG.
Established Member
For those following the ins and outs of the member-formerly-known-as Sebc, his new name, it seems, is silz.
Phil Pascoe
Established Member
Not at all. Iirc Custard was involved somewhere in the thread that brought it up.
Mike - is you piece polished in any way or bare?
MikeG.
Established Member
That's in mid-preparation, still raw.
AJB Temple
Finely figured
I just don't get this constantly changing names. My parents called me Adrian (the first bit of AJB Temple) when I was a baby, unfortunately (I would have chosen almost anything else) and I have had that one ever since. My name on this site is, wait for it...Adrian. Even my wife calls me that. When she is in a good mood. She has other names when she is not in a good mood. She is not English and she has mood swings in my opinion.
Adrian
Last edited:
TheTiddles
Established Member
I suppose Adrian, you’ve never acted in a way on the forum that you were so ashamed of that you couldn’t stand to be associated with your previous actions, just hypothesising....
Are you sure your parents didn’t just make a spelling mistake whilst aiming for a much better name?
Aidan
AJB Temple
Finely figured
I just knew you would say that !
Tony Zaffuto
Established Member
I use my God given name. At least one forum in the states requires that. The upside is you would not post anything that you wouldn't say to a person's face. The downside is you would not post anything that you wouldn't say to a person's face.
I'm puzzled by this Sebastian goomer changing his name repeatedly, changing/removing posts etc. This thread is very interesting in seeing different methods, perspectives, etc. posted. I never took any classes, but there have been a few authors that I have read and learned from. First was David Charlesworth (I have purchased everything he has authored), next is Robert Wearing, then Charles Hayward and Jim Krenov.
I'm puzzled by this Sebastian goomer changing his name repeatedly, changing/removing posts etc. This thread is very interesting in seeing different methods, perspectives, etc. posted. I never took any classes, but there have been a few authors that I have read and learned from. First was David Charlesworth (I have purchased everything he has authored), next is Robert Wearing, then Charles Hayward and Jim Krenov.
Sgian Dubh
Established Member
Maybe this is as good a time as any to throw in the following hoary old chestnut, primarily to take minds off the 'Spot the Jacob/ not Jacob' game that's developed, and just for the hell of it, ha, ha.
*********************************************************************************************
A Lesson in Sharpening
A perennial subject in woodworking magazines and forums is that of sharpening techniques. No other furniture making topic seems to generate so much tedious verbose nit-picking and circular bickering in woodworking forums, along with the publication of innumerable 'sure fire' and 'infallible' methods in blogs, YouTube videos, and magazines articles. For some reason most of these espoused methods for achieving a sharp edge on a tool seem to take an inordinate amount of time, and require a large array of bits and bobs to do the job-- I sometimes wonder if the process of sharpening is the main objective of the exercise for the people that describe them, rather than the means to working wood effectively.
Naturally, the subject is of interest because blunt tools aren't much use. Preamble to many of these articles often causes a wry smile for they bring back memories of my initiation into the 'dark' art. Many authors make points about those that struggle at it, and possess a workshop full of dull tools. Conversely, it is sometimes said that those that can do the job tend to be fanatical about grits, slurries and bevel angles.
My experience is that there are really only two types of people when it comes to sharpening:
Those that can’t.
Those that can.
In the first group, those that can't, you'll sometimes see every sharpening system known to man arrayed around their workshop gathering dust. They have fancy grinders, oilstones, water stones, ceramic stones, diamond stones, guides, pieces of sandpaper, jigs, etc: yet just about every edge tool they own is chipped, dull and mostly useless.
In the second group, those that can, I haven’t observed much fanaticism about slurries, grits and bevel angles. In all the workshops I’ve worked in the only concern is to get the job done. It’s a case of, "Plane’s blunt, better sharpen it." Dig out the stone, sharpen the blade, shove it back in the plane, and use it. The equipment is minimal. A grinder, a stone of some sort and lubricant along with a few slips for gouges and the like, and perhaps a piece of oiled leather charged with a bit of fine powdered abrasive for final stropping.
Going back to the seventies when I trained, learning how to sharpen tools was undertaken within the first few days. I don’t now recall precisely the order of my instruction, but it went something like this. I was handed a plane by the cabinetmaker I was assigned to and told, "Get that piece o’ wood square." I didn’t know why, but I’d done a bit of woodworking at school, so I had a vague idea what to do. I fooled around with that lump of wood for twenty or so minutes, and got it something like. All this under the watchful eye of the crusty old guy and his ever present roll-up hanging out of the corner of his mouth.
"Okay, I’ve done that," I said, "Now what do you want me to do?"
I was told to hang about for a minute whilst he picked up his square and straight edge and proceeded to scrutinise my handiwork, which was followed by a non-committal grunt and some desultory foot sweeping of the plentiful shavings on the floor; the wood was probably only about ninety per cent or so of its original volume.
"Now sonny, let’s do the next job," he announced. "Pull that jack plane ye’ve bin usin’ apairt and let’s have a look at the iron." I did.
"Hold the iron up so’s ye can see the cuttin' edge," he instructed - he was a Scot. Again, I did as I was told.
"Now, can ye see it? Can ye see the ‘line-o’-light’ at the shairp end there?" he wheezed, as he tapped a line of ash onto the floor and stood on it. He was referring to the shiny reflection visible when cutting edges are dull.
"Aye," I said, after a little eye squinting, and other pretence of intelligence.
"How shairp does it look to you boy?" he enquired.
I thought about this for a moment or two, seeking the right response to my tormentor, for I hadn't really got a clue what he was talking about, and finally replied rather hopefully and a bit brightly, "Pretty shairp, I’d say."
He laughed out loud, and hacked a bit. "Dinnae be the daft bloody laddie wi’ me son. If ye can see it, it’s blunt. I could ride that bloody iron ye're holdin’ bare-a rsed to London and back and no cut ma’sel’. Get o’er here an’ I’ll show ye something."
You can probably guess. Out came the oilstone from his toolbox and quick as a flash the iron was whisking up and down the stone, flipped over, the wire edge removed, and finally it was stropped backwards and forwards on the calloused palm of his hand. You could shave with it. I know, because he demonstrated how sharp it was by slicing a few hairs off his forearm. On went the cap iron and the assembly was dropped back in the plane. This was followed by a bit of squinting along the sole from the front whilst the lever and knob were fiddled with and that was it. He took a few shavings off a piece of wood and it went back in his toolbox. It took, oh … a few minutes.
"Now son, that’s a shairp plane. It’s nae bloody use blunt. Ye may as well sling a soddin’ blunt yin in the bucket fer all the use it is to me," he explained with great refinement. "I’ve plenty mair o’ them in that box, an’ they’re all blunt. Ah’ve bin savin' 'em for ye. There’s a bunch a chisels too. Let’s get ye started."
For what felt like forever I sharpened his tools for the one and only time I was allowed to under his rheumy eyed and critical stare, and things gradually got better. After a while he stopped telling me what a "completely daft stupit wee bastud " I was, and a bit later he started offering grudging approval. I had to sharpen two or three tools more than once because he kept using and dulling them ... or maybe I just hadn't sharpened them too well the first time? When I’d done the lot we stopped and surveyed the day’s work.
"Aye, nae too bad fer a daft laddie's fust effort," he commented darkly, sucking hard on his smoke, "I think ye’ve goat whit it takes. Time’ll tell sonnie. Remember, ye’ll never be a bloody cabinetmaker if ye cannae even shairpen yer frickin’ tools. Lesson over. Dinnae ferget it."
I haven't.
*********************************************************************************************
A Lesson in Sharpening
A perennial subject in woodworking magazines and forums is that of sharpening techniques. No other furniture making topic seems to generate so much tedious verbose nit-picking and circular bickering in woodworking forums, along with the publication of innumerable 'sure fire' and 'infallible' methods in blogs, YouTube videos, and magazines articles. For some reason most of these espoused methods for achieving a sharp edge on a tool seem to take an inordinate amount of time, and require a large array of bits and bobs to do the job-- I sometimes wonder if the process of sharpening is the main objective of the exercise for the people that describe them, rather than the means to working wood effectively.
Naturally, the subject is of interest because blunt tools aren't much use. Preamble to many of these articles often causes a wry smile for they bring back memories of my initiation into the 'dark' art. Many authors make points about those that struggle at it, and possess a workshop full of dull tools. Conversely, it is sometimes said that those that can do the job tend to be fanatical about grits, slurries and bevel angles.
My experience is that there are really only two types of people when it comes to sharpening:
Those that can’t.
Those that can.
In the first group, those that can't, you'll sometimes see every sharpening system known to man arrayed around their workshop gathering dust. They have fancy grinders, oilstones, water stones, ceramic stones, diamond stones, guides, pieces of sandpaper, jigs, etc: yet just about every edge tool they own is chipped, dull and mostly useless.
In the second group, those that can, I haven’t observed much fanaticism about slurries, grits and bevel angles. In all the workshops I’ve worked in the only concern is to get the job done. It’s a case of, "Plane’s blunt, better sharpen it." Dig out the stone, sharpen the blade, shove it back in the plane, and use it. The equipment is minimal. A grinder, a stone of some sort and lubricant along with a few slips for gouges and the like, and perhaps a piece of oiled leather charged with a bit of fine powdered abrasive for final stropping.
Going back to the seventies when I trained, learning how to sharpen tools was undertaken within the first few days. I don’t now recall precisely the order of my instruction, but it went something like this. I was handed a plane by the cabinetmaker I was assigned to and told, "Get that piece o’ wood square." I didn’t know why, but I’d done a bit of woodworking at school, so I had a vague idea what to do. I fooled around with that lump of wood for twenty or so minutes, and got it something like. All this under the watchful eye of the crusty old guy and his ever present roll-up hanging out of the corner of his mouth.
"Okay, I’ve done that," I said, "Now what do you want me to do?"
I was told to hang about for a minute whilst he picked up his square and straight edge and proceeded to scrutinise my handiwork, which was followed by a non-committal grunt and some desultory foot sweeping of the plentiful shavings on the floor; the wood was probably only about ninety per cent or so of its original volume.
"Now sonny, let’s do the next job," he announced. "Pull that jack plane ye’ve bin usin’ apairt and let’s have a look at the iron." I did.
"Hold the iron up so’s ye can see the cuttin' edge," he instructed - he was a Scot. Again, I did as I was told.
"Now, can ye see it? Can ye see the ‘line-o’-light’ at the shairp end there?" he wheezed, as he tapped a line of ash onto the floor and stood on it. He was referring to the shiny reflection visible when cutting edges are dull.
"Aye," I said, after a little eye squinting, and other pretence of intelligence.
"How shairp does it look to you boy?" he enquired.
I thought about this for a moment or two, seeking the right response to my tormentor, for I hadn't really got a clue what he was talking about, and finally replied rather hopefully and a bit brightly, "Pretty shairp, I’d say."
He laughed out loud, and hacked a bit. "Dinnae be the daft bloody laddie wi’ me son. If ye can see it, it’s blunt. I could ride that bloody iron ye're holdin’ bare-a rsed to London and back and no cut ma’sel’. Get o’er here an’ I’ll show ye something."
You can probably guess. Out came the oilstone from his toolbox and quick as a flash the iron was whisking up and down the stone, flipped over, the wire edge removed, and finally it was stropped backwards and forwards on the calloused palm of his hand. You could shave with it. I know, because he demonstrated how sharp it was by slicing a few hairs off his forearm. On went the cap iron and the assembly was dropped back in the plane. This was followed by a bit of squinting along the sole from the front whilst the lever and knob were fiddled with and that was it. He took a few shavings off a piece of wood and it went back in his toolbox. It took, oh … a few minutes.
"Now son, that’s a shairp plane. It’s nae bloody use blunt. Ye may as well sling a soddin’ blunt yin in the bucket fer all the use it is to me," he explained with great refinement. "I’ve plenty mair o’ them in that box, an’ they’re all blunt. Ah’ve bin savin' 'em for ye. There’s a bunch a chisels too. Let’s get ye started."
For what felt like forever I sharpened his tools for the one and only time I was allowed to under his rheumy eyed and critical stare, and things gradually got better. After a while he stopped telling me what a "completely daft stupit wee bastud " I was, and a bit later he started offering grudging approval. I had to sharpen two or three tools more than once because he kept using and dulling them ... or maybe I just hadn't sharpened them too well the first time? When I’d done the lot we stopped and surveyed the day’s work.
"Aye, nae too bad fer a daft laddie's fust effort," he commented darkly, sucking hard on his smoke, "I think ye’ve goat whit it takes. Time’ll tell sonnie. Remember, ye’ll never be a bloody cabinetmaker if ye cannae even shairpen yer frickin’ tools. Lesson over. Dinnae ferget it."
I haven't.
Last edited:
Cabinetman
Established Member
Don’t worry Adrian, it’s not you particularly. I long ago came to the conclusion that the female of the species has a couple of design flaws, you have spotted one, the other one is that it’s always too cold. Not sure how many female members we have but I think I’m in trouble!
TheTiddles
Established Member
God gave you a name? Really??!
Cabinetman
Established Member
Thank you Richard, I could hear him saying it, just about sums it all up really. With some people it’s all the gear no idea.
Tony Zaffuto
Established Member
Gave me a name and my chums have given a raft of other names, most not safe to post.
