During the past couple of weeks I've been cutting a portrait of a lion from a pattern that was kindly sent to me by a friend. I wouldn't normally touch a portrait that had 239 cuts in it, many of which are quite detailed. Nevertheless, I pushed ahead. Here's a 'work in progress' photograph:
It's the first time that I've stack cut a piece like this, but there was no way I was going to make all those piercing cuts for the sake of just one picture! Since I wasn't too sure what the outcome would be like in terms of quality, I used B&Qs finest interior grade 4mm plywood for the project. Blades were mostly Hegner's Pebeco #3 and #1.
I cursed the picture from the outset because I thought it would be too intricate for me; just too tedious and not to my taste. Nevertheless, since I'd been sent the pattern as a favour, I felt somewhat obliged to make an effort so (reluctantly) I started cutting. Now I'm pleased I did.
Some of you may recall me bemoaning my Hegner in the past for a propensity to bend blades forward during piercing work. It came as no surprise to me at the outset of the project when my blades started bending, but after 70 cuts or thereabouts I began to notice that this problem had abated
! Clearly, the fault had lain not with the machine but with my own technique. I haven't got the foggiest idea what I was doing wrong before because I didn't make a conscious effort to address the problem. Nevertheless, I seem to have worked through one of my own shortcomings by dint of practice and perseverence. It strikes me there's a moral in there somewhere.
Another enjoyable thing happened to me as the project progressed. I've heard athletes talk about being 'in the zone', as if everything they do just goes right and their efforts become effortless. Strangely enough, that happened to me - I suddenly found that I could do no wrong, just so long as I actually wanted the cuts to be accurate! It was weird, as if the saw had become a manifestation of my willpower. The pattern lines suddenly seemed to be as wide as the M1, not that it mattered because I felt as if I could have cut a hair down the middle. It was such a strange, transcendental experience. I'm hoping for a recurrence soon
.
How did the lion portraits come out in the end? The cutting is finished and I'm going to lay both pieces aside until I can build a suitable piece of furniture that can incorporate them as a matching pair. So here they are, fresh from the saw and awaiting sanding:
Apologies for the yellowy colour of the photograph - one day I'll take a decent picture and amaze everyone!
At least I can now put this project aside. I didn't want anything laying partially cut on my Hegner when I take delivery of my reconditioned Diamond tomorrow.
Gill