This post details restoration of a kanna by Tsunesaburo and continues from Part 1.
I correct the ‘ears’ on the blade with a white wheel on a stationary bench grinder. I make sure to mark the width I need to go to on each side first; then, at the machine, I just take it slow and use water as a coolant. I should also add I freehand this. Using some form of a jig, or at least a tool rest, will no doubt allow more consistent and repeatable results than mine. Even with my crude, simple technique the blade soon starts looking much better.
Most importantly, the edge is now centred. I grind a bit more than I need since I will be removing the chips in the edge and increasing the bevel angle, therefore shortening the blade. This will widen the edge again. I may need to fine tune it later. This is an ongoing maintenance aspect anyway and is very quick to do.
While at the grinder, I also take off the mushroomed sections at the top of the iron and the chipbreaker. This is a bit awkward to do since visibility is greatly reduced at the angle you need to hold the blade at (unless you want to introduce a bevel). If you fancy giving one of your kannas a similar treatment but feel a bit apprehensive, you can just forego the grinder and use a file. The top half of your kanna will be made of either soft steel or iron, and will be very easy to work by hand.
Straight off the grinder
After grinding, I finesse the surface slightly with a second cut metal file. My intention is to rust blue the exposed bare metal later in order to somewhat blend these areas in.
I now turn my attention to the edge itself, and that shallow bevel angle. Continue reading
A lot has happened since I last wrote something here as I tend to use Instagram for short stories from the workshop these days. I had to impale my thumb on a sharp blade to actually take the time out and write something for this blog. I hope to do that more often (writing, not impaling!).
I mentioned this kanna on Instagram before; it was made by 3rd generation Tsunesaburo in Super Blue Paper steel. Since it arrived from Japan almost two months ago, the wooden body has had more than enough time to acclimate. Now I finally had a moment to sit down, have a look at the kanna in detail and see what is required to bring this secondhand tool back into service. So, before I do anything, let’s take stock of what we are dealing with here…
The dai is very well made in proper Japanese red oak (this is the true hon akagashi!), and generally well fitted, with one unorthodox treatment. There is a series of overlapping relief cuts clearly made with a gouge, in the lower part of the plane bed.
An unusually relieved section like that would have probably provided a quick way to ease an aspect of tightness in fit, or perhaps to eliminate Continue reading
The black walnut box with silver inlay and sycamore as secondary wood is now complete and as always was made entirely with hand tools only.
This project draws inspiration from Japanese art and architecture and the first concept drawing echoed the architectural feel of a torii (鳥居) gate lintel. This was further refined as the small project developed.
The exposed dovetail joinery follows the curves of the ends of the box for an organic feel.
Ornamentation in sterling silver is a simple, nature-inspired illustration in the lid, with the elements in the front of the box tying the composition visually and providing grounding to the shapes of the grasses in the lid. Continue reading
The first thing I ever carved was this love spoon in mahogany that I made for a friends’ wedding, with a presentation box in oak and sapele based on the Mastermyr chest. Not the finest love spoon in the world by a very considerable margin, and certainly not the finest example of box making, but this was an important piece from a personal perspective. Please read on as I’d like to tell you why.
Having carved the lid, we are looking at the rest of the Viking chest today. The form of the box I am making is based on the Mastermyr chest, which is a Viking-made tool chest found in the 1930s in Gotland, Sweden. A farmer, while ploughing for the first time an area reclaimed after draining a lake and a mire, hit on and pulled from the ground an iron chain. The other end of the chain was tangled around an oak box full of woodworking and metalworking tools from the Viking age.
A drawing of the original box. A bit worse for wear and tear but who can complain, after 1,000 years?
The bog environment preserved the box and its contexts in a remarkably good condition for their age (1,000 years). The chest and some 200 tools and blacksmith-made items, including a few fascinating locks, are held in the Swedish History Museum in Stockholm.
My version of the Mastermyr chest, reinterpreted as a box for a child. I do not get any buzz from creating exact replicas, and treat any source material as inspiration.
I like the form and the joinery involved. Because the ends and sides are angled in (not square), it’s more fun than a regular box. And because of the joinery, when you glue it up, you have to do it all in one go. It’s a bit like a puzzle piece to assemble.
We are almost into the New Year and this is traditionally the time when people try and sum up the year behind, and look with expectation to the year ahead. This has been a year of great change and challenge for me. To take stock I looked back, beyond just the last 12 months, and looked around me today so that I can plan into the future. This one is much bigger than just woodworking.
Concept sketches and lettering attempts for what would become a parting present for a colleague and friend.
I think of my family and ask myself, what have I invested here? Will it pay off? Difficult questions to answer, and all too easy to feel inadequate as a parent. Too many hopes and wishes, and not enough tangible stuff. We invest time, effort, love and care and it usually does pay off, but how will your kids remember you? What part of who you are will still live on when you’re not around anymore? If I am not here tomorrow, what would my legacy be?
The resulting carving that grew from the preliminary drawings above, and from the direction my gouges and hands took those first ideas in. This has been the year I decided carving was not beyond me and as always I found I have so much to learn…