On Curves... and current projects

My wife recently called me out on being a nerd. No, it wasn't the first time she's leveled such accusations. I was reading a victorian-era book on mathematical instruments at the time, because I wanted to read about trigonometry from people who had a more intimate familiarity with how it worked. (I learned to push a button on a calculator. It works, but Mr. Thoren, my trig teacher in high school, didn't ever really get around to explaining why. His ability to teach a class, or lack thereof, was perhaps the only thing my father and I agreed on during my high school years.) 

The backstory is that I need to brush up on my trig, so I can take a running start at Calculus. My current intent is to use those trig exercises as an excuse to get back into drafting and design. So, it'll be a few months of using lots of paper and spending time with these books:

-A Treatise on Mathematical Instruments, by J.F. Heather, 13th ed. I think the original was written in 1853.
-Industrial Science Drawing, by S. Edward Warren, 2nd ed, (I think) from 1889. Parts I, II, and maybe III.
-Essentials of Plane Trigonometry, by Rosenbach, Whitman, and Moskovitz, original copyright, 1937
-And, if I'm feeling froggy enough, I might add in some of Walker and Tolpin's book, By Hand and Eye. More likely, I'll use that as a distraction during vacation, after Calculus, and keep the drafting thing going.

I enjoy reading books from the late 1800s, when it comes to technical things. Among other reasons, that pile of books I just listed, combined, weigh less than the average 21st century math textbook. They're also more concise, and they make an effort to be readable.

Another reason I'm taking this route: I've found that drafting things by hand makes me think harder about what's actually getting laid onto the paper, and why it works, or doesn't. Some of that is because my brain, to steal a quote from Doug Stowe, is in my hands. Some of it is because, unlike working in CAD, the hand-drawn page does NOT automatically propagate, and I can't put a detail down on paper very well if I can't see it in my own mind first. Usually both images co-evolve, because I use the paper drawing to help hold the framework for my head, while I focus on the particulars... I think. It's a weird back and forth.

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...And so it is that I found myself skimming through a section on free-hand geometrical drawing, from part I of Industrial Science Drawing. I got poked in the eye by the following quote:

"Work becomes costly as soon as straight outlines are abandoned, and especially as carved work begins to be employed, that its consequent difficulty of attainment makes it symbolical of the grace and beauty that can only be had under the best conditions, or, as the result of man's best aspirations; while the plain lines of ordinary work represent, by comparison, humbler human industries. Hence a bit of choice carving to crown, or tip, or face a piece of otherwise plain work, happily symbolizes the cheerful co-operation of happiness and honest industry, the meeting of truth and beauty."

Nineteenthth century predilection for male accomplishment aside, the quote stood out in part because it's basically the reason most people I've met as woodworkers, got into woodworking. They just want something that's a little bit nicer than what's typically on offer. It may also have something to do with why so many industrially executed embellishments fail so miserably to look nice: Something that skilled artisans used to do, to show skill and pride, is now done by machine, so the manufacturer can pretend to. It also reminded me of David Savage's telling of the story of the infamous 863, and the personal pride in making things that the 'daft old 863' had in spades. See his book, The Intelligent Hand for more.

Lastly, my mind read the quote, in part, as metaphor. Sometimes it's hard to take a roundabout way to get somewhere, like I'm trying to do with engineering. Like any other endeavor, really, as soon as the straight and well-worn path is abandoned, and the traveler tries to do something a little more meaningful along the way, it's just a little bit harder... and more precious.

Some basic trig, from Mathematical Instruments

Roubo on Furniture

The other day I posted this tease picture, under the headline "Satisfied would be a gross understatement."

After thinking about it, I felt weird and self-conscious about my approach to the post from a few different directions. And so I pulled it down.

And then the next day, I noticed that someone had left the following comment:

"I love those books, and can't believe we actually got to publish them. Plus, I use them all the time, so it's a joy to page through them."

For those who don't know, this is a shot of the spines of two expensive, limited edition books, in a very large, long-abandoned format. (12-1/4" x 17-1/4") The first, I bought years ago, when it was still available. The other, arrived this week. They're English translations of two (out of five) volumes on woodworking that were written by André Jacob Roubo. They were translated, and the content clarified, by a multi-disciplinary team that are each authorities in their own right, intending that the book should be not only authoritative, but readable and use-able to an English-literate audience. My understanding is that producing each of these books was a long, arduous, and devoted labor of love, that spanned an ocean, and many years. It also resulted in the production of two, separate, Award  Winning volumes. There are smaller, 'normal sized' editions of these books that are, and will continue to be available from Lost Art Press. But these are the big, fancy, brag-worthy ones. And I'm pretty sure that the comment was left by Chris Schwarz, one of the owners and stewards of this particular imprint.

And so, after noticing the comment, I felt like a dope for pulling the post. But here's the rest of the story. 

I had already planned to road-trip down to Lost Art Press this month, specifically to buy this book. This was back when they had planned to open the doors to the public, as they do every month. But fate, and the pandemic, had other ideas. As I said the other day, I can't think of another way to support the lunatic ideas that are coming out of Lost Art Press, than to continue to buy their product. So, since I had the money earmarked for this particular book already, and because I was knocked so far sideways by what he's got planned for the forthcoming Anarchist's Workbench book, I knee-jerk ordered this thing in response. ("Books for free, my eye! Take that, you Anarchist! HA!")

I don't like doing reviews of things until I'm familiar with them. And it's Roubo. If I need to explain that to you, as the saying goes, you wouldn't get it anyway. For me to offer to pass judgment on Roubo would be the height of vanity.

That said, I can at least say something about the physical object that LAP has produced. Yes, it’s award-winning, and I can see why. But aside from that, there’s good reason to go with the large format: The plates and illustrations in Roubo are large, and detailed. And you get a much better look at large, detailed illustrations when they’re printed in a large, detailed format. And the resolution on the page is incredible, so those images are even more crisp. I can't decide if these books are too nice to use in the shop, or if they deserve to be on the bench as regularly as possible. Probably a false dichotomy: I do respect my tools, and I do use them on the bench. And the pages in these editions are printed on very heavy stock. So they’re going, in theory, to last for a good, long time. That, on top of a sewn binding, heavy, durable covers, and a slip case that actually slips off. (I’ve owned fine copies of other books, where the slip cases were very, very tight, and so some man-handling was required to extricate their contents..)

I can also say I was caught off-guard by the packaging of this latter book when it was delivered. They invested in some custom cardboard crating to provide ample crumple zones around the edges of the box, and did a noteworthy job protecting the volume. It's one of those little things that conveys just how seriously they take their product, and their customers. So, job well done. And thanks, for that.

Totally worth every penny.