Ace Jet 170

Cross

In Umbria €3, after a little accidental haggling, gets you a Nurse/Nun's vintage Red Cross ID card at the local flee-sized flee market that you accidentally pass on your way to buy your hungry family breakfast. Printed interestingness aside, the photo adds a whole other dimension to the ephemeric provocation: Who was this Nun/Nurse/Nurse-Nun? I don't know. But I do know my family is hungry so I'd better get a move on before they twig I'm taking too long.

Mortices and Markings

I've got this side project on at the moment; a writing project. It's taking me flippin' ages to be honest but it's bringing me into contact with some really interesting people. People I have to interview, about their jobs. So far, I've met a few people in the film industry, a basket maker, a theatre lighting technician, a set designer and last Friday, a joiner working on restoration projects for the National Trust. We met in his workshop. His workshop made of wood, that smells of wood and is full of tools…and wood.

Now you may remember, I have carpentry in my blood. Sawdust runs through my veins. The sight of a vintage Spear & Jackson saw or a handsome flat blade wood plane is enough to make me reach for my beechwood mortice and marking gauge. It's THAT exciting.

Designers, writers, coders; we're all making stuff. We all manipulate materials – either physical or metaphysical – chiselling away at things, dovetailing seperates into connecteds. Sawing things into sections before shaving away layers. Drilling into the undrilled. Finely sanding before waxing and polishing.

Whether it's words, pictures or commands, it's not that different to wood. Not really. It's just less natural, less grown. Manufactured material instead of harvested material. A few more steps away from the natural order of things.

I think the reason why woodwork has prevailing appeal, to me at least, is because of its proximity to nature and our more instinctive side. It's hunter gatherer stuff and once we've grown weary of the glossy mass produced world, the hand made and downright wonky, if I have anything to do with it, tuggs at our hearts.

There and brack again

Spring. And with it returns more opportunities to scratch around the shoreline for discarded bivalve mollusc casings; washed up from their brackish habitats for macroscopic scrutiny.

Re-post: Rabbet

[From July 2012]

My dad made this rabbet plane. It's for cutting rebates in wood. Rabbet/Rebate? I can't find any explanation but you have to wonder about that name? A dialectic thing? Or just because it's got that sticky-up bit and reminds you of a rabbit. Well, actually, it doesn't really does it? If it wasn't for the name, you wouldn't think, "looks like a rabbit that does" would you? I've had a dig around but no one on the internet seems to want to talk about it.

I suppose it doesn't matter really. What matters is that this beautiful piece of routed hardwood, with it's decades old construction marks and wear was used to carve grooves and recesses into machined wood. Say for, oh I don't know, perhaps for a glazing bar where it makes provision for the insertion of the pane of glass or to accommodate the edge of a cabinet's back panel or for a casement window jamb or for shiplap planking.

[Much later]

Oh, the word "rabbet" is from the Old French "rabbat" meaning "a recess into a wall".

The Weed

We were up on the north coast on Sunday, visiting Karen's friend Abigail. She has a place in Cushendall. The beach on Cushendall gets lots of sea debris and with a good few days of amazing weather, the detritus was all dried out. Ready for picking.

To the unfamiliar, most of the flotsam and jetsam looks like the dried stems of bulbous flowers. But of course those heads are seaweed roots, their dehydrated tendrils twisted into alien, slightly creepy, shapes.

There's more to freak you out on Flickr.

Storehouse meets Oomph!

We've been working with Storehouse for a few years now. A foodbank, Storehouse take in donations of none perishable food stuffs and redistribute them amongst those that need it most. It's amazing (and quite sad) to realise there are people just down the road from you that really need basic help like this. So Storehouse encourages supporters to buy a bit extra when they shop and to leave it at predetermined collection points (lots are in churches).

There's probably a foodbank near you, it's a concept that's been applied all over the place and is a great way for anyone to make a difference to the lives of people in need within your community. I suppose that's "the thing", they're in your neighbourhood. There's more specifically about Storehouse here.

My colleagure Al is the main man for Storehouse; he's designed most of the stuff we've done. So when Jack from Oomph! got in touch and asked if we had any idea for their cards it occurred to us that a major challenge with Storehouse can be getting supporters to remember, long term, to pick up something to donate.

So Al designed a card and Oomph! produced it for us. It's a great use of the format and Oomph! make it really easy to use the credit card format in new and original way.

Find out more about Oomph! here.

Dufle Minor

It was my birthday on Monday. No, please, there's no need to apologies, when you get to my ages, you know…something, something. Anyway, got some nice presents. A sea fishing rod, Iron Man on DVD, a four-pack of Cadbury's DoubleDeckers, a part-used pack of crayons that was actually given to us last month on the ferry to Scotland (special thanks to Seth for that one).

I also got a rather lovely mini Dufle — for my pocket-sized device — from super-talented/would-be-nothing-without-her Edie Sloane, aka Karen, my wife.

Loose Threads

Cotton thread is ever present in our home life. Largely because the International manufacturing hub of Karen's handmade empire is located in our dining room, with its centre of production pretty much overwhelming our dining table. A few minutes before dinner, almost everyday, the table has to be routinely cleared. And it's not uncommon to find small clumps of discarded threads here and there.

It struck me the other day that these spartan cotton nests are kind of beautiful.

Clutchers

A little shorter than normal, the Fürst 2.0 clutch pencil is my scribbling implement of choice. I used to be a propelling kind of guy; the Rotring does take some beating. But the clutch pencil comes with something, a special pleasure, that the propeller doesn't have…A lead sharpener in the end. Really! You just unscrew the shiny (so shiny!) end — not forgetting to extend the lead a little first (got to do that first!) — then for the next two to three minutes you can whittle over; to your heart's content, as they say.

And with your freshly sharpened point(s) you can return to your drawing board, with renewed vigour. A new and better world is just a few sketches away.

You can buy your own, world changing Fürst 2.0 over at Herb Lester. And while your there, check out the mighty 5.6mm beast.

Exercise

Just before Christmas, Nat in the studio, got a really nice package from the Italian paper manufacturer Fedrigoni. We all looked on enviously. But not one to let these things lie, I promptly contacted the company and they kindly sent me my own copy. Part calendar, part Woodstock paper range school exercise book style promo, the pack was design by The One Off. And it comes with a pencil and some string; it's lovely.