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As many of you know, I demonstrate early woodwork at Pennsbury Manor. We were visited a few weeks ago by a reporter from a local newspaper who wanted to see why we do what we do. You can read his column here.
I never feel I do a good job speaking to the press. On a recent interview for a podcast, I took a simple 20 minute question and answer and turned it into an hour long bore-fest. One needs to answer clearly and succinctly and quickly. It’s a skill I don’t have. Guys like Schwarz are great at this.
Anyway, my concern about the fellow from the newspaper was that he was going to paint us as freaks and geeks. And tho some of us may fit that description, I thought that would be dismissive. And in Pennsbury Manor’s case, many of the volunteers are highly skilled. I don’t think it’s fair to describe their motivation as “wishing they were back in time”.
Looks like I got quoted a lot, which, given the controversial nature of what I was saying, is to be expected. The first quote:
“Some of us might have made unsatisfying career choices,” Cherubini said, “or maybe the woman controls the house; so in the workroom, we want to be able to make that .0001-inch slice so we can say we control something – 17th-century woodworking demands that kind of precision.”
This is my theory of why 17th c work or period work in general is not as popular with woodworkers. What I actually said was something to the effect that as we get older, we find ourselves recognizing that we cannot effect the changes we want at work, our children make choices we wish they didn’t, our wives make all of the important decisions for our home and family, and the general sphere of our influence shrinks. And for some, it may come as some comfort that at least in our workshops, we can control the cuts we make to .001″ precision. We may not welcome the axe to decide the shape of a piece. To let the grain dictate form is a sort of controlled crash that I think many woodworkers simply can’t abide. I enjoy that uncertainty. I think it’s authentic to the period. Feel free to disagree, but that’s where I was going.
“Sure, you can pretend you’re at a Star Trek convention when you see people like us,” said Cherubini about re-enactors. “First, I don’t consider myself a re-enactor. We are craft demonstrators.”
In this quote, I was just trying to make the point that the clothes we wear are there for the visitors, not to establish a character we are role playing (like a re-enactor perhaps) or to establish ourselves as members of a clique (like folks may at a Star Trek convention). I went on to explain the differences between first person interpreters (who essentially role play), third person interpreters (what I do), and docents or tour guides. Coincidentally, one of the first people to define and differentiate these terms was fellow Pennsbury volunteer interpreter Stacy Roth, who’s book , remains a seminal must read text on the subject.
“And we’re not a subculture,” said Cherubini. “We’re not all nostalgic for the past – not that most people really think about whether we have real lives when they see us here anyway. What’s important is that we need to balance our lives. … We’ve worked in high-stress jobs, or we don’t have enough control over our lives. When we come here, we get to decide for ourselves, be deliberate and share.”
This last quote is a combination of different conversations (during which I was riving and planing stock, btw) and the last sentence is a bit too succinct for me to believe I actually said it.
In terms of why we do what we do, I think there’s a common motivation to present our crafts. In my case, I want to represent not my woodworking skill, but the skills and values of early craftsmen. I don’t want folks to see me struggling with my tools, or fussing with a plane that isn’t sharp. I want my visitors to see what I think the craft looked like then. Fast and efficient.
In terms of balance, I’ve noticed anecdotally, that a lot of the hand tool folks I encounter come from high tech jobs. The need for balance was my guess as to why. Personally, when I’m done working on a computer all day, I don’t want to sit in front of one all night.
I don’t want to pick on the journalist. I think it’s great that he chose this subject and I think whatever preconceived notions he had coming in, he did a good job writing what he heard. I think it’s an interesting, and very complex subject. What I’ve written above is my sense for it. If you are an interpreter, I’d like to hear yours.
Adam
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Adam,
Thanks for your column and your blog. I find both entertaining and informative. I have been involved in living history trying to learn about the medieval time period. I enjoy working with hand tools, though I also use many power tools. I do share your opinion that using the tools of the period helps you understand how our predecessors looked at the problem. That’s all we’re really doing, trying to solve a problem with the tools and materials available.
Keep up your wonderful writing.
Eric
Interesting commentary. Aside from the fact that I too have moved from power to hand tools, I am struck by a thought about being interviewed, as I have from time to time. I also found that the tenor of what I said was changed. I think that one approach in the future would be to ask the reporter first to tell me what he thinks about the subject, so that I can understand his biases and how I can slant my responses to control those as much as possible.
Adam,
I found this post of particular interest. As someone who dives (foolishly at time) head first into how things work, looking to the past has a different meaning for me.
I find that modern thinking lends itself to follow a set of precise steps and bob’s your uncle. Measure this, cut that and glue these parts. Wah-Lah you have a perfect queen alfred highboy.
Rarely, do I find modern texts that can teach me not on what to do, but WHY I’m doing it.
Looking "to the past" for me is an educational step I desire in order to have a complete view of the works that I do.
I can see it in the quesitons raised by many fellow woodwokers a lack of understanding why operations behave in certain ways.
Given the very random and sometimes shocking nature of wood, understanding how the axe evolved into the adze into the plane into the tablesaw into the CNC router into the Laserbeam/Lightsaber saw of tomorrow allows me to make informed decisions about the steps I take.
All this is a long winded way of saying the work you do helps make me a better and hopefully more complete woodworker.
Thank you!
Jim
Adam,
I’m surprised you don’t get more comments on your blog. While I am just a relative beginner I can relate to your comments above. After being in an office it’s nice to do something with your hands and see your accomplishments.
Thanks for the blog and your articles in Popular Woodworking!
Bruce
Adam,
I got my training back in the 70’s at Conner Prairie Pioneer Settlement in Indiana, an 1836 living history museum, where first person interpretation all started. So I do first person, and when people walk into my Cabinet & Chair Shop, they step back to 1857.
Instead of just demonstrating a particular technique, I go about my work and describe to the people what I am doing. It gives the visitors a different perspective when they can see the trade demonstrated within the historic context, both social and economic, as they would have happened during the time.
I also get people involved, especially children, using spokeshaves, drawknives, planes and drills or turning the grand wheel on one of my lathes, they love the hands on stuff and I get a lot of cheap labor.
Stephen