A Journey Through Sashimono Woodworking
So, I’m sitting here with my coffee—black, no sugar, just like I like my projects—thinking about a time I tried my hand at sashimono woodworking. You know, the traditional Japanese joinery stuff. Man, I thought I’d be a whiz at it. I mean, how hard could it be to make a simple box with some well-fitted joints, right? Let me tell ya, if I had known what I was in for, I might’ve just stuck to building birdhouses like I’d done in high school.
The Call of the Wood
It all started one rainy afternoon—I can still smell the damp wood in my garage. I had this lovely piece of cherry I’d picked up from the local lumberyard. Cherry has this gorgeous reddish hue and, oh man, that smell when you start cutting into it? Like candy. So I figured, “Why not?” and started sketching out my plans for a small storage box. Simple enough, I thought. But little did I know, this would turn into a whole saga.
I gathered up my tools, my precious Japanese chisels, and my trusty Ryoba saw. I had read all the forums and watched plenty of YouTube videos on how to get those perfect joints without using nails or screws. “Just cut, fit, and voila!” Yeah, let’s just say I was a tad more naive than I should’ve been.
The First Cut
I still remember that first cut. I was so pumped; I thought, “This is gonna be smooth sailing!” But, surprise, surprise—my hands felt all shaky. Long story short, I ended up with a chintzy little miter that looked like I’d done it blindfolded. If I had a dollar for every twig I snapped while trying to figure out the best angle to cut at, I’d be sipping a latte instead of swigging this black brew.
At that moment, I almost threw in the towel. I mean, really? I’d read how master craftsmen made it look so easy, and here I was, floundering like a fish out of water. But something—stubbornness, probably—kept me going. It was either that or watch another episode of whatever was on Netflix, and I wasn’t about to let a piece of wood beat me.
Fitting in Tight Places
So, after a few more attempts, I finally managed to get the hang of the cuts. I felt like a real craftsman. That is until I realized my joints were fitting way too tightly. They were like those stubborn joints that wear you down in a board game—nothing budging! I couldn’t even dry-fit the pieces without sweating bullets. I grabbed my Marking Gauge—an absolute must-have, let me tell you—and figured, “Alright, if I can mark it, I can measure it.”
But, you know, marking is one thing; cutting it precisely is another. I made more than a few too-deep cuts on the end grain, which led to splintered edges and my own personal brand of heartache. The sound that day? Silence. Just the rustling of the wood and my sighs echoing through the garage as I contemplated my choices in life.
Lessons Learned
Eventually, after many fits of troublesome joints and a few colorful words I won’t repeat here, I got one side fitting nicely. I nearly fell over when I realized the joints actually stayed together without any glue or fasteners. That turned into a small victory dance, right there in front of the workbench. I must’ve looked like a lunatic, twirling with my saw in one hand, but hey, you take your victories where you can get ‘em!
Then came the final touch—finishing it off with some natural oil. The smell of that cherry wood mixed with the linseed oil? Pure bliss. I sat back, gazed at my creation, and can I be honest? It was worth the struggle. I had gone from being completely lost to something that resembled a real piece of artwork. The joins may not have been perfect, but they were mine.
A Good Cup of Coffee and a Lesson for Life
Sitting there, coffee cooling, I reflected on the whole experience. Sashimono woodworking isn’t just about creating something out of wood; it’s about patience. It’s about not giving up when the journey gets tough. If I can crank out a hobby that challenges me and ultimately brings joy—even if it’s rooted in a little frustration—it’s all worth it in the end.
So yeah, if you’re even thinking about dipping your toes into this world—give it a shot. Maybe you’ll mess up more than once, maybe you won’t nail it on the first go, but that’s part of it, isn’t it? Embrace the chaos, laugh at the screw-ups, and rush towards that sweet smell of freshly cut wood. What have you got to lose?
