The classroom at Lie-Nielsen Toolworks in Warren, Maine, is adjacent to the showroom; to access it, one must pass through the room of shiny temptations. I left Cincinnati to teach a weekend class there with an empty slot in my chisel roll, but returned with it full.
I am now the proud (but chagrined) owner of a newly blooded 1″ chisel.
In that class, and just this weekend during a sawbench class at Lost Art Press, I mentioned that every new chisel – no matter the brand – is out to get you with the razor-sharp long edges (or “lands”). I’ve often joked that on some makes, the lands are sharper than the business end (which is true for some hardware-store offerings, though not for premium tools).
No matter the make, the chisel edges are easily sharp enough to cut flesh, if not wood. So during classes when I see a student wielding brand-new chisels, I typically grab a piece of #220 (or thereabouts) sandpaper and run it a few times over those edges, particularly in the regions one might grip while paring. (Yes, I know they’re sharp to get into corners…but you have to be able to hold them!)
So this Saturday, I gave my usual “don’t cut yourself” spiel, eased a few student chisel edges, then we carried on with the work. On Sunday, I grabbed my new chisel out of my chest to pare the bottom of a dado, forgetting I’d not yet followed my own (oft-repeated) advice.
While the cuts don’t look too bad after cleaning, bandaging and 26 hours, my new sawbench will forever be DNA-identifiable. And I am embarrassed to have let blood – and a fair amount thereof – in such a manner after preaching against it.
Although those chisel edges are now eased, I fear it’s too late. My 1″ chisel – like my flesh-cut saw – has a taste for blood.