Getting into this whole turning thing
Alright, so I’ve been having these ‘turner days’ lately. Not like J.M.W. Turner, the painter, though I reckon some of my early attempts looked like abstract disasters. I’m talking about woodturning. You know, you get a lump of wood, stick it on a machine that spins it, and then you try to carve it into something useful or pretty. Seemed like a neat hobby to pick up, something to do with my hands.
First steps, or missteps, really. I saw a few videos online – these folks making these beautiful bowls, fancy pens, all sorts of cool stuff. Looked almost easy, the way they did it, smooth as butter. So, I thought, “Yeah, I can give that a crack.” Went out and got myself a small lathe, nothing too expensive, just something to get started. Picked up a basic set of turning tools – chisels, gouges, the pointy ones, the round ones, the ones that look like they could take your finger off if you weren’t paying attention.
So, I got my first piece of wood. Some scrap pine I had lying around in the shed. Clamped it onto the lathe, took a deep breath, and fired up the machine. And that’s where the ‘easy’ part packed its bags and left. The tool caught on the wood, the whole thing bucked like a wild horse, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. What I ended up with looked less like a spindle and more like something the dog had found and chewed on for an hour. Dust everywhere. My grand vision of crafting beautiful objects? Took a bit of a beating, that did.
It wasn’t just one bad day, mind you. It was a whole series of them. These, I guess, were my real ‘turner days’ – days where I turned out more frustration and firewood than finished pieces. I’d get the wood spinning, try to make a nice, smooth cut, and then thwack – a catch, a massive gouge, or the damn thing would just split clean in two. My workshop started looking like a wood chip factory had exploded. My wife wasn’t too chuffed about the mess tracking into the house, either.
You know what they don’t often show you in those slick online videos? The hours of pure, teeth-grinding frustration. The tools that go blunt after five minutes. The wood that seems to have a personal vendetta against you, full of hidden knots and cracks. They make it look like some kind of graceful ballet between the craftsman and the machine. My experience? More like a clumsy wrestling match where the wood was winning most of the rounds, and I was just getting covered in sawdust.
- Sharpening those tools? That’s a whole other ball game. I reckon I spent more time fiddling with the grinding wheel, trying to get the angles right, than actually turning wood.
- Finding good wood to practice on? That pine was a terrible idea. Too soft, tears out like crazy. Had to learn about hardwoods, grain direction, and all that jazz the hard way.
- And safety! Nearly had a chisel fly back and smack me in the face once. That sobered me up pretty quick, let me tell you. Safety glasses and a face shield became my best mates after that.
There was this one afternoon, I remember it as clear as day. I’d been trying to make a simple little honey dipper. You know, for a jar of honey. Should be dead easy, right? A few simple curves. Nope. I messed up three blanks in a row. The last one, it didn’t just crack, it practically disintegrated on the lathe. I just switched off the machine, threw the tool down on the bench – not aggressively, just… defeated. Stood there for a good ten minutes, just looking at the pile of ruined wood. Thought about selling the whole lot, lathe and all. Seriously. Figured maybe I was more of a ‘buy-it-from-the-shop’ kind of bloke.
But then, after a strong cuppa tea and a bit of a stern talking-to with myself, I went back out to the shed. Picked up a fresh piece of wood. Something a bit nicer this time, a small offcut of cherry I’d managed to scrounge. Slowed everything right down. Took my time. Watched some more videos, but this time really focusing on the why they held the tool a certain way, not just the how. Paid attention to the bevel rubbing, the tool rest height, all those little details I’d glossed over before.
And you know what? I managed it. A small, slightly lopsided, but definitely recognizable honey dipper. It wasn’t going to win any awards, not by a long shot. But it was mine. I’d wrestled it from that piece of wood, and I’d won. That was a proper ‘turner day’ for me – a real turning point, you could say. I’ve still got a massive amount to learn. Still make plenty of kindling. But now, those ‘turner days’ are a bit more about actually turning wood, and a little less about my stomach turning with pure frustration.
So yeah, that’s been my little adventure into this turning madness. It ain’t always pretty, and it’s definitely not as easy as it looks on the telly. But when it works, when you pull a finished piece off the lathe, it’s pretty darn satisfying. Stick with it, that’s the main thing I’ve learned. And maybe invest in a good dust collection system. Seriously. The amount of dust is unbelievable.
