Every time I finish a woodworking project, I feel an overwhelming compulsion to clean my shop. The accumulated dust and debris and clutter has become almost overwhelming and I absolutely must clear it all out rightnowthisveryminutebeforeIgonuts. I blame both of my parents for this: my dad is a neat freak and my mother is, by temperament, the opposite of that. In a stroke of comic genius, God gave me both traits simultaneously. So while I’m working, I make this explosion of mess in the shop. Tools are hanging from the rafters, sawdust is knee-high, lumber is leaning against every wall. The longer the project goes, the greater the mess, and the greater my grumpiness. Until finally, there’s catharsis and purging, the sweet relief of organizing and sweeping and putting away. Then, when everything is buttoned up and tidy, I can survey the shop with satisfaction, a half-smile on my face, and prepare for the next project.

So what’s going on with that? For me, I don’t think it’s a control thing. I think it’s more about needing to start with a blank, clean sheet of paper.  Clear out the old and start fresh each time.

That idea of starting fresh is a powerful one, and an ancient one. In Judaism, there’s Yom Kippur, the Holy Day on which one’s slate is wiped clean. For that day, at least, you are starting anew, with the hope of a fresh start.  There’s also Lamentations 3:21-23 in the Old Testament, offering a clean slate each day:

Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:
Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

Then there’s New Year’s Day, where we start over again. We make resolutions to start new things or end old things. We place new hopes in this new year. Unless we’re Mayans… because then we pretty much think we’re screwed.

Then there’s Aristotle, who talked about the Tabula Rasa (blank slate) we are at birth. Everything is fresh and new and possible… until and unless we muck it all up.

So I guess my shop compulsion is not particularly unique. We all want a fresh start.

A month ago, I picked up this old woodworking vise at an estate sale for a few bucks. It’s a neat old thing, manufactured in Cleveland in the mid 1920’s:

1925 Columbian Woodworking Vise mfg in Cleveland, Ohio

In the spirit of starting fresh, I decided the vise needed a home, so I built a big honking work-bench to house it:

Solid workbench made of laminated strips of 2 inch European Beech

Then I decided all that space under the new workbench was going to waste, so I made 10 new drawers, with dovetails and all that fancy stuff:

Workbench, after cabinetry

Then I decided that I might as well just totally re-do and re-organize the shop, which I have just completed today. This compulsion is getting out of hand, I guess. But I feel so much better now. I can even see the floor.

I will be starting a new project soon, an executive desk made of walnut and mesquite. At the request of a few people, I’m going to document the design and building process on this project on my blog. Stay tuned, more to come.

Happy New Year!