GET INLAID

So I took off the hand tool, chucked the usual router bit, and commenced to routing the piece I outlined the other night. I vowed to go slowly, and only move when I could see, and that seemed to go better. I also cranked the speed up on the router bit step, figuring if it helped me with the smaller bit with controlling the router, it could conceivably help me with the bigger one. It seems to have; I was feeling good about my routing accuracy and care. As I went, I collected sawdust in case I needed it for filler.

It went a lot better, though I could see a few rough spots that would need smoothing later.

The proof would be in dry-fitting the pieces. Already, I could see that there were going to be problematic gaps. I was really, really careful to stay inside the lines I’d done on the first past with the needlepoint dental burr, but it wasn’t enough.

I am convinced that I am not scribing closely enough; I really think that’s where the problem is. Even with the needlepoint scribe, I’m still on the outside of the piece of shell, creating a bigger crevice as I scribe hard enough into the wood to see the line. Every micrometer counts in terms of accuracy on this. My plan for the next project is to use a technique described in one of my inlay books, wherein you apply tempera paint (I’ll use acrylic, because that’s what I have) to the wood, and LIGHTLY scribe the line on prior to routing. Since I won’t be trying to dig into the wood, I’m hypothesizing that the scribe will move more fluidly over the paint and get in nice and close without digging an automatically too-wide trough beyond the piece, as the scribing does. And then I’ll just use that as the boundary and rout inside it. Of course, by that token, I could just use pencil or water-based felt-tip marker and make sure I never go past the line and save the painting step. Maybe I’ll try the pencil one first, since it’ll save me sanding the paint off. If I’m still not happy, I’ll try the paint option.

After dry-fitting all the pieces, I found several that were not fitting and sticking up instead.

I decided to do the clean-up via the third step of the 3-step process I found, and use a ball-end dental burr to clean up where I didn’t get deep enough with the needlepoint burr when I first outlined. The theory here is you’re cleaning up the cavity on the bottom rather than making it wider.

It worked pretty well, but I still had to put the needlepoint burr back in to get into the tips of vine ends. I tell you, I have a whole new appreciation for my dentist now, using all these tools to so delicately fix teeth. I decided to go a piece at a time, dry-fitting it, working slowly to smooth or expand the cavity only enough to get the piece in. When I did, I taped it in so it would stay put as I fitted the next one, and didn’t get sucked up in the vacuum when I stopped to clean sawdust out of my way.

And here it is, ready for gluing.

I didn’t want to take it out again—every time you handle it, you risk breaking a piece—so I just flooded the cavity with superglue with the shell in place. It seemed fine, and had the added bonus of less slop for me to have to sand out later. The superglue that soaks in changes the grain ever-so-slightly and I can’t seem to sand deep enough to get it all out.

After I let the glue dry, I was thinking about what to do with the gaps, because the sawdust was neither plentiful nor perfect enough to fill it in, and always has an odd shine from the superglue. So I got a brainstorm—I’ll put a layer of wood filler on it to fill the gaps. Which I did, knowing I might regret it, but we’re experimenting here. And I left it to sit overnight.

Sunday afternoon, then, I sanded. And I regretted the filler. BIG mistake. It was way wrong in color, and far more obnoxious than the superglue alone was. It would not be inaccurate to say that it ruined the project.

Here’s the whole thing:

And close-ups of the damage:

Ah well. This was as challenging a practice piece as I expected it to be, and then some, and I learned plenty, once again proving the truth that we learn more from our mistakes than our successes. Even as I look at this piece, and previous ones, I can see places where the fit is perfect, so I’m capable of good cutting and routing, even if I’m scarily inconsistent about it. There’s hope. I will continue undaunted. Onward!