Sunday, January 2, 2011
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
I returned to Barcelona last weekend with Gráinne, for her birthday. The heavy snow in Dublin caused us some problems; our flight was canceled and we re-booked for the following morning, making it off the ground with only a relatively minor delay (all things considered). It seems we were lucky to get there when we did and also lucky to return home when we did as there was a wildcat strike on the part of Spanish air traffic controllers, timed to coincide with the beginning of almost a week of days off for most Spaniards (and therefore significant numbers of people trying to fly to their holiday destinations). The government went a wee bit fascist and declared a "state of alert" during which the army was called in and controllers were threatened with serious prison sentences and apparently forced to work at gunpoint. Thankfully, flights appeared to be restored to normality by the time we left. All things considered, it was an unusually eventful time to be flying.
I snapped a few pics with my phone camera. Here we see the statue of Columbus at night time:
This is one of my favourite attractions in Barcelona. Columbus is said to point to the New World, but he is clearly, and bizarrely, pointing in the opposite direction (the theory that he is pointing towards his home in Genoa seems a bit conveniently a posteriori). The reason I like this column so much is that there is an entrance at the base of it that is not very easy to stumble across. It currently has a sign advertising a bus tour of the city and no other indication of what can be found inside. However, if one ventures in and pays a €3 admission fee, one gains access to a lift that runs up a shaft in the column to an observation point just below Columbus' feet.
The view from this point is not especially remarkable and doesn't compare to the likes of the views from Park Güell or Tibidabo, but it is unique in that it is the highest vantage point in the immediate area (not counting the cable-cars that run up to Montjuic in the summertime) and it affords a 360º view of the bottom of the Ramblas and the old harbour. It's especially worthwhile at night time, when the old port buildings and the yachts in the marina are lit up. This photo of the historic Port Authority building was taken by Gráinne from the top of Columbus' column:
At the end of the famous Ramblas (including the Rambla de Mar) is the Maremagnum shopping centre, which currently houses the world's largest Caganer:
A caganer is one of the bizarre traditional Catalán christmas traditions. It is a statue of a man wearing traditional Catalán dress, with his trousers around his ankles, defecating. There are a few explanations as to why this is included in Catalán nativity scenes and none of them are particularly convincing! Suffice to say that it is odd, but in a funny way. It is also fairly prevalent, with stalls in all the christmas markets selling an assortment of caganers, ranging from the traditional to depictions of celebrities like the pope and Barack Obama.
As mentioned elsewhere on this blog, I quite like Barcelona. One of the main reasons is the many indications that it has a strong anti-authoritarian counter-culture. I was reminded of this when I saw this bin:
Close-up of the sticker:
The local elections took place recently and the sticker on the bin translates roughly as "Place your vote here. This container doesn't steal or lie."
Another reason I like Barcelona is its vibrant and varied nightlife and culture. On our last night we went to see Osaka Monaurail, a Japanese funk group, in concert:
All in all, it was a successful trip. At 2 years, it had been too long since I last visited. In the future, I hope that my visits will become a lot more regular.
I snapped a few pics with my phone camera. Here we see the statue of Columbus at night time:
This is one of my favourite attractions in Barcelona. Columbus is said to point to the New World, but he is clearly, and bizarrely, pointing in the opposite direction (the theory that he is pointing towards his home in Genoa seems a bit conveniently a posteriori). The reason I like this column so much is that there is an entrance at the base of it that is not very easy to stumble across. It currently has a sign advertising a bus tour of the city and no other indication of what can be found inside. However, if one ventures in and pays a €3 admission fee, one gains access to a lift that runs up a shaft in the column to an observation point just below Columbus' feet.
The view from this point is not especially remarkable and doesn't compare to the likes of the views from Park Güell or Tibidabo, but it is unique in that it is the highest vantage point in the immediate area (not counting the cable-cars that run up to Montjuic in the summertime) and it affords a 360º view of the bottom of the Ramblas and the old harbour. It's especially worthwhile at night time, when the old port buildings and the yachts in the marina are lit up. This photo of the historic Port Authority building was taken by Gráinne from the top of Columbus' column:
At the end of the famous Ramblas (including the Rambla de Mar) is the Maremagnum shopping centre, which currently houses the world's largest Caganer:
A caganer is one of the bizarre traditional Catalán christmas traditions. It is a statue of a man wearing traditional Catalán dress, with his trousers around his ankles, defecating. There are a few explanations as to why this is included in Catalán nativity scenes and none of them are particularly convincing! Suffice to say that it is odd, but in a funny way. It is also fairly prevalent, with stalls in all the christmas markets selling an assortment of caganers, ranging from the traditional to depictions of celebrities like the pope and Barack Obama.
As mentioned elsewhere on this blog, I quite like Barcelona. One of the main reasons is the many indications that it has a strong anti-authoritarian counter-culture. I was reminded of this when I saw this bin:
Close-up of the sticker:
The local elections took place recently and the sticker on the bin translates roughly as "Place your vote here. This container doesn't steal or lie."
Another reason I like Barcelona is its vibrant and varied nightlife and culture. On our last night we went to see Osaka Monaurail, a Japanese funk group, in concert:
All in all, it was a successful trip. At 2 years, it had been too long since I last visited. In the future, I hope that my visits will become a lot more regular.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Kwakfest 2010
Some friends of mine and I are particularly fond of Pauwel Kwak, a Belgian beer. One of said friends happens to live in Brussels. When these two facts were combined, the result was Kwakfest 2010. Here are some pictures:
Kwak, served in the traditional coachman's glass:
We also sampled other Belgian beers. I rather enjoyed Tongerlo's Christmas beer, which was served with complimentary cheese:
Naturally, beer consumption leads to silly photos and shenanigans:
The delirium bar, which serves a staggeringly large variety of beer, and which lists it in a beer menu the size of a phone book:
The ceiling of the Delirium bar is decorated with many interesting beer trays from around the world:
The Christmas tree was lit with a rather spectacular light show in the Grand Place in Brussels. Unfortunately, we stumbled on it as we were passing by and this is the only shot of it that is actually in focus:
Those of us who traveled were mostly players from a single ultimate team (Captain Drinking Binge; a.k.a. "Binge?"). We have visited many European cities many times to compete in ultimate tournaments, and we have always commented on how it is a shame that we are too busy playing ultimate to really get to appreciate what these cities have to offer. Kwakfest is then a sort of an ultimate tournament without the ultimate and a lot more beer-drinking.
It's somewhat ironic that, despite the fact that for the last year we have had to pull out of tournaments due to a lack of numbers (many of us have emigrated to various parts of the world and more of us are planning on doing so in the near future), when we announced a non-ultimate trip we had more than enough players to play in a weekend tournament. Perhaps the reason we are a team is less about the ultimate and more about the friendship. I think that's a very important quality in a team. I look forward to future ultimate tournaments and to Kwakfest 2011.
Kwak, served in the traditional coachman's glass:
We also sampled other Belgian beers. I rather enjoyed Tongerlo's Christmas beer, which was served with complimentary cheese:
Naturally, beer consumption leads to silly photos and shenanigans:
The delirium bar, which serves a staggeringly large variety of beer, and which lists it in a beer menu the size of a phone book:
The ceiling of the Delirium bar is decorated with many interesting beer trays from around the world:
The Christmas tree was lit with a rather spectacular light show in the Grand Place in Brussels. Unfortunately, we stumbled on it as we were passing by and this is the only shot of it that is actually in focus:
Those of us who traveled were mostly players from a single ultimate team (Captain Drinking Binge; a.k.a. "Binge?"). We have visited many European cities many times to compete in ultimate tournaments, and we have always commented on how it is a shame that we are too busy playing ultimate to really get to appreciate what these cities have to offer. Kwakfest is then a sort of an ultimate tournament without the ultimate and a lot more beer-drinking.
It's somewhat ironic that, despite the fact that for the last year we have had to pull out of tournaments due to a lack of numbers (many of us have emigrated to various parts of the world and more of us are planning on doing so in the near future), when we announced a non-ultimate trip we had more than enough players to play in a weekend tournament. Perhaps the reason we are a team is less about the ultimate and more about the friendship. I think that's a very important quality in a team. I look forward to future ultimate tournaments and to Kwakfest 2011.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Las Palmas
I was sorting through a bunch of pics that were on my camera after I was done with the ukulele stuff and I came across these. They are from a trip to Las Palmas de Gran Canaria a few months ago. My supervisor published a a paper at a conference there but was unable to attend, so I took one for the team and volunteered to spend a few days in the Canary Islands. One of the perks of being a reasonably well-funded PhD student, such as myself, is that you get to travel to cool places. Usually you have to attend at least part of a conference and give some sort of talk or something but this time all I had to do was present somebody else's paper. I was pretty relaxed about it because if the crowd slated it, it wasn't really my problem as it wasn't my work; but at the same time it was very close to my work so I was able to give the impression that I knew what I was talking about.
I did a bit of sight-seeing when I was there. Although I used to live on La Palma, I only visited Gran Canaria a handful of times: once when I was about three or four and too young to remember anything except the Sahara-like dunes at Maspalomas and a couple of times when the boat to Cádiz stopped off for a few hours in Las Palmas and we got off to have a look around. I never really got an opportunity to explore the city and get to know the place until this trip.
Most of the pictures I took were of Vegueta, which is the old town, where the original military encampment was setup to subdue the aboriginal Guanche population and claim the island for Spain. As tends to be the case, it is centered around a main square with a cathedral:
There are a number of statues in front of the cathedral of different types of dogs. They are a reference to the origin of the name of the Canary Islands (from the latin Insula Canaria, meaning the Island of Dogs).
There is a fountain near the cathedral which is unusual in that it is covered. According to the official tourist pamphlet for the city, the locals say that it is covered so that it won't get wet when it rains. I think this sense of humour is one of the key aspects that distinguish the people of the Canary Islands from the rest of Spain. It is also probably a reason why, as an Irish family, we felt quite at home when we lived there.
The same pamphlet also says that the fountain was built during a particularly prosperous time for the city (which has had many very prosperous times as it was an important port for ships sailing to the new world and was also important for ships intent on getting to the Indian Ocean before the Suez Canal was opened (or during times when it was imprudent to venture into that part of the world)). This prosperity is reflected in the buildings that surround the fountain, many of them sporting typical embellishments of the period. Although these buildings are not open to the public, if nobody is around and you are not in a large group, it is worth wandering through any open doors to see what there is to be seen. I came across a statued courtyard with an old fresco and a particularly intricately decorated doorway depicting an armoured Spanish soldier.
The rest of the old town is less opulent, but very distinctly Canarian. The following pictures show different streets in Vegueta, but they could have been taken in just about any old city in the Canary Islands. At times as I was wandering around these streets, I almost felt like I was back home in Santa Cruz de La Palma.
Unfortunately, the modern part of the city of Las Palmas is not particularly attractive (although the beach is nice) and so I didn't really take any good pictures of it. Instead, I travelled to the nearby town of Arucas, which is the home of the famous (within the Canary Islands, at least!) Arehucas rum.
The Arehucas Rum Distillery, known locally as La Fábrica (The Factory), dominates the skyline with its imposing chimney. Those who arrive for a tour, like myself, are greeted by a statue of its founder, who is the grandfather of the current managing director. The tour itself is exceptionally informal. Upon arrival, I was asked to wait in a small room, where I was joined by a Spanish and a German couple. After about ten minutes, what appeared to be the foreman arrived and asked us to follow him.
The tour began in the main bodega, where they store the oldest rum. The barrels are mostly autographed by local and international celebrities, ranging from the local Las Palmas football team to Julio Iglesias and are probably worth a small fortune by themselves. We were guided around the barrels, then through to the factory itself where we saw the workers operating the various machines used for actually making the rum and packaging it in boxes. There didn't appear to be a script or anything; instead we wandered through and asked questions as they occurred to us. Occasionally we were introduced to somebody operating an interesting machine, but other than that the few workers present just went about their business. This was a significant contrast to other brewery/distillery tours that I have been on where there is a guided and scripted tour. I think I prefer the Arehucas approach.
The tour ended in the tasting room. The Factory makes several different varieties of rum and a few other liqueurs and spirits. Our guide opened a bottle of all except the 25-year-old variety, poduced a tray of shot glasses and asked us to help ourselves. I sampled four or five different varieties, all of which were delicious. The best part was that there was no suggestion of having to pay for any of it. The entire tour, from start to finish, was free. At the end of it, I visited the factory shop where I was able to buy three bottles of rum at factory prices. It is definitely the best distillery tour I have ever been on and the high-point of my visit to Las Palmas.
I did a bit of sight-seeing when I was there. Although I used to live on La Palma, I only visited Gran Canaria a handful of times: once when I was about three or four and too young to remember anything except the Sahara-like dunes at Maspalomas and a couple of times when the boat to Cádiz stopped off for a few hours in Las Palmas and we got off to have a look around. I never really got an opportunity to explore the city and get to know the place until this trip.
Most of the pictures I took were of Vegueta, which is the old town, where the original military encampment was setup to subdue the aboriginal Guanche population and claim the island for Spain. As tends to be the case, it is centered around a main square with a cathedral:
There are a number of statues in front of the cathedral of different types of dogs. They are a reference to the origin of the name of the Canary Islands (from the latin Insula Canaria, meaning the Island of Dogs).
There is a fountain near the cathedral which is unusual in that it is covered. According to the official tourist pamphlet for the city, the locals say that it is covered so that it won't get wet when it rains. I think this sense of humour is one of the key aspects that distinguish the people of the Canary Islands from the rest of Spain. It is also probably a reason why, as an Irish family, we felt quite at home when we lived there.
The same pamphlet also says that the fountain was built during a particularly prosperous time for the city (which has had many very prosperous times as it was an important port for ships sailing to the new world and was also important for ships intent on getting to the Indian Ocean before the Suez Canal was opened (or during times when it was imprudent to venture into that part of the world)). This prosperity is reflected in the buildings that surround the fountain, many of them sporting typical embellishments of the period. Although these buildings are not open to the public, if nobody is around and you are not in a large group, it is worth wandering through any open doors to see what there is to be seen. I came across a statued courtyard with an old fresco and a particularly intricately decorated doorway depicting an armoured Spanish soldier.
The rest of the old town is less opulent, but very distinctly Canarian. The following pictures show different streets in Vegueta, but they could have been taken in just about any old city in the Canary Islands. At times as I was wandering around these streets, I almost felt like I was back home in Santa Cruz de La Palma.
Unfortunately, the modern part of the city of Las Palmas is not particularly attractive (although the beach is nice) and so I didn't really take any good pictures of it. Instead, I travelled to the nearby town of Arucas, which is the home of the famous (within the Canary Islands, at least!) Arehucas rum.
The Arehucas Rum Distillery, known locally as La Fábrica (The Factory), dominates the skyline with its imposing chimney. Those who arrive for a tour, like myself, are greeted by a statue of its founder, who is the grandfather of the current managing director. The tour itself is exceptionally informal. Upon arrival, I was asked to wait in a small room, where I was joined by a Spanish and a German couple. After about ten minutes, what appeared to be the foreman arrived and asked us to follow him.
The tour began in the main bodega, where they store the oldest rum. The barrels are mostly autographed by local and international celebrities, ranging from the local Las Palmas football team to Julio Iglesias and are probably worth a small fortune by themselves. We were guided around the barrels, then through to the factory itself where we saw the workers operating the various machines used for actually making the rum and packaging it in boxes. There didn't appear to be a script or anything; instead we wandered through and asked questions as they occurred to us. Occasionally we were introduced to somebody operating an interesting machine, but other than that the few workers present just went about their business. This was a significant contrast to other brewery/distillery tours that I have been on where there is a guided and scripted tour. I think I prefer the Arehucas approach.
The tour ended in the tasting room. The Factory makes several different varieties of rum and a few other liqueurs and spirits. Our guide opened a bottle of all except the 25-year-old variety, poduced a tray of shot glasses and asked us to help ourselves. I sampled four or five different varieties, all of which were delicious. The best part was that there was no suggestion of having to pay for any of it. The entire tour, from start to finish, was free. At the end of it, I visited the factory shop where I was able to buy three bottles of rum at factory prices. It is definitely the best distillery tour I have ever been on and the high-point of my visit to Las Palmas.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
More ukulele
So here is an update on my lutherie progress. I have an almost-working ukulele, but I have discovered it is fatally flawed. The plank I used for the neck was warped (I have since learned that an important rule in carpentry is to never just assume that something is straight!) and so the first three frets are unplayable. Other than that, it plays just like one would expect. It keeps its tune quite well and there are no intonation problems that I'm aware of.
Here are some pics:
This is a pic of the bridge being attached. The masking tape outlines the position of the bridge. I made a slight mistake when attaching it and so the strings are slightly off-centre, though still playable.
I neglected to take pictures of the process of attaching the neck. I didn't have the tools or the expertise for a traditional mortise and tenon joint, so I went with a bolt-on solution. However, I didn't find much free information about this online, so I kind of made it up as I went along. I sunk some threaded brass inserts into the base of the neck and then bolted it to the cigar box body, through a length of mahogany that I used for purposes of reinforcement. The shape and size of this reinforcement will be the subject of future research as I am unsure how it affects the sound.
This picture shows the attachment of the bridge-plate. I'm still not sure that I needed one, but the cigar box was starting to split slightly around the sound-hole, so I wanted to add as much reinforcement as possible. I subsequently added a thin strip of mahogany near the sound-hole for further reinforcement.
These two pics show the final version of the uke. As I mentioned it is somewhat unplayable on the first three frets. I altered the height of the bridge to compensate to a certain extent, but it just resulted in very high action and only a slight improvement.
As a result of all this, I won't bother finishing it (fine sanding, varnishing, etc.). I will just move onto the next one. I have a stack of cigar boxes and mahogany. I just need to find a straight piece for the neck! I also plan to purchase the Left Brain Lutherie book and do a little reading to better understand the way the ukulele works.
Here are some pics:
This is a pic of the bridge being attached. The masking tape outlines the position of the bridge. I made a slight mistake when attaching it and so the strings are slightly off-centre, though still playable.
I neglected to take pictures of the process of attaching the neck. I didn't have the tools or the expertise for a traditional mortise and tenon joint, so I went with a bolt-on solution. However, I didn't find much free information about this online, so I kind of made it up as I went along. I sunk some threaded brass inserts into the base of the neck and then bolted it to the cigar box body, through a length of mahogany that I used for purposes of reinforcement. The shape and size of this reinforcement will be the subject of future research as I am unsure how it affects the sound.
This picture shows the attachment of the bridge-plate. I'm still not sure that I needed one, but the cigar box was starting to split slightly around the sound-hole, so I wanted to add as much reinforcement as possible. I subsequently added a thin strip of mahogany near the sound-hole for further reinforcement.
These two pics show the final version of the uke. As I mentioned it is somewhat unplayable on the first three frets. I altered the height of the bridge to compensate to a certain extent, but it just resulted in very high action and only a slight improvement.
As a result of all this, I won't bother finishing it (fine sanding, varnishing, etc.). I will just move onto the next one. I have a stack of cigar boxes and mahogany. I just need to find a straight piece for the neck! I also plan to purchase the Left Brain Lutherie book and do a little reading to better understand the way the ukulele works.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Cigar Box Ukulele
I recently started playing the ukulele. I was on a beach in Italy in April (at Paganello) and I met a few guys with ukuleles. We played against a team from New Zealand and they sang us a song, accompanied by a uke. Afterwards I went and had a look at it and decided that I needed to get one. So I bought a cheap soprano and started playing. About a month afterwards, I bought a not-so-cheap tenor and started playing a little better. And a month after that I decided I was going to try my hand at building a ukulele myself.
So I did a lot of reading online and came to the conclusion that building instruments is really hard. Who knew? I also came across cigar box instruments and decided that I would build a cigar box ukulele. The reason for this is that building a "normal" ukulele involves bending wood to make the sides and a lot of fairly intricate woodword to build a body that sounds decent. I have absolutely zero woodworking skills and so I decided to go with the cigar box approach because it would, in theory, be easier. Also, when I eventually make a mess of it, all I will have done is ruin an empty cigar box.
So I bought a few tools online: a saw, a spokeshave, some chisels, etc. Then I bought some more. Then I started building and I soon realised I needed more, so I bought some cabinet rasps, some clamps, a workbench, all kinds of files and plenty of very specialist tools for installing frets, etc.
As for materials, I built a test neck out of spruce, just to see if I could do it. I didn't make a terrible mess of it, so I acquired some lengths of mahogany and quite a lot of cigar boxes of various shapes and sizes. I ordered tuning pegs, pre-slotted fretboards and material for making bridges, saddles, nuts, etc. from various web sites and got cracking.
I haven't documented the process as much as I would like to have done, but I have taken a few pictures. Although the ukulele is still not complete, I will put some of them up here as a progress indicator (and also probably because I am procrastinating and probably won't get around to putting up more pics for a long time).
As a disclaimer, I should say that I have made multiple mistakes on this particular uke. I have learned quite a lot from the process so far and expect that the next one I make will look a lot more respectable! So if you are an experienced luthier, keep in mind that this is a first, self-taught attempt. Come back in 5 years and I'll have something worth showing off. :-)
This picture shows the first stage. A length of mahogany is cut into three blocks, which are glued together to form the heel of the neck. A section at the other end of the neck is then cut off at an angle and glued on to form the headstock. In this particular ukulele, I didn't glue any ears to the headstock. In hindsight, I think this was a mistake as the tuning pegs are very close to each other.
These pictures illustrate the process of shaping the neck. As can be seen, I used hand tools (a chisel for the rough shaping and then a spoke shave and a cabinet rasp for the rest). The end result is somewhat odd. Everything is slightly off centre. I suppose you could say it adds character, if you were feeling charitable! As with most things, I suspect that perfection comes after many imperfect iterations.
This is a shot of a shaped, unsanded neck. The headstock still needs some attention, but it is starting to look like a ukulele neck. Notice I left a block at the heel of the neck. It was my original intention to make a traditional dovetail joint for joining it to the body, but I made a couple of practise joints and they weren't up to scratch, so I ended up cutting off that block of wood and I will be attaching the neck to the body using bolts. I should probably also mention here that I'm not using a truss rod or anything. I don't know how necessary it will be on a neck this size (tenor) so I am experimenting.
These pictures show the pre-slotted fretboard (I didn't trust myself to get the slots right on my first attempt) and some fretting supplies. Luthier supplies are expensive!
Here is a shot of the neck with frets installed. They aren't 100% finished, but I think they look reasonable enough here. I added some mother of pearl dots in as an after-thought. I know absolutely nothing about adding dots and didn't even look it up online, so I'm not sure if I went about it right. I made some holes by hand with a drill bit, filled them with superglue and pressed in the dots, then sanded them flush with the fretboard (I think I should have done this before fretting!) I know they're all slightly off-centre but this uke is more about getting something built than aesthetics, so I'm not too bothered about it.
This picture shows the neck as it nears completion. The fretboard is cut down to size and glued on; the frets are all seated (although some of them still need some attention); the headstock has some tuning pegs attached, in a fairly haphazard manner (hopefully there will be no major issues when I string the uke) and the bottom of the fretboard is cut in a circular shape where it will meet the sound hole of the body. I also have a corian nut that hasn't been glued on yet.
This is one of the cigar boxes I acquired. It's a large-ish box, suitable for a tenor uke. I don't know what it's made of, but I like the look of it. It feels pretty solid and seems well-built.
Here is a shot of the cigar box with a sound hole cut. I used a special drill attachment for sawing holes. It came out a little rough, but I sanded down and it doesn't look too bad now.
Here is a preview of what the uke will look like. The neck and the bridge aren't glued on yet - they're just arranged into position to get an idea of what the finished product will look like.
And that's what I have done so far. I plan on attaching the neck early next week, assuming that the threaded inserts I ordered online are suitable for the job. Then I will glue on the bridge, make a few finishing touches and adjust the action of the strings and it should be ready to play. I will probably spray on some simple furniture varnish for now and consider something more elaborate for future projects. The cheapness of the varnish can seems somehow in keeping with the spirit of making an instrument out of an old cigar box.
And that's all for now. Stay tuned for more updates. Hopefully the next time I will be able to include a sound file of how it plays.
So I did a lot of reading online and came to the conclusion that building instruments is really hard. Who knew? I also came across cigar box instruments and decided that I would build a cigar box ukulele. The reason for this is that building a "normal" ukulele involves bending wood to make the sides and a lot of fairly intricate woodword to build a body that sounds decent. I have absolutely zero woodworking skills and so I decided to go with the cigar box approach because it would, in theory, be easier. Also, when I eventually make a mess of it, all I will have done is ruin an empty cigar box.
So I bought a few tools online: a saw, a spokeshave, some chisels, etc. Then I bought some more. Then I started building and I soon realised I needed more, so I bought some cabinet rasps, some clamps, a workbench, all kinds of files and plenty of very specialist tools for installing frets, etc.
As for materials, I built a test neck out of spruce, just to see if I could do it. I didn't make a terrible mess of it, so I acquired some lengths of mahogany and quite a lot of cigar boxes of various shapes and sizes. I ordered tuning pegs, pre-slotted fretboards and material for making bridges, saddles, nuts, etc. from various web sites and got cracking.
I haven't documented the process as much as I would like to have done, but I have taken a few pictures. Although the ukulele is still not complete, I will put some of them up here as a progress indicator (and also probably because I am procrastinating and probably won't get around to putting up more pics for a long time).
As a disclaimer, I should say that I have made multiple mistakes on this particular uke. I have learned quite a lot from the process so far and expect that the next one I make will look a lot more respectable! So if you are an experienced luthier, keep in mind that this is a first, self-taught attempt. Come back in 5 years and I'll have something worth showing off. :-)
This picture shows the first stage. A length of mahogany is cut into three blocks, which are glued together to form the heel of the neck. A section at the other end of the neck is then cut off at an angle and glued on to form the headstock. In this particular ukulele, I didn't glue any ears to the headstock. In hindsight, I think this was a mistake as the tuning pegs are very close to each other.
These pictures illustrate the process of shaping the neck. As can be seen, I used hand tools (a chisel for the rough shaping and then a spoke shave and a cabinet rasp for the rest). The end result is somewhat odd. Everything is slightly off centre. I suppose you could say it adds character, if you were feeling charitable! As with most things, I suspect that perfection comes after many imperfect iterations.
This is a shot of a shaped, unsanded neck. The headstock still needs some attention, but it is starting to look like a ukulele neck. Notice I left a block at the heel of the neck. It was my original intention to make a traditional dovetail joint for joining it to the body, but I made a couple of practise joints and they weren't up to scratch, so I ended up cutting off that block of wood and I will be attaching the neck to the body using bolts. I should probably also mention here that I'm not using a truss rod or anything. I don't know how necessary it will be on a neck this size (tenor) so I am experimenting.
These pictures show the pre-slotted fretboard (I didn't trust myself to get the slots right on my first attempt) and some fretting supplies. Luthier supplies are expensive!
Here is a shot of the neck with frets installed. They aren't 100% finished, but I think they look reasonable enough here. I added some mother of pearl dots in as an after-thought. I know absolutely nothing about adding dots and didn't even look it up online, so I'm not sure if I went about it right. I made some holes by hand with a drill bit, filled them with superglue and pressed in the dots, then sanded them flush with the fretboard (I think I should have done this before fretting!) I know they're all slightly off-centre but this uke is more about getting something built than aesthetics, so I'm not too bothered about it.
This picture shows the neck as it nears completion. The fretboard is cut down to size and glued on; the frets are all seated (although some of them still need some attention); the headstock has some tuning pegs attached, in a fairly haphazard manner (hopefully there will be no major issues when I string the uke) and the bottom of the fretboard is cut in a circular shape where it will meet the sound hole of the body. I also have a corian nut that hasn't been glued on yet.
This is one of the cigar boxes I acquired. It's a large-ish box, suitable for a tenor uke. I don't know what it's made of, but I like the look of it. It feels pretty solid and seems well-built.
Here is a shot of the cigar box with a sound hole cut. I used a special drill attachment for sawing holes. It came out a little rough, but I sanded down and it doesn't look too bad now.
Here is a preview of what the uke will look like. The neck and the bridge aren't glued on yet - they're just arranged into position to get an idea of what the finished product will look like.
And that's what I have done so far. I plan on attaching the neck early next week, assuming that the threaded inserts I ordered online are suitable for the job. Then I will glue on the bridge, make a few finishing touches and adjust the action of the strings and it should be ready to play. I will probably spray on some simple furniture varnish for now and consider something more elaborate for future projects. The cheapness of the varnish can seems somehow in keeping with the spirit of making an instrument out of an old cigar box.
And that's all for now. Stay tuned for more updates. Hopefully the next time I will be able to include a sound file of how it plays.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Recipes that Scale
I was reading Paul Graham's essay about Ramen Profitability and what caught my attention the most was this footnote. It is a recipe for rice and beans, which is apparently healthier than ramen noodles (I am entertained by the fact that Paul feels enough responsibility for his aspiring web entrepreneur audience to go to the trouble of making sure they eat right, but that's not what this is about).
The interesting thing about this recipe is that it is for 2n people and the ingredients are listed throughout in terms of n. This seems like a particularly elegant way of specifying a recipe. I like to experiment with recipes I find on the web quite a bit, but more often than not it is a recipe that "serves 6" or some similarly useless number for a singleton chef such as myself. So I try the recipe anyway, but first I have to adjust the ingredient list accordingly. It's a simple thing, but expressing the recipe in terms of n makes it easier, in my mind at least, to adapt a recipe. I wish all recipe writers would make their recipes generic and scalable like this.
The interesting thing about this recipe is that it is for 2n people and the ingredients are listed throughout in terms of n. This seems like a particularly elegant way of specifying a recipe. I like to experiment with recipes I find on the web quite a bit, but more often than not it is a recipe that "serves 6" or some similarly useless number for a singleton chef such as myself. So I try the recipe anyway, but first I have to adjust the ingredient list accordingly. It's a simple thing, but expressing the recipe in terms of n makes it easier, in my mind at least, to adapt a recipe. I wish all recipe writers would make their recipes generic and scalable like this.
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