peteyfrogboy: (rook)
There's been a discussion over on the Elizabethan Costume Facebook group about 16th century belts, sword hangers, etc., and how they stay in place along the curve of a peascod doublet. I've built a couple of belts with hook clasps in front that stay in place fine on their own, but I've never had a sword to hang on them, so I didn't know how well it would work. I wanted to see how the physics would work, so I banged out a mockup out of cardboard, metal scraps, and a piece of leather lace. I tried it both at my hips and higher up. The weight of the sword was mostly on my leg; the force on the belt was mostly pulling sideways, not down. You can see the effect on the front clip, which is being pulled to the side. It seems to me that a belt that stays in place without a sword hanger would not be pulled out of place by the addition of one.

test-hanger6
test-hanger5
test-hanger4
test-hanger3
test-hanger2
test-hanger1
peteyfrogboy: (rook)

I saw some paintings this morning that I hadn’t run across before. A few interesting bits stood out to me. First were two paintings of the Feast of St. George by Pieter Balten.

Picture 1

Here we can see a vigorous line dance being led from one end, without couples (though genders seem to alternate until they run out of men). On the left are two other dancers executing what appears to be an under-the-arm turn.

Picture 2

Here is another instance of a woman turning under the arm of a man.

Picture 4

This is a very clear depiction of a play being performed, with a curtained off backstage area.

Maerten van Cleve’s Parable of the Blind shows a good angle on a codpiece (martingale?).

Picture 3

This Lucas Gassel landscape has a nice layout of a tennis court:

Picture 5


Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

During a recent discussion about Chivalry, I looked up a list of Chivalric Virtues. Most of them are fairly self explanatory, or at least easy enough to understand once defined. One that crops up often, yet is variously and vaguely defined, is Franchise. It is often said to encompass freedom of action, noble bearing, or exemplifying the other virtues, but what does this mean in practical terms? How can it be put into practice in a way that is useful in the real world?

It can be hard for a modern person to feel comfortable emulating the Medieval notion of Franchise, couched as it often is in terms of nobility and gentle birth. Our egalitarian conditioning shies away from this sort of thinking. But in the SCA we have titles, awards, offices, and Peerages, which are bestowed upon us in recognition of our nature and our deeds. I think that perhaps Franchise is the ability to accept and take ownership of the station to which one has been raised, gracefully and without false modesty. In this way it is the opposite of impostor syndrome, and thus lends the aforementioned “noble bearing” to one’s actions and demeanor. A sword must be gripped with conviction to strike a telling blow.

This interpretation of Franchise must, of course, be tempered by Humility, just as Prowess is tempered by Compassion, and Courage by Prudence. These are not opposing notions, but complementary to each other. Chivalry is not defined by one Virtue alone, but all of them together and in balance.


Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

For lack of a better term, let’s call this thing on the front of the doublet a “plastron“. I started with two layers of the yellow cotton, quilted together on the machine. The velvet was basted on the front side, wrapped around the edges and tacked down. I managed to squeeze a lining out of the remnants of the black linen and attached it by hand. Finally, I applied a border of red velvet ribbon:

romanino-bib1

I pinned it onto the doublet and played with the position a little. I think it will end up about here:romanino-bib2

The belt in that picture is just a couple scraps of purple linen tied around. I’d like to do something involving black silk scarves, but I haven’t decided where to get them from yet. The current plan is to tack the corners down on one side, and fasten the other side with hooks and eyes I made from copper wire:

romanino-hooks


Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

I wanted to have big sleeves on this doublet, but didn’t want to have too many layers going on. Hopefully they’ll work out okay. I started with a black linen inner sleeve, with velvet on the lower half:

romanino-sleeve-1Then I cut a nice big upper sleeve from the velvet. The plan was to have fullness at the shoulder and above the elbow, but not under the arm.

romanino-sleeve-2I sewed a strip of the yellow cotton to the bottom edge of the upper sleeve, turned it, gathered up cartridge pleats (except under the arm) and sewed up the seam. Then I attached the inner and outer sleeves at the shoulder, pleating in the fullness with 8 knife pleats.

romanino-sleeve-3The cartridge pleats were then tacked down by hand around the elbow. I think the end result could use more fullness in the middle, but I’m not sure that extra layers in the upper sleeve would help that much. There’s certainly plenty of shape given by the cartridge pleating, so hopefully that will be enough.

romanino-sleeve-4


Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

The body of the doublet went together without too much hassle. The main fabric is a black velvet that I was given by my Laurel on the occasion of my elevation. I’ve been sitting on it for years, waiting for the right project to come along. Hopefully I chose correctly. The body is interlined with one layer of a medium weight yellow cotton that no one in my family should ever wear on its own. The body is lined with lightweight red linen, and the skirt is lined with a medium weight black linen.

romanino-body-1The velvet was basted to the interlining, then sewn together at the sides and shoulders. The lining was sewn up the same way and then machine sewn along the bottom edge, turned, and hand topstitched. Then the center front and neck opening were basted together and a wide black linen facing was attached by machine and finished by hand. Finally, the arm holes were turned under and hand finished.

romanino-body-2

romanino-body-3The edges of the doublet are decorated with a stiff red velveteen ribbon that I got for next to nothing from a floral shop that was going out of business. It’s crinkly and has a tendency to shred at the ends, so I have some worries about its long term viability. In the worst case scenario, I’ll have to replace all the trim, but that’s not the end of the world.The center front is open at the top, and closes lower down with five sets of hooks and eyes. There’s some gapping there, but it will all be covered later so it’s not a big deal.

romanino-body-4

The skirt presented a bit of a problem at first. The corners curled under terribly, and it just didn’t look very good. By the time I realized the problem, I was way too far down the road to go back and rethink the construction. Instead, I ended up cutting small strips of flexible plastic cutting board and stuck them under the trim at the corners to serve as stays:

romanino-body-5

That seems to have more or less solved the problem. You can also see the shirt I made for this doublet (sans cuffs). It’s based essentially on Jen Thompson’s tried and true chemise technique. Next, sleeves!


Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

I have been wanting to make a doublet from the 1510-20ish range for a while now, but I hadn’t quite gotten started on it. I’ve been collecting images, and I built the hose I’ll need when I made my Veronese suit. I was still waffling on how to begin when Countess Gwen issued her Little Black Dress Challenge. Apparently that was the kick I needed to actually get serious about this thing.

First, as usual, I needed to find some reference images. I’ve been wanting to make the doublet in this 1516 Romanino portrait for ages:

Unfortunately, there’s some important information missing. How does it close, exactly? Is there a skirt? Does it come in black? Let’s look at some others. Here’s another Romanino portrait:

Okay, now we have black with gold trim, plus a pretty awesome hat. So far, so good. Still nothing below the waist, though. We also have the funny mid-chest bib thing over the open center front closure. Interesting, but still hard to work out the mechanics of it.

Okay, Franciabigio (1522) gives us some more here. Basic black (dark blue? let’s call it black), no trim, fancy hat, so I can dress it down a bit if I want. The half-bib thing again, still no skirt.

And here we have Bronzino (1527-28) for the win! It’s a touch later, but still with many of the same elements. Here we can see a skirt, pleated on somehow and open in the front. Again there’s the center front opening covered by a bib, except now we see that it’s held on at the corners with points, and it seems to be an entirely separate piece that goes down just below (and under) the belt. There’s a sash at the waist plus a (sword?) belt that hangs down across the skirt. The upper sleeves are a different color from the lower sleeves, but I think I can get away with the whole sleeve one color, based on the 1516 Romanino and the Franciabigio. I also think I’ll go with the more voluminous sleeves of the earlier portraits, as well as the enormous beret style hats. All of this in black velvet that I’ve been hoarding for several years now. Next, figuring out the pattern!

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

I have been wanting to make a doublet from the 1510-20ish range for a while now, but I hadn’t quite gotten started on it. I’ve been collecting images, and I built the hose I’ll need when I made my Veronese suit. I was still waffling on how to begin when Countess Gwen issued her Little Black Dress Challenge. Apparently that was the kick I needed to actually get serious about this thing.

First, as usual, I needed to find some reference images. I’ve been wanting to make the doublet in this 1516 Romanino portrait for ages:

Unfortunately, there’s some important information missing. How does it close, exactly? Is there a skirt? Does it come in black? Let’s look at some others. Here’s another Romanino portrait:

Okay, now we have black with gold trim, plus a pretty awesome hat. So far, so good. Still nothing below the waist, though. We also have the funny mid-chest bib thing over the open center front closure. Interesting, but still hard to work out the mechanics of it.

Okay, Franciabigio (1522) gives us some more here. Basic black (dark blue? let’s call it black), no trim, fancy hat, so I can dress it down a bit if I want. The half-bib thing again, still no skirt.

And here we have Bronzino (1527-28) for the win! It’s a touch later, but still with many of the same elements. Here we can see a skirt, pleated on somehow and open in the front. Again there’s the center front opening covered by a bib, except now we see that it’s held on at the corners with points, and it seems to be an entirely separate piece that goes down just below (and under) the belt. There’s a sash at the waist plus a (sword?) belt that hangs down across the skirt. The upper sleeves are a different color from the lower sleeves, but I think I can get away with the whole sleeve one color, based on the 1516 Romanino and the Franciabigio. I also think I’ll go with the more voluminous sleeves of the earlier portraits, as well as the enormous beret style hats. All of this in black velvet that I’ve been hoarding for several years now. Next, figuring out the pattern!

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (gaming)
I've started playing a Song of Blades and Heroes campaign with my daughter (D). The rules are cheap, simple, and allow me to make use of my existing stockpile of miniatures. After a couple of test runs, I got the extended campaign rules (Song of Deeds and Glory) and we started our first proper campaign.

Orcs vs. Misfits )

And so we leave the story, until the next battle.
peteyfrogboy: (rook)

The only things left to do are adding the handle and applying the finish. First, the handle:

The handle is made from the same round stock as the lock bolt, bent to shape. I tried making fancy ends, but that didn’t really work out so I opted for a more minimalist look. The brackets are strips of steel formed by folding around a piece of round bar and then clamping in the vise.

I marked the slots on the lid, drilled a few holes and cleaned out the rest with a chip carving knife.

The handle hardware was blackened using the same process as the rest of the metal. The handle itself got two coats of oil.

The handle assembly ready to be installed.

A few taps with a rubber mallet did the trick nicely.

Here you can see the ends of the brackets on the bottom side of the lid.

I spread the ends of the brackets by levering them apart with an old chisel, then did most of the bending by hand. A couple of hammer taps finished the job.

The last thing to do was applying a coat of boiled linseed oil to the whole box, inside and out, wood and metal. I plan to do a couple more coats later, but I think this is pretty much the final appearance. This was, as usual, a very enjoyable project. It’s always nice to see a complex object that began as very simple raw materials.

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

The only things left to do are adding the handle and applying the finish. First, the handle:

The handle is made from the same round stock as the lock bolt, bent to shape. I tried making fancy ends, but that didn’t really work out so I opted for a more minimalist look. The brackets are strips of steel formed by folding around a piece of round bar and then clamping in the vise.

I marked the slots on the lid, drilled a few holes and cleaned out the rest with a chip carving knife.

The handle hardware was blackened using the same process as the rest of the metal. The handle itself got two coats of oil.

The handle assembly ready to be installed.

A few taps with a rubber mallet did the trick nicely.

Here you can see the ends of the brackets on the bottom side of the lid.

I spread the ends of the brackets by levering them apart with an old chisel, then did most of the bending by hand. A couple of hammer taps finished the job.

The last thing to do was applying a coat of boiled linseed oil to the whole box, inside and out, wood and metal. I plan to do a couple more coats later, but I think this is pretty much the final appearance. This was, as usual, a very enjoyable project. It’s always nice to see a complex object that began as very simple raw materials.

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

With the lock installed and functioning, the next step was to actually build the box.

The sides of the box were put together with wood glue and clamps. I thought about putting some extra nails in the corners that would be hidden by the straps, but it seemed like overkill. Also, I didn’t want to risk splitting the edges of any of the boards.

Here’s a shot of the front with the corner straps and bottom attached. Due to the aforementioned splitting worries (I don’t have any of this wood left to replace broken boards), I drilled pilot holes for each nail about halfway through the thickness of the wood. I also did most of the nailing with the boards supported by the horn of the anvil, or on the face when I could. All the hardware was blackened using the same method as the lock cover, but with only one coat of oil.

The bottom was attached with glue and thoroughly modern looking finishing nails. I wanted to make sure I could put this box down on a table without worrying about it scratching anything, so this seemed like the best option. The bottom board had the most cracks in it (and in fact broke in half at one point and needed to be glued back together), so I put it in the position where it would be the most supported.

A close up of the corner straps. I marked the front and back boards to make sure the straps were at the right height, but each had to be positioned individually since they were nowhere near identical.

One of the hinges. The quatrefoils aren’t quite evenly spaced, but they are consistent between the three straps. I experimented with a scalloped edge at the end of the straps, but it didn’t seem to be worth the effort, and might not have looked very balanced.

After getting the lock in place, it turned out that my original hasp wasn’t going to line up with the slot like it needed to. Fortunately, hasps with this sort of dog-leg are quite common. I cut a new one and kept on truckin’.

Laying out the first hinge strap. Here you can see the notches I had to cut in the box lid to accommodate the hardware. Not an ideal solution, but the best I could do.

Here are the hinges fully installed. This is one of my favorite pictures. The position of the hinges meant the straps on the back overlapped the ends of the corner straps. This is pretty common in period examples, and I’m glad I didn’t try to avoid it (to be perfectly honest, it didn’t even occur to me that this might happen until it did).

This was the first version of the staple for the hasp. The final one was just about the same shape, but made form a thin strip of sheet instead of a flattened coat hanger. The coat hanger ended up being too hard and brittle to make all the sharp bends I needed.

Here is the final version of the hasp. I had to tinker with the shape and position of the staple quite a bit to get it to engage the bolt properly, but it seems to have ended up working fine. The ends are simply bent back toward the center on the other side and crimped down.

All that’s left to do is fabricate and install the handle and give it a linseed oil finish. Here are some pics of the (nearly) complete casket:

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

With the lock installed and functioning, the next step was to actually build the box.

The sides of the box were put together with wood glue and clamps. I thought about putting some extra nails in the corners that would be hidden by the straps, but it seemed like overkill. Also, I didn’t want to risk splitting the edges of any of the boards.

Here’s a shot of the front with the corner straps and bottom attached. Due to the aforementioned splitting worries (I don’t have any of this wood left to replace broken boards), I drilled pilot holes for each nail about halfway through the thickness of the wood. I also did most of the nailing with the boards supported by the horn of the anvil, or on the face when I could. All the hardware was blackened using the same method as the lock cover, but with only one coat of oil.

The bottom was attached with glue and thoroughly modern looking finishing nails. I wanted to make sure I could put this box down on a table without worrying about it scratching anything, so this seemed like the best option. The bottom board had the most cracks in it (and in fact broke in half at one point and needed to be glued back together), so I put it in the position where it would be the most supported.

A close up of the corner straps. I marked the front and back boards to make sure the straps were at the right height, but each had to be positioned individually since they were nowhere near identical.

One of the hinges. The quatrefoils aren’t quite evenly spaced, but they are consistent between the three straps. I experimented with a scalloped edge at the end of the straps, but it didn’t seem to be worth the effort, and might not have looked very balanced.

After getting the lock in place, it turned out that my original hasp wasn’t going to line up with the slot like it needed to. Fortunately, hasps with this sort of dog-leg are quite common. I cut a new one and kept on truckin’.

Laying out the first hinge strap. Here you can see the notches I had to cut in the box lid to accommodate the hardware. Not an ideal solution, but the best I could do.

Here are the hinges fully installed. This is one of my favorite pictures. The position of the hinges meant the straps on the back overlapped the ends of the corner straps. This is pretty common in period examples, and I’m glad I didn’t try to avoid it (to be perfectly honest, it didn’t even occur to me that this might happen until it did).

This was the first version of the staple for the hasp. The final one was just about the same shape, but made form a thin strip of sheet instead of a flattened coat hanger. The coat hanger ended up being too hard and brittle to make all the sharp bends I needed.

Here is the final version of the hasp. I had to tinker with the shape and position of the staple quite a bit to get it to engage the bolt properly, but it seems to have ended up working fine. The ends are simply bent back toward the center on the other side and crimped down.

All that’s left to do is fabricate and install the handle and give it a linseed oil finish. Here are some pics of the (nearly) complete casket:

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

The first version of the lock was not very elegant, and the key kept catching on the corners of the brackets, so I revised my plan.

Here you can see the main mechanism of the new lock. Instead of two brackets, there is one bracket with rectangular holes on either end. This makes it easier to clear the path of the key, though it does have other issues that will be seen later. I had originally planned to use the same leaf spring design as the v.1.0 lock, but after going back to look at my source images I decided to try attacking the spring to one of the bracket flanges instead. While the theory was sound, the piece of brass shown here did not have sufficient stiffness to maintain good tension.

This is the paper template for the lock cover, including placement of the keyhole and the slot where the hasp will connect to the bolt.

Here is the paper template placed over the lock mechanism. You can see the bolt in the locked position inside the slot.


This is v.2.1 of the lock mechanism. The problem with the v.1.0 leaf spring was that the piece of hair barrette I was using was too narrow to properly engage the bolt (and also hard to attach). The solution, therefore, was a wider barrette. A quick trip to the dollar store got me a 6-pack of nice flat barrettes of various widths. The previous orientation of the brass spring didn’t work with the stiffer steel, so I flipped it upside down and bent it to where it needed to be. Bending the spring had to be done very carefully, as it breaks easily if bent too sharply.


This is a closer shot showing the attachment of the spring. I had a problem later with the bolt, after the cover was in place. While the bolt was prevented from going too far to the right by the side of the lock cover, there was really nothing to prevent it going too far to the left from an over-enthusiastic turn of the key or vibration from hammering. There is no sound quite as depressing as a bolt rattling around loose inside a nailed-on lock. I had to pull out nails (twice) to fix a wayward bolt. In the end I put the bolt in the vise and mushroomed the right end of it slightly so it would no longer be able to fit through the hole in the bracket. Problem solved!

Here is the lock cover cut out of the same steel as the rest of the hardware and bent into shape. It took some finagling to get everything going the right way, but it all turned out in the end.

Since I wanted to mount the lock on the front of the box before it was fully assembled, that meant the lock cover was the first piece that needed to be blackened. I placed the cover on a piece of fire brick on top of the anvil and heated it with a propane torch. Once it was hot enough that black oxide appeared on the surface, I picked it up with a specialized tool (coat hanger with one end bent into a hook) and dunked it in a metal bowl of safflower oil. I removed it from the oil, let most of it drip off, then put it back on the fire brick to heat it again. This process was repeated one more time just to be sure. I also had to go back and re-treat the edges later after I dinged it up trying to pull out nails.


Here you can see the lock mechanism ready to be mounted to the front board of the box. The center point of the board is marked in pencil, but the lock mechanism is offset slightly relative to the cover. You can also see the hole drilled for the post of the key.

The lock mechanism nailed in place. These are 9/16″ black cut nails that I found at Lowe’s for super cheap. They hold well and look good, so I ended up using them for all the construction of this box (with one exception).

The completed lock installed. I did not, in fact, ever check to make sure the lock cover would fit on the front of the box. I could have cut off the top and/or bottom flanges to make it fit if I needed to, but I got lucky and was able to squeeze it in as is. Once the cover was in place, it turned out that I had to file down the bit of the key just a smidge to make sure it cleared everything inside. Next time, the actual construction of the box!

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

The first version of the lock was not very elegant, and the key kept catching on the corners of the brackets, so I revised my plan.

Here you can see the main mechanism of the new lock. Instead of two brackets, there is one bracket with rectangular holes on either end. This makes it easier to clear the path of the key, though it does have other issues that will be seen later. I had originally planned to use the same leaf spring design as the v.1.0 lock, but after going back to look at my source images I decided to try attacking the spring to one of the bracket flanges instead. While the theory was sound, the piece of brass shown here did not have sufficient stiffness to maintain good tension.

This is the paper template for the lock cover, including placement of the keyhole and the slot where the hasp will connect to the bolt.

Here is the paper template placed over the lock mechanism. You can see the bolt in the locked position inside the slot.


This is v.2.1 of the lock mechanism. The problem with the v.1.0 leaf spring was that the piece of hair barrette I was using was too narrow to properly engage the bolt (and also hard to attach). The solution, therefore, was a wider barrette. A quick trip to the dollar store got me a 6-pack of nice flat barrettes of various widths. The previous orientation of the brass spring didn’t work with the stiffer steel, so I flipped it upside down and bent it to where it needed to be. Bending the spring had to be done very carefully, as it breaks easily if bent too sharply.


This is a closer shot showing the attachment of the spring. I had a problem later with the bolt, after the cover was in place. While the bolt was prevented from going too far to the right by the side of the lock cover, there was really nothing to prevent it going too far to the left from an over-enthusiastic turn of the key or vibration from hammering. There is no sound quite as depressing as a bolt rattling around loose inside a nailed-on lock. I had to pull out nails (twice) to fix a wayward bolt. In the end I put the bolt in the vise and mushroomed the right end of it slightly so it would no longer be able to fit through the hole in the bracket. Problem solved!

Here is the lock cover cut out of the same steel as the rest of the hardware and bent into shape. It took some finagling to get everything going the right way, but it all turned out in the end.

Since I wanted to mount the lock on the front of the box before it was fully assembled, that meant the lock cover was the first piece that needed to be blackened. I placed the cover on a piece of fire brick on top of the anvil and heated it with a propane torch. Once it was hot enough that black oxide appeared on the surface, I picked it up with a specialized tool (coat hanger with one end bent into a hook) and dunked it in a metal bowl of safflower oil. I removed it from the oil, let most of it drip off, then put it back on the fire brick to heat it again. This process was repeated one more time just to be sure. I also had to go back and re-treat the edges later after I dinged it up trying to pull out nails.


Here you can see the lock mechanism ready to be mounted to the front board of the box. The center point of the board is marked in pencil, but the lock mechanism is offset slightly relative to the cover. You can also see the hole drilled for the post of the key.

The lock mechanism nailed in place. These are 9/16″ black cut nails that I found at Lowe’s for super cheap. They hold well and look good, so I ended up using them for all the construction of this box (with one exception).

The completed lock installed. I did not, in fact, ever check to make sure the lock cover would fit on the front of the box. I could have cut off the top and/or bottom flanges to make it fit if I needed to, but I got lucky and was able to squeeze it in as is. Once the cover was in place, it turned out that I had to file down the bit of the key just a smidge to make sure it cleared everything inside. Next time, the actual construction of the box!

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

The lock is held together with several tiny copper rivets. Here’s a little tutorial on how I made them.

I start out with a piece of copper wire clamped tightly in a pair of vise grips. There’s about 1/8″ extending above the jaws.

I set the vise grips on top of a vise that’s open just enough so that any extra wire can fit between the jaws. A piece of scrap steel with a hole drilled in it is placed over the wire so that I have a nice flat surface to work with.

The exposed end of the wire is peened to create a head for the rivet. Sometimes the wire below bends a little and needs to be straightened back out.

The rivet is cut to length with flush cutters. This is one of the points where I am most likely to lose the rivet.

If the rivet is in an easily accessible spot, I can peen the other side on the anvil. Most likely, especially when building locks, the is not the case. I use a large nail set clamped in the vise as an anvil. It allows me to support rivets in awkward places, and also gives a nice round shape to the head.

Here the rivet is placed in the hole. This is the other point where I am likely to lose it. Needlenose pliers and patience are very useful here. You can see how much stuff there is to work around on the front side of the lock; this is where the nail set comes in very handy.

And here are the rivets in place. Not the prettiest, but quite effective. When I went to replace this brass leaf spring, I had to grind the rivet out with the Dremel.

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

The lock is held together with several tiny copper rivets. Here’s a little tutorial on how I made them.

I start out with a piece of copper wire clamped tightly in a pair of vise grips. There’s about 1/8″ extending above the jaws.

I set the vise grips on top of a vise that’s open just enough so that any extra wire can fit between the jaws. A piece of scrap steel with a hole drilled in it is placed over the wire so that I have a nice flat surface to work with.

The exposed end of the wire is peened to create a head for the rivet. Sometimes the wire below bends a little and needs to be straightened back out.

The rivet is cut to length with flush cutters. This is one of the points where I am most likely to lose the rivet.

If the rivet is in an easily accessible spot, I can peen the other side on the anvil. Most likely, especially when building locks, the is not the case. I use a large nail set clamped in the vise as an anvil. It allows me to support rivets in awkward places, and also gives a nice round shape to the head.

Here the rivet is placed in the hole. This is the other point where I am likely to lose it. Needlenose pliers and patience are very useful here. You can see how much stuff there is to work around on the front side of the lock; this is where the nail set comes in very handy.

And here are the rivets in place. Not the prettiest, but quite effective. When I went to replace this brass leaf spring, I had to grind the rivet out with the Dremel.

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

Back when I was figuring out how to build locks before, I found this lovely resource that got me going in the right direction. This first version of the lock mechanism is based on what I recall doing last time, but I don’t think it’s the way I’ll be going in the end. Still, it was a good exercise.

So here we have the key I bought. In the past I cut the bit down on my keys, but this one is small enough that I plan to leave it intact. I hate to cut up old things if I don’t have to, so this makes me happy.

Here I have the back plate of the lock mechanism, with a hole drilled for the post of the key going all the way into the board behind so the key will go in to just the right depth and remain stable. The plate is a piece of stainless cut from leftover bits of the toaster over shell I used for my Jedi belt.

I secured the back plate temporarily with carpet tacks, and marked out the path of the key.

I left the steel rod I planned to use at my parents’ house, but fortunately I had another one lying around. It was a bit smaller, but actually not a bad size for what I needed. I flattened it into a rectangular cross section on the anvil.

A bit of filing made a serviceable notch in the bolt.

I cut a couple of brackets to hold the bolt, and tacked them in place to test them.

A couple more tacks and a piece of a hair clip made a tension spring. You can also see a piece of cardboard behind the bolt serving as a spacer, so there will be room for the hasp to go around the bolt.

The brackets are permanently secured using small pieces of copper wire as rivets.

Here is a metal spacer riveted in place behind the brackets.

While this lock would probably work, it is awfully fiddly and was not the easiest thing to fabricate. I have another method that I plan to try soon…

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

Back when I was figuring out how to build locks before, I found this lovely resource that got me going in the right direction. This first version of the lock mechanism is based on what I recall doing last time, but I don’t think it’s the way I’ll be going in the end. Still, it was a good exercise.

So here we have the key I bought. In the past I cut the bit down on my keys, but this one is small enough that I plan to leave it intact. I hate to cut up old things if I don’t have to, so this makes me happy.

Here I have the back plate of the lock mechanism, with a hole drilled for the post of the key going all the way into the board behind so the key will go in to just the right depth and remain stable. The plate is a piece of stainless cut from leftover bits of the toaster over shell I used for my Jedi belt.

I secured the back plate temporarily with carpet tacks, and marked out the path of the key.

I left the steel rod I planned to use at my parents’ house, but fortunately I had another one lying around. It was a bit smaller, but actually not a bad size for what I needed. I flattened it into a rectangular cross section on the anvil.

A bit of filing made a serviceable notch in the bolt.

I cut a couple of brackets to hold the bolt, and tacked them in place to test them.

A couple more tacks and a piece of a hair clip made a tension spring. You can also see a piece of cardboard behind the bolt serving as a spacer, so there will be room for the hasp to go around the bolt.

The brackets are permanently secured using small pieces of copper wire as rivets.

Here is a metal spacer riveted in place behind the brackets.

While this lock would probably work, it is awfully fiddly and was not the easiest thing to fabricate. I have another method that I plan to try soon…

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

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