Precision is more than a relative concept. One is not ‘sort of’ precise in furniture-making. Precision involves an attitude about the work; standards for making; and, in fact, a way of seeing the world.

There are various metrics for what precision means. For a welder, being short by 1/32″ just means making a slightly wider weld. Silicon wafer factories measure their results in microns. A considerate furniture maker who makes an error of .75mm / 1/32″ fixes it.

As I developed my skills, I realized that I could see things simply by eye in order to know if it was correct; one senses this. I didn’t have to measure. I started to practice this skill of trusting my eye. I would assess the placement of a hole center or match dovetail angles by sight. Were things a little bit off to the left or right? Then I would measure and see how close I really was. It got to where I could see differences that became difficult to measure. It took a good many years, but eventually I trained my eye to see differences of 1/64″, or 1/3 of a mm, and less.

I’m not sure what this skill gave me or whether it’s useful in any other field, except perhaps darts. But this method intrigued me—the ability to see things without pulling out a ruler and knowing that one is right is something I grew to like. It involved trusting myself in a way that I never could have done as a novice.

I could also let it go when I needed to. It’s not a time-saver, being precise, unless your skills with your tools and materials match your eye’s sensitivity. If they do not, one is very unhappy at the bench and becomes skilled in cursing. No, it is the mix of the two: to train one’s eyes, and then to match that with one’s hands. This was less a goal than a competition with myself. I enjoyed sawing my dovetails just by eye. The difficulty for the craftsperson is knowing how to be precise without aiming for perfection.

Once, on holiday visiting the Municipal House in Prague, I explored that Art Nouveau structure while we waited for a concert. I walked down a staircase and turned to see a large panel covering the side of the stairs. I noticed the brass screws holding it in place. All the screws were turned to align at 9 and 3 o’clock. On all four sides of the large panel, they ran parallel with the floor. When I saw this, I couldn’t help smiling. It wasn’t the choice I would have made, but it was an indication that when this hall had been built, someone had taken the time to make things ‘right’ to their eye. It wasn’t perfect. It was precise.

That’s what measuring by eye means to me. It means paying attention to the small details so the larger ones are supported by their foundation.