“Students are forever running to libraries to get various books – on peasant art, Scandinavian modern, Shaker, Colonial, Indian – one this and one that. They fill their heads with all these images, and then frantically try to come up with something of their own. As though you put these ingredients in a kettle, add water, stir, and cook for two hours. What do you get? Pottage. Pea soup.
It’s a losing battle. And so exhausting. Stay out of it. It took me a long time to realize this, and accept my unoriginal self. Try to find the sort of people for whom there is another originality – that of the quiet object in unquiet times.”
James Krenov, “A Cabinetmaker’s Notebook” p.45
It’s been nearly two years since we first announced my biography of James Krenov, and more than that since I began my research. I had initially hoped to keep a regular blogging practice up through the book’s writing – it turned out that I had a lot to learn. Nearly every week since that time two years ago, I’ve learned some new facet of Krenov’s life, some new angle to his approach, a new anecdote or, in some cases, entire paths and works of his that I (and the internet, his family or his close friends) had never known about. The number of revelations I had, even about Krenov’s basic biographical details or work, made me wary of putting anything down in writing that I wasn’t ready to share – you don’t know what you don’t know.
Now, with my manuscript about 80 percent done, and nearly every stone upturned, I’ve emerged with an entirely different and more total image of Krenov, as an individual, a philosopher and a craftsperson. This past week I hit a milestone in my writing – I finished my chapter writing about Jim’s first woodworking book, “A Cabinetmaker’s Notebook,” which was a huge moment of inflection in his career. Luckily for me and my writing, the book garnered him enough attention and publicity that I’ve officially entered a phase of his life where documentation and detail is no longer hard-won – writing the last half-dozen chapters of his life is more about noise reduction and separating the wheat from the chaff.
Krenov was already 56 years old when “Notebook” was published (though he started writing it a decade earlier). He shared little of his own biographic details – like so much of Krenov’s advice to students, his anecdotes and stories are presented almost as fables, or points along a story arc or in service of a conclusion, not a self-examination or real background. He writes a detailed autobiographic summary at the back of “Notebook,” but he omits so much (I now know!). He never discussed (in any length) his context, that of the students, colleagues, competitors and critics he came up around in Stockholm for 15 years. Perhaps a nod to Carl Malmsten, a few vague acknowledgements in the front matter of the book. But he had been a translator, boatbuilder, travel writer, factory worker, so much more in his youth, and as a craftsperson he interacted with a wide swath of trends and tastemakers, old and new – and he discussed very little of this publicly, though it was deeply formative in his own trajectory.
There is a context to Krenov’s writing – one that goes much deeper than the already nuanced and sensitive philosophy he expressed in his books. I just read through “Notebook” again over the past week, and with all that I know now, after interviewing people around the globe and sifting through thousands of pages of photos, letters, newspaper archives and public documents, the book’s subtleties and Krenov’s implicit understandings and influences are much richer. My own reflections, conclusions and musings I take away from reading the book are much deeper and more rewarding as well.
And a biography is not the place to write a detailed analysis of the book – that could easily be its own tome, as nearly each paragraph’s individual implications are worth a dissection (to my eye). And he went on to write four more books on the subject. I hope that many who might be interested in this biography might have read his books already – but should I count on that? And, while I think my biography will offer up the fruits of my discoveries for my readers, would they have come to similar conclusions and interpretations?
So, with so many of us in our homes, I thought I’d propose an idea, one I’ve discussed with a few fellow graduates of Jim’s school in recent weeks – a kind of book club, where we can discuss his books and work and I can share this rich new understanding and insight I have into Krenov’s writings and life.
So – a week from today, I’ll be writing my own impressions and analysis of the first section of Krenov’s first book, “A Cabinetmaker’s Notebook,” and pulling quotes or passages that I find relevant, interesting or though-provoking. Specifically, I’ll be looking at the front matter of the book (the acknowledgements, openings quotes and first essay) up to page 23.
I’d also like to include you all in this, in discussion and in my write-up next week – so, over the course of this next week, give the book a read up to page 23, make some notes or come up with a question or two you might have about the work, photography or philosophy, and post them in the comments of this post, down below. I’ll be tending to the comments over the next week, to react to or answer simpler questions, but the more complex impressions, perspectives or questions will make up a section of my own post next week. I hope you all will also interact with each other in the comments, too. If enough people are interested, I’ll look into hosting an online chatroom or live discussion, where we might have an easier time going back and forth in a more focused or direct manner.
If you don’t have a copy of the book, you can certainly order one to join in the discussion (it’s worth having a copy around, and the book is still available to order online), but the Internet Archive has also set up a digital library online during this pandemic to get people access to reading material while their libraries are closed. The first edition of Krenov’s book is hosted there, and you can “borrow” the book just as you would from a library (though you will have to make an account to do so): here’s the link. That’s the first edition version of the book, from Van Nostrad Reinhold, which is what I’ll be reading – the language and photos didn’t change in subsequent publications, but there were introductions and forewords in future editions that we won’t be discussing here.
It’s less than an hour’s read, and I’ll continue to work through the rest of the book in the upcoming weeks, provided there is an interest. There’s a good reason this book was so influential at the time – and I think many of the quotes, like the one I opened this post with, remain relevant and worth discussing in any creative practice or craft. Every time I read back through it, I find more to think about – and I suspect you will, too. I hope my insights into the book will also demonstrate that the work of this biography is much more than a service to Jim’s legacy – I think an understanding of Krenov’s life and its contextual environments informs a deeper understanding of craft and creative practice through the 20th century. It also provides a lot of material from which you might glean a better understanding of your own position and practice as a craftsperson or consumer.
— Brendan Gaffney
I’ll read along with you all. A woodworking book club sounds legit. I’m looking forward to it.
I have two comments/ questions about the section we just read:
1. Did James make items like many makers do today in the sense that Morley makes a rocker, Weeks makes a rocker, Boggs makes several chairs, and they will repeatedly sell the same design amidst other custom work? Maybe an easier way to ask is if most of this work was one off custom products with out much repetition.
2. I can really relate to his repulsion to the disposable, paper plate type of furniture most people are accustomed to. As a woodworking professional I feel this struggle daily. At work everyday in the cabinet shop, I feel like I am slanging McD’s woodworking equivalent and feeding people’s obesity and diabetes.
To answer your first question: The majority of Krenov’s work was made “on spec,” i.e. individual pieces that he wished to pursue for his own craft practice, and not necessarily guided by a specific commission or repetition of a design. While he returned to the same forms again and again (wall cabinets, tables, cabinets on stands, etc.) he rarely duplicated pieces exactly – each iteration would change in some way, to suit the different woods used or some new interest Krenov found in the piece or a different take on its form or aesthetics. A relevant quote, talking about his “Silver chest” design that he remade many times over the years, but never exactly the same:
“People have come to me through the years and wanted me to make one for them, and usually I say, ‘Perhaps in the autumn after summer vacation, when I feel relaxed and able, I might just try it. If I have some very special wood I haven’t used in it before, and I know I want to try one again.’”
So, everything was on-off in a way – though he did repeat designs, but nearly always in a new light. He did take some very specific commissions, for a certain item or collection, but even then it was a back and forth between him and the customer, and I think he still largely followed his own desires and pursuits as much as the client’s. Early in his career, it seems that he did make a few small runs of a similar form at one time, but this practice disappeared within a year or two of his setting up shop.
As to your second comment – Jim didn’t think that all things needed to be made with the exacting care and sensitivity he paid to each of his pieces. He recognized that some things need to be made with an eye to cost and efficiency, but I think he didn’t see that furniture all had to be made in such a way. In fact, he considered those items of necessity as a possible opportunity to allow normal people to afford finer things – you could have a few nice things in your house, where it mattered, and the more transient or utilitiarian items might make those things more valuable, in a way. I think he was most upset by pieces of furniture that were portrayed as “fine” but were made by industrial or uncaring methods – mass produced – and wanted to see that there was a proper appreciation of those craftspeople that took it upon themselves to produce truly fine and unique pieces. I can relate to that – there are chairs that sell at big retailers that cost the same as mine, and I know my chairs are more comfortable and will outlast them.
Just to be aware: the Internet Archive may be violating copyright with its collection. If you can, use a legitimate library or pick up a copy of the book itself. This husband of an author thanks you.
I agree – I did feel funny posting the link. I’ll join you (as a soon to be author myself) in encouraging people to purchase the book.
and some may not have the resources to purchase the book, so thanks for posting the link to the archive.
Looking forward to this Brendan. A GREAT idea!
This is exciting. And I’m so happy to hear about your progress on your book. I look forward to it.
Brendan: I remember clearly reading Cabinet Makers Notebook the first time. Like most woodworkers his book deeply effect me. I head through an magazine ad, (back long before the net) that Jim was going to talk at a woodworkers store n Chicago. So I drive four hours to listen to home speak. Sadly, I forgot to bring my copy of the book for him to sign. There was a group of about twenty five people. After about 20 minutes of talking, a young lady asked about women and woodworking. His reaction super surprised me. If was if she had asked to fly to the moon. He abruptly stated that, “Women do not belong doing woodwork.” in a very strong voice. I sat there for about tens minutes thinking about his statement. I got up and left and drove back home.
Hey Clifford,
His school, both during his tenure there and certainly even more now, has been supportive in seeking out female and atypical students, and I know he had a deep admiration for a number of female craftspeople, but this may have predated those sentiments. In research and interviews for the book, it’s clear that Jim often had a dichotomous personality – sour and sweet – and he was prone to harsh reactions. In the end I think it often hurt him most – he had trouble maintaining close friendships, and I think his mood swings may have been more deep-seated. But, I’m lucky to not be attempting a psych profile – and in talking with so many, even the most trying relationships are remembered as rewarding by those involved. He was certainly a flawed man but the legacy he left, in the school and his writing, does give a “happily ever after” cast to his story – but there are certainly bumps in the road.
Thanks for the very thoughtful reply. Yes…we all carry our demons. It’s what/why we become/became an Artist. And Krenov was a Artist. He used to call himself an “Amateur” as we knew, he wasn’t an amateur. I think the reason he called himself and Amateur was simple, he/we are always learning. When we stop learning new things, we stop growing as a person. His books and teaching inspired millions of people. How many Krenov cabinets have been inspired by his books? Bet the number would surprise us. Even today, I still take down his books and read them. They give me as much joy and pleasure as when I first read them and whenever a younger person asks me, “What woodworking book should I read.” I always tell them, “The Cabinetmaker’s Notebook.”
Clifford, I wonder if he meant “amateur” in the sense that some people use it with a nod to the word’s origin in terms meaning “to love, a lover of”? Less of a noob or dilettante, more someone whose primary interest is driven by a passionate interest in a subject or skill.
Good idea! Thanks!
Thanks for prompting a re-read of this book. A couple of questions came to mind as I read through the first section this morning.
1. I think Thomas Merton is an interesting choice for a quotation. Did Krenov have any particular connection to Merton and Christian mysticism, or was this more of a one-off pull that Krenov included because this specific poem resonated with him?
2. Krenov’s intended audience, at least for this section, seems to be those attempting to make their living as craftspeople. I’m basing this on the last three paragraphs of the section, and I’ve only read two of Krenov’s books. Did he see hobbyists as part of his audience at all?
I have a longer answer to the first question of yours, which will make its way into my writing next week – there’s a little background there that’s worth getting into.
But as to the second question – I think Krenov had a particular student or person in mind, and I think it often wasn‘t necessarily professionals, more like “dedicated amateurs.” In most of his writings, he’s quite pessimistic about the prospects for uncompromising carftspeople, in part due to his own experiences with income from woodworking – at the height of his career in Sweden, records and public documents show that he wasn’t likely making more than about $30,000 a year (in 2020 US dollars), and that was with work in museums, commissions and lecturing. The books certainly consituted a change of income for him, and eased that pressure – but his term for himself and others, “impractical,” is in part a reference to the difficulty in supporting oneself that his methods and philosophy would entail.
A relevant quote from Krenov:
“I’m an amateur and always will be. That’s the way I want to die. I’m an amateur by nature and I’m an amateur in fact. …David Pye wrote somewhere that the best work of this century would certainly be done by amateurs.”
That’s from his 2004 interview with Oscar Fitzgerald for the Smithsonian archives.
Certainly hobbyists made up the majority of his audience and I think he knew that and was, in part, addressing them in the books. Though, the “imagined reader” he addresses does seem, at times, to be looking to go into woodworking professionally, and is addressed that way – he lectured at a number of schools before and during his writing the book, and I imagine that he was likely composing these writings with an imagined audience of eager students, who might be learning and thinking about a life of craft ahead of them.
My understanding (ex College of Redwoods student) was that his wife was the primary bread winner.
Britta (his wife), from what I understand from the family and from Jim’s recollections, was main the supporter of the family, and her steady employment as a teacher for 25+ years in Sweden was a big part of what allowed Jim to pursue his craft. She was also a teacher of economics and finance and was quite proud at how she managed the family’s needs.
I’ll also say that there was a time when Britta and Jim were just starting out and Britta was home with their first daughter that Jim worked long hours in the factories in Stockholm, and part of his wife’s support grew from an appreciation or recognition that Jim had taken such unpleasant or unfulfilling work to help the family. But, Britta’s support went much further than that – she was, as many called her, “Saint Britta,” and she was a huge reason for Jim’s successes, and Jim certainly recognized that throughout his career.
A relevant quote from Jim:
“I made one object at a time because of the wood, because of the tools, with a certain idea and hope, and somehow these objects won friends and gradually, gradually, my confidence and experience increased. But for a very long time, it was touch and go. Even now, although people may think that I’ve got it made and things are going fine, even now I am only carrying my end of the plank. Someone else who is sharing life with me and has believed from the beginning in what I am trying to do is carrying the other end of that plank.”
In the 80’s I was living in Boston, after having worked in a few woodshops doing custom/production furniture I decided I wanted to formally study furniture making. Boston at this time was on the rising tide of the New School of furniture making called Contemporary or Art Furniture driven by the Program in Artisanry at BU. The PIA staff was a who’s who of the New School approach to furniture – Jere Osgood, Alphonse Mattia, Judy Kensley Mckie, Wendy Murayama, Wendell Castle did a stint there as did James Krenov. Rumors floated that Krenov clashed with most of the staff there, philosophy and practices were about as opposite as could be, one rumor was Krenov threatened Castle w/a chisel! I visited the North Bennet St School and interviewed w/George Fullerton (he taught there for 34 yrs), the caliber and quality of work was truly amazing. I decided, foolishly, that the furniture designs/techniques were dated. I went to CA and drove Rte. 1 to Fort Bragg met w/the College of Redwoods staff, toured the school and listened to give JK a lecture. Part of me loved the introspection, the calm and quiet aspect of the hand tool approach. But Jim mentioned “Us and Them” in his lecture a few times, meaning those woodworkers who lived an impure life (sanding, machines, certain hand tools etc) and “Us” the ones who made furniture the Krenov way. The aesthetic of the student work was reflective of his designs to the point of reproduction, JK was clearly revered, there was a cult of personality vibe at the school. Coming from busy commercial shops (I was Them) earning a living was a priority, the JK approach didn’t seem practical or feasible in a way that would give me enough diverse skills to be successful making high(er) end, hand made furniture. I ended up attending Leeds Design Workshops a small furniture making school (no longer in existence) in Western MA, it was started by David Powell a Brit who apprenticed under Edward Barnsley in rural England, direct lineage to 1900 Arts and Craft Movement. Hand tools, machine use and draftsmanship were taught as part of essential skill set – a creative vocational training scheme. Long story short, in my career I worked w/a few Ex College of Redwoods students who were passionate makers, often idealists who made difficult transitions into the everyday world of earning a living making furniture. I have all of JK’s books and utilize his hand planes, incorporating some of his techniques as well. There is a rich history to contemporary furniture making, Jim Krenov was certainly an influential character.
Funny, but I read Jim’s books as they came out with the exception of the last one. I wasn’t even aware that he had moved to the States until 2005. When I became aware, my wife and I made the short trek to Ft. Bragg and were able to spend a day with him in him little shop at home. It was a delightful time and he presented me with one of his planes at the end of our visit. The visit was enough to encourage me to stop by the school and from that experience I was able to sign up for the summer courses. Taking the tools and techniques class was an absolute joy. The beauty of being fully immersed in woodworking for the entire time with no outside distractions was a wonderful gift. BTW, Brendan I’ve got some photos of Jim in his little shop that I’d be happy to share with you if you’d like.
Hey Michael, if you’d like to share those photos, I’d be happy to have them! Sounds like a lovely time you had with him there. I suppose you took the Tool & Techniques with Budlong, right? What a guy, and what a magic place to take a woodworking class, my 9 months there were among the most fulfilling times of my life.
If you want to email those photos, my email is brendan (at) burn-heart.com
It was with Jim Budlong and Greg Smith. Of course David was still hovering then keeping us moving along and on track.
I wonder what Krenov would have thought about greenwoodworking and making chairs from logs. I look forward to opening up a log to see what is inside, And going further, selecting the most interesting riven billets to use for posts and slats, and sometimes selecting rungs for their slight curvature. These first few pages really resonate with me now.
When I read “Notebook” again (for the umpteenth time) not long after being with you, visiting with Jennie and doing some of the green projects, the wood selection and reverence passages had a much different resonance. While he didn’t do the splitting, he was often there when the log was sawn, and directed the process alongside the sawyer – I have a few other passages from elsewhere that go into more detail about that, I’ll dig them up and make it a part of my post next week. There’s a common thread between greenwoodworking, Alexander and Krenov, a reverence of wood’s origins and an appreciation of “the right tree.”
In Chris Williams book, Good Work, he mentions the Welsh ‘square mile’ concept – finding all the wood you need within a square mile of your home. That echoes what Krenov says about American wood and saying the it is quite possible to limit oneself to wood from one region or even from one state. And the Wharton Esherik reference. (But then Krenov says he both agrees and disagrees with that notion).
My favorite piece in the book is the small cabinet with fitted cubbies for pottery pieces. That cabinet, and the book always come to mind whenever I am making anything designed to hold something else, be it a peg to hang a brush or a spice cabinet.
That box was an important commission – the Gustavberg Porcelain company commissioned that piece from Krenov to store a selection of Berndt Friberg’s porcelain miniatures, which was given to the King. It’s a favorite piece of mine, too – and it was surprisingly hard to track down, being such a noteworthy piece. It’s now at the Ulriksdal Palace near Stockholm, but I think it was tough to find because the miniatures were the noted part of the collection, not the box – Berndt Friberg, by that time, was a much bigger name that Krenov, and I think Jim’s name just sort of “fell off” the piece after a time.
It’s also worth noting that the piece bears a few signatures that it’s a relatively early piece – the evenly spaced dovetails are a dead giveaway, something Krenov would not have done just a few years later (he preferred to space them with a “rhythm,” with smaller pins towards the outside of the joint). It’s a very crispy piece, and doesn’t have quite the same “friendliness” or obvious fingerprints of the maker (i.e. the tool marks of handwork) that later boxes, drawer or cabinets would have.
Thank you Mr. Gaffney, for that extra information. Exactly the sort of detail I look forward to in your new book. (Hoping you’ll find that ship model too. I suppose the bicycle is long since gone.)
Thanks for doing this! I’ll be following the book club with interest. I have a question that doesn’t directly pertain to the assigned passage, but I’m not sure it will ever be pertinent, so here goes: Do you have a sense of what Krenov took away from his time with Carl Malmsten? I recently learned that Wille Sundqvist, too, had some training with Malmsten, and it’s striking to me that two important figures whose careers and output seem at first glance so dissimilar (but maybe they really aren’t?) both trained with Malmsten.
There’s a long answer and a short answer – the book will have the long answer. The short answer is: Krenov took away a lot from his time with Malmsten, in aesthetics, pedagogy and philosophy. They were good friends, for a time, though it soured in the years after Jim stopped lecturing at the Verkstadssskola (Malmsten’s Stockholm school), and Malmsten died not long after in 1972. There are some very “slöjd” aspects of Jim’s work – the carved pulls, use of knives, his preference to “leave fingerprints of the maker” in terms of toolmarks – those would have been around in Malmsten’s, though they were also in the air at the time in Sweden. There were a lot of people that connected them, too – many students from the Verkstadssskola visited and even studied with Jim for a time.
There’s an even deeper through-line, as well, between the Arts & Crafts from the early 20th century in Britain. Jim would go on to consider many of those from the Barnsley and Gimson lineages to be among the best workers, and there are a web of reasons why he might have thought so. And, Malmsten had visited with Barnsley and Gimson in the 1920s – and was, I believe, was the person who introduced their work to Jim while he was in school.
Thank you for this book club. I look forward to participating. I read, at the time of publication, three of Mr. Krenov’s books; A Cabinetmakers Notebook, The Impractical Cabinetmaker, and The Fine Art of Cabinetmaking. When recently I searched the Internet for A Cabinetmaker’s Notebook I found that it was readily available but the date of publication was later than 1976 and the dust cover picture was different. Were there updates to the book? You mention five books, I was only aware of the three. Will you please explain?
What inspires me about the book is the love of wood. I think it is this love of wood that drew me to woodworking. I know of no other reason I was drawn to woodworking rather that metalwork or some other craft.
Like many other books, they were reprinted reissued a few times, first by Sterling and later by Linden. There were five woodworking books – the first four, “A Cabinetmaker’s Notebook,” “The Fine Art of Cabinetmaking,” “The Impractical Cabinetmaker” and “Worker in Wood” were all published by Van Nostrand Reinhold in the late 1970s and early 1980s. A fifth book, “With Wakened Hands,” was published by Cambium Press in 2000, which has a number of essays written by Jim accompanied by a large number of photographs of his students work (and some of his own).
The reissued books have no significant additions or modifications, save for a new introduction or foreword.
He also published a book before his time as a woodworker, way back in 1955, a travelogue from a trip to Italy called “Italiensk Resa” (Italian Trip) that was translated and published in Swedish. Krenov rarely talked about that book, and it was pretty different than his woodworking books (which came two decades later), though after reading the english-language manuscript (which I have from his personal papers) it’s clear that some of the anti-industrial/consumer philosophies were present already in his first book.
Excerpt from “Ballade of the Unattainable”, Books and Bookmen, by Andrew Lang, New York, George J. Coombes, 1886
…
Prince, bear a hopeless Bard’s appeal;
Reverse the rule of Mine and Thine;
Make it legitimate to steal
The Books that never can be mine!
I gave the book to a friend long ago, only to find it drew me into woodworking! Krenov seemed to express a tension or ambiguity by saying he was “fascinated” by the variety of woods before he learned to find the variety within it (p. 9). Degas only became Degas by sticking to what he knew and loved to do. However, making a living or the requirements of a customer require variety, and it may be that we find our way like the sculptor: “I carved away everything that wasn’t [the subject].” Despite saying the old ways were impossibly impractical, Krenov persisted — perhaps of necessity but in the hope of “discovery: something happening…more than you expect (p. 8).” It seems that he found a straight line (p. 14) isn’t just for its own sake. Without struggle there is no discovery and no satisfaction (p.15). The poem which introduces the book gives a big clue: “I guarded my spirit.” Forgive the reference, but Eastern Orthodoxy would agree. Thoughts other than the material and the purpose will lead us astray. Purity requires “discipline and concentration (p. 12).” A noted photographer was asked,”How did you make that photograph [i.e. equipment, etc.].” Pointing to his heart, his reply was direct: “How could I put on paper there what I didn’t have here.” I’m excited to re-visit Krenov’s work in hopes of finding more of why I love wood and tools.
“My way of working is just a long series of personal discoveries. I can’t give anyone secrets…”
I’m probably the pariah of this group. I have only read A Cabinetmaker’s Notebook penned by Krenov. I do not intend to demean the man, but a lot of what he offers applies to someone in a similar mold that made James Krenov.
The quote at the beginning of this post sums up well my feelings about the book. James is sharing his personal discoveries which I can deeply appreciate–it’s tough to put yourself out there in barely filtered raw form. James’ preference for air dried wood inspired me to try the same and now I always look for air dried white Oak. The pictured piece Floor cabinet-showcase in Lemonwood is enough to make me throw my tools in the trash because I will never approach that level of skill. Obviously, I’m not from a similar mold.
Krenov styles himself an amateur, yet he actively pursued the 10% or so of people that could afford his work–something for which serious artists strive. He talks about the market pressure to relent in the quality of craftsmanship and offers encouragement to buck up and soldier on to produce the best work possible–something for which only the true amateur has time. I find it hard to reconcile these seeming opposites in my life, thus I dismiss a lot of the prose aimed at either extreme.
After reading the book the first time, I tried to put supreme effort into every aspect of a couple projects. One night I was about 35-40 minutes in to a tall thin panel glue up for the back of a clock. The glue was setting up and the panel took on a slight waviness from top to bottom. I chased that waviness around by moving clamps every which way until I finally realized that the style of work espoused by Krenov is not my style. Shop time comes in 3-4 hour increments. I can chase a slight imperfection in a never seen part of the project, or spend that time making the dentil molding on the face and sides of the clock blend seamlessly. Plus, I should someday buy pipe clamps and pipe long enough to sandwich a similar piece lengthwise. Yes, I now know that frame and panel or tongue and grooved are better solutions; you go to war with the army you have.
I do find solace in Krenov’s approach to appreciating the wood for itself. Form matters, but should not reign supreme. The opposite is also true in that beautiful wood will not save a crap design.
Also, his anti-consumerism is something that has been a part of my life–forever. The refrain of ‘make, make do, or do without’ has always brought a sort of austere comfort in times good and bad.
I just realized this is getting way to long. Almost time to click submit. In summary, I like a lot of what Krenov has to say, but I’m not a fan boy/groupie/convert. Let the roasting begin.
No roasting from me Scott – it actually sounds like you’ve taken quite a bit away from it. Thanks for writing.
I agree that he was looking for an audience that was more attuned to his way of working – maybe obsessive, or consumed by woodworking, and impractically choosing to pursue that outside of the concerns for income, efficiency or appreciation. We can’t all work that way! But, it is an aspirational way to approach things, one that (even when I have just a few short hours to spend in the shop) I still work towards keeping in my head.
From the photos I have seen, Krenov’s craftsmanship was quite good. That said, I think he placed a heavier emphasis on design, proportion, grain and as he would write “friendliness.” He probably obsessed over air tight dovetails less than we think. I (personally) think many amateurs get that all backward. They obsess over air tight (and exposed) joinery and miss the big picture. His was a big picture obsession, in my opinion.
Not sure you receive blog posts from LAP but this one is all about James Krenov.
God Bless
Rob D
“Students are forever running to libraries to get various books – on peasant art, Scandinavian modern, Shaker, Colonial, Indian – one this and one that. They fill their heads with all these images, and then frantically try to come up with something of their own. As though you put these ingredients in a kettle, add water, stir, and cook for two hours. What do you get? Pottage. Pea soup.
It’s a losing battle. And so exhausting. Stay out of it. It took me a long time to realize this, and accept my unoriginal self. Try to find the sort of people for whom there is another originality – that of the quiet object in unquiet times.”
James Krenov, “A Cabinetmaker’s Notebook” p.45
This quote can be read/interpreted from a few angles and while not trying to disparage JK I think this quote expresses the complexity in his vision as a furniture maker. Furniture students seek exposure to furniture history to gain a sense of aesthetic self often through assimilating details and mimicking concepts. I think this exploration process is valuable, essential and exciting for the developing craftsperson. Is JK discouraging creative exploration? How does one find their voice if they don’t explore other’s ideas? The quote is a slippery slope – is he saying don’t follow that path, follow me instead?
I think he is saying to not forcefully create your style, but let it happen naturally. Krenov has never claimed to be an academic, nor does his past lend itself to such a characterization. Basically, I think this is a blue collar statement from a blue collar guy saying pretty much you don’t need all the high falutin influences to have a style all your own.
I agree w/part of his sentiment – inexperienced furniture students often grab aesthetic elements and apply them out of context which makes their designs awkward. That said there is a rich history of furniture making, it is difficult understanding and assimilating influence, good teachers who comprehend making technique, aesthetics and cultural influence are hard to come by.
I’ll agree with Scott – he’s saying that he’d seen students trying to force an aesthetic, by mish-mashing other styles or influences, which results in “pottage.” Instead, he encourages his audience to look for people working towards another goal, a “quiet” aesthetic that doesn’t attempt originality for its own sake. That’s certainly somethign he strove for, but I don’t think he’s saying “follow me,” more like “look for others (myself being one) that pursue a different kind of aesthetic.”
It’s important to note that he’d encountered a lot of sympathizers and detractors, in students and colleagues, well before the books were written. He taught at RIT and BU, and I think this reaction is in part based on the attitudes (and oppositions) he encountered in those schools. In Wendell Castle’s and Bill Keyser’s own words (head teachers at RIT in the late 1960s and early 1970s, respectively), RIT was in pursuit of “innovation,” and was successful in that – they generated a lot of novel craftspeople and amazing work. People like Jere Osgood, Dan Jackson, Alphonse Mattia and Michael Hurwitz came from those programs and aesthetic pursuits.
Krenov’s was a different approach – he wasn’t after novelty or innovation, but a more conservative aesthetic, maybe “timeless” or something along those lines. I won’t make the call as to which has more value as a motivating goal (I think that’s opinion) but he did approach aesthetics quite differently than many of his contemporaries, and that’s where this quote comes from. I will say (this is certainly opinion) that a majority of Krenov’s pieces escape looking “dated” or “trendy” in my eyes (not all, but a good many), something that many others at the time weren’t as successful in accomplishing. This is something I’ll hope to capture in the biography with a dated piece gallery, which might help illustrate how Krenov’s aesthetics developed and how his work followed a different stream than many other makers at the time.
To your question, “How does one find their voice if they don’t explore other’s ideas?”: To Krenov’s eyes (and I agree with him here) there are other ways to build and stylize your work than following the aesthetics of others. Pursuing the techniques and ways of working you enjoy can lead you down some avenues of form and expression – if you like steam bending, you might work on perfecting curves and figurative pieces, if you like joinery and exciting wood grain (like Krenov) you might pursue cabinet or surfaces with large areas that can display those figured woods. He’s encouraging people to find their own voice by pursuing the work they find fulfilling (there’s more context to the quote, and we’ll be getting to that section of the book in a week or two). It’s also worth noting – his audience was big, but with this encouragement, I think he’s talking to people that were as consumed or enthusiastic about wodoworking as himself. I don}t think he believed that every weekend hobbyist needed to come up with their own style, but that if you were serious about making furniture, it would be worth your time to reflect on your process and materials to find an aesthetic that suited you (and not a trend or mashup).
I’ll also say that people fall into the same trap with Krenov – google “Krenov-inspired cabinet” and you’ll see a lot of horrible versions of people getting “pottage” by trying to imitate or build on Krenov’s aesthetic.
I am a very amateur woodworking so am cautious about saying I understand the challenges faced by a business of building one of a kind wood furniture or related items. But my full time job does give insight into the challenge of running a business that strives for quality in a market driven economy. I am an attorney who owned a solo or small firm law practice in a small town in the Midwest. My philosophy was to deliver to farmers the quality of legal services provided by Wall Street law firms to publicly held corporation. I was able to follow this philosophy and provide myself and my family with a good living. I knew work had to get completed (I called it getting it out the door.) but wanted that work to be of the highest quality possible. In the process I did attend many continuing education programs, read many articles, and belonged to legal organizations. I did not, however, cut and paste others work into my documents. The contents of the document had to meet the needs of the client not be some form grabbed from somewhere else. No two trusts, wills, or contracts were the same. But the product did need to be completed and delivered at a reasonable price. It is in the philosophy of James Krenov that I pursured my business plan. I am now retired so that is why I write in the past tense. So I do understand the challenge of understanding the market while also making a profit but that does not mean we can not strife for high quality.