When I grew up, we had a red Lada 1200. It was a 1982 model, a compact four-door sedan, produced in the The Soviet Union. It was a primitive and humble car. Nothing fancy anywhere. No bling or stylish features. But it was affordable, reliable and easy to repair. And most importantly it was built for driving across Russia’s vast and frosty tundras. So it came with a hand crank. That way the car could be started if you were stranded with a flat battery in deep Siberia and the wolves were coming. Or in a modern Norwegian suburb.
The car fit us well. It was, of course, frowned upon by those who could afford the arrogance. We didn’t care. It had four wheels and could take a beating. My parents were working class. They had to get their priorities right. Meaning whenever there was anything left after paying the bills, they weren’t going to spend it on flashy stuff.
And just like the Lada, everything we owned soon lived up to the same principle. Whether it was our house, our furniture or our clothes – it was made to be used, repaired and then used again. This mindset seeped into everything, and I soon grew up appreciating modest and honest designs. I learned that beauty lies in simplicity, both in principle and form. And patina wasn’t even a word. It was just a consequence.
And while this might be a stretch: The first time I laid eyes on a Welsh stick chair, I instantly fell in love. Something very familiar pulled me in. Just like our Soviet car, the chair was honest and uncomplicated. No user manual needed. No fancy turnings or flamboyant design features. It was rugged, yet simple and elegant. It was the most beautiful and honest chair I had ever seen. Huge personality. No secrets. I trusted it.
I realised that these commonplace chairs reflect life. Like people, each and every one of them were unique. Made to meet a need, without plans, from materials available at hand, they were all direct manifestations of their makers and owners. They were postcards from the past. Like an old woman’s wrinkled face or a working man’s crooked back, they told stories I could believe in.
They were imperfectly perfect. Repairs, scars and bruises just blended into their personality. There was nothing to hide. If I ever found an old stick chair with a hand crank under the seat, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be very surprised.
Very nice story. Thank you for sharing your insight. “Imperfectly perfect” I love it!
Thank you so much, Anthony!! Really glad you like it! And you, like me, are imperfectly perfect!
Such a wonderful article. I am just starting woodworking and maybe this is a chair that I can make. My wife has been been asking me to see if I can make one, just to see it’s the sea but every time I see all the curves and the arches and a chair I just would just not do it. I am in the process of making a workbench , what a comedy of errors that was, But I finally got it done , Now I’m adding drawers underneath. So instead of the chair maybe I’ll start off with a Stool.
Hey, Steve! Glad you like it! I’ll just quote Chris here, who says: “If I can make a decent looking chair, everyone can!”. I can say the same about me – if I can, you can. We all make errors, it’s just part of the game. I’ve never made a workbench, so you’re even ahead of me already!
…what a comedy of errors that was…
Learning opportunities. Just a humble suggestion, but try making a Dutch tool chest next. It is a very approachable project and gives you something useful in the end. A staked stool is also a great next project (among an infinite number of great next projects): https://blog.lostartpress.com/2017/04/11/download-plans-for-the-staked-high-stool/
Point is, keep building. Don’t sweat the screw ups–and don’t ask anyone else for their screw-ups unless you have a lot</b? of time on your hands. 🙂
koselig , you can translate for the readers
I’m glad you find it cozy!
Wonderful looking chair….are the measurements available? ….and additional photos? I would like to build one that is similar.
Thank you.
Hey, Greg! I’m sorry, but I don’t have any measurements for this exact chair. However, a good place to start if you want to build one that is similar, is The Stick Chair Book. Take a look here in the books section and you’ll find it. It will guide you through every step of making a chair like this. Thanks!
Start out by figuring the seat height should be around 16″ high, or somewhere thereabouts. Otherwise the chair gets uncomfortable to sit in for long. At least, your feet should reach flat on the floor. Scale the rest from there. Also, take care when figuring the angle of the back. Too much, or too little, and it’s going to feel uncomfortable. Designing is the most important part.
Thank you so much. You’ve encapsulated so much of my thoughts about these marvellous chairs. Excellent article.
John, thank you so much. That means a lot for me to hear.
And just like the Lada, Welsh chairs do not require elaborate tools or machinery to work on them!
Exactly!
For us, it was an old Datsun station wagon, but the story is much the same. Thanks for putting these feelings so nicely into words.
Hey, Jeremy! So funny that you’re mentioning the Datsun. When our Lada died, we bought a Datsun. Definitely in the same ball park! Thank you for your kind words.
Ah, well. Old Datsuns. One of my band mates had one when we were in our early 20s, in the mid 1980s, and I have very vivid memories of going in that car from the South of Sweden to play at a festival in Årjäng in Värmland (a distance of about 250 miles). It was a rather warm week (high 20s C°/mid 80s F°), and the car had a faulty radiator, so the only way to stop it from overheating was to keep the heating on at full blast. It was thus hot enough in the car, even with the windows wound down, but as an added bonus, the engineers at Datsun had very thoughtfully provided the driver with a hot air outlet aimed straight at the accelerator, and thus on the one body part – the right foot – that one just couldn’t move or put elsewhere.
We took it in frequent turns to drive.
Cheers,
Mattias
Good post , I identify with your family’s outlook on life. If Ladas were available here in the Yukon Territory of Canada, I would own one! I also like the imperfect perfectness of stick chairs, perhaps because I am also imperfect and I’m ok with that, in fact I celebrate it!
Ladas were certainly sold in Canada in the 80s. I know, I had neighbours who owned one. This was around the time my dad got rid of the Datsun and bought the Peugeot 504 (yeah, Peugeots we’re sold in Canada back then too). Another simple, solid, car.
I did not think a Lada could die. I do fully agree with the functional is beauty stance. Probably why I so enjoy Shaker furniture.
That was a good article. It took me a while to love the stick chair form but once it grabbed me …its all over now baby blue, I have to learn to build chairs. And I am glad to be on this road with you guys. It is an exciting time to be a woodworker. I think the car and the chairs both embody the spirit of slojd.
That makes me so happy to hear! Glad to have you on the stick chair team! Definitely a great time to be a woodworker. Let me know when you’ve made your first stick chair!
The Lada Riva is one of the all time great cars. The soviets bought Fiat tooling and then kept an abandoned model going for decades and decades. In the 90’s, the most common vehicle for use as a gypsy cab was an old Lada because it was the economy car of the USSR. My soft spot for Rivas developed through a great many wonderful near death experiences in Ladas. The tram chicken game, the sidewalk driving game. So many great memories.
I once rode with a Chechen doctor who’s Lada was miraculously operational. There were visible repairs utilizing 2x4s and bailing wire. The passenger floorboard was rotted enough to see the road and also let in the exhaust leaks. The effect of those fumes only magnified the trip. It included mostly wide open throttle, which isn’t that fast in a Lada but feels much faster and especially in this particular Lada. Understandably for a Chechen, he was not particularly fond of Russians. So he made a game of buzzing babushkas at full speed. I tried not to join his yelled chant of “Russian Swine” but at a certain point it seemed like the only thing that would get him to start looking at the road again. We did a left turn, full drift across four lanes of traffic and into four lanes of oncoming traffic on a bridge. He used the sidewalk at one point. And then for the last turn he ran a light, drifted through the intersection in front of a bus so that all i could see was the bumper and grill of that bus in the passenger window. That drift ended with both passenger side wheels striking the curb in front of my dorm. The car lifted onto two wheels before slamming down. I staggered out, high from the fumes and surprised to be alive. He asked me to say hi to Bill Clinton and thank Bill for supporting the Chechan people before tearing off in a cloud of oily blue smoke. All hail the Lada
That is the best story I’ve heard in a long time. I don’t know what else to say. You have my respect.
In Soviet Russia, chair stick YOU!
Yeah those old chairs are such a great history, and its amazing how long they have lasted. I have bought flat pack chairs that are lucky to last a year.
Great article – beautiful chair
Very nice post Klaus. Thanks.
I enjoy getting the full use of a thing. One of my cats feels there should be limits. He peed on my very old, very used work boots by the back door a couple of weeks ago. Apparently he had enough, and out they went.
Hey, John! Thanks so much. That means a lot coming from you. And I fully agree – getting the full use of things is the way to go. Well put. I recently put one of my slippers too close to the woodstove and burned a hole in it. It’s now basically just half a slipper. I’m not letting go of it yet. And I don’t have cats.
“It was, of course, frowned upon by those who could afford the arrogance.”
Back in high school I played rugby, and we mostly played teams from the city, including a couple private schools. One day we had an away game at one of these schools, and as we arrived the field was being used for soccer practice by the girl’s private school team.
As the rest of us got ready, one of my teammates shows up late, driving by the field in his Lada Niva full of about 4 other guys hanging out the windows – honking, hooting, and hollering at these girls practicing. And as they do I see one of these ladies roll her eyes with a disgusted look on her face and scowl “Nice car, a**hole.”
Haha. I’m so glad that all of these Lada stories are popping up here! And yes – spot on with the arrogant chick. She missed out for sure! Lada Niva for the win!
I feel the same way about Saabs. I had 3 of them, the first being an ‘85 900. They balanced ugly and unique in a way that they became beautiful and in most places, like Volvos of the same era, were used as workhorses that both drove well (especially in snow) and would last forever if taken care of (which was easy to do).
Every once in a great while, even now, I will find old Eastern European contractors in a big box parking lot shoving full sheets of plywood or drywall into the back of an old Swedish wagon or hatchback and closing the trunk. Always a great sight.
If you’re in the market for a Lada Alphacars in Boxborough, MA is a great dealership. They have eight Ladas in-stock. https://www.alphacars.com/
Well, they’re increasing in value – most of the ones on their site are 25000 dollars and above!
In Croatia I fell in love with a Zastava. Not sure how those compare to Ladas. Or if a Lada is a Welsh Stick chair, what kind of chair a Zastava would be.
Great article! I just finished reading The Stick Chair book plus James Brown’s and Christopher Williams’, I think I’m ready to build one now!
In Finland, where there are many Ladas, and many narrow two-lane roads, they have a saying that the start of a long convoy is whenever a lorry is immediately followed by a Lada.