The July floods in Eastern Kentucky that devastated communities also tried to erase part of the area’s history. Audio tapes stored at Appalshop were soaked with floodwaters and later covered with mold.
Appalshop has been salvaging what they can, and have been digitizing some of the gems they have unearthed. This is an expensive process, so donations to Appalshop are always appreciated.
Today Appalshop released the excerpt above that features Chester Cornett being interviewed by Elizabeth Barret. In the interview, Chester gripes about what all furniture makers complain about – how difficult it is to make a living selling handmade furniture. It’s worth your three minutes.
The early title leader for my upcoming book about Appalachian chairmakers was “Backwoods Chairs,” but I’m now leaning toward “Upwards into the Mountains.” The decision needs to happen soon because my book is nearing the final stages. The search is complete (thank you to those who sent me names and leads after my previous blog posts about the project [post 1, post 2]), the interviews and visits have all happened and the narrative is written. I’m currently editing, adding the photography and working through the chair builds.
As a first-time author I’ve come to recognize two things: 1) I enjoy the process of writing a book and 2) I’m slow at it. But there’s a light at the end of the tunnel at this point.
I’m working toward having the manuscript to Lost Art Press this fall.
Late last week I reached out to Eastern Kentucky chairmaker Terry Ratliff (he’s among those featured in the upcoming book) about a teaching opportunity. That was before I was aware of the severe flooding to hit communities in eastern Kentucky and southwestern Virginia. I followed up with a text to Ratliff to wish him well. He was at a local lutherie shop on the main street in Hindman, Ky., at the time, scraping the thick mud off anything salvageable in the bench room. He relayed the overwhelming mess he saw all around him.
Once the waters receded the full impact and devastation became apparent. The floodwater climbed higher than any time on record in some places. In the charming mountain town of Whitesburg, Ky., near the Virginia border, the North Fork Kentucky River rose more than 20′.
For those unfamiliar with the terrain of eastern Kentucky, there are lower lying, narrow bands of land between the rocky, rugged knobs and mountains. The lower land frequently has a creek or river running through it. Heavy rains funnel into these waterways – this time more than ever before. This was deemed a “once in a millenia” storm: water over rooftops, refrigerators caught up in treetops, homes carried downriver and significant loss of life.
An environmental tragedy immediately became a human tragedy. Entire communities were slammed in the storm. The tight-knit Kentucky towns of Jackson, Neon, Hindman, Whitesburg and Hazard, among more rural other places, were hit hard.
There’s also an impact on the cultural centers within the mountains. The Hindman Settlement School and the Troublesome Creek Stringed Instrument Company are digging out, working to salvage as much as possible. At Appalshop, an Appalachian cultural archive and media center in downtown Whitesburg, a crew works to recover soiled materials before they deteriorate. Those in the community collect what’s floated away.
From an article in Smithsonian Magazine: “‘Some of the film from Appalshop was all through the streets and everything,’ Austin Caudill, a Whitesburg resident, tells the Lexington Herald-Leader’s Billl Estep and Austin Horn. ‘We could lose not just businesses but history.’”
Why mention this here?
Because below I share my travels to Whitesburg in April, 2021, to photograph and study Chester Cornett’s “Appalshop chair.” And because the affected communities are home to a group of eastern Kentucky chairmakers, both past and present. The floods impact Terry Ratliff’s community (while also hitting those of the late Sherman Wooton (Hyden) and Chester Cornett (Perry County). And because within Appalachia, more than any other place I’ve lived or visited, the strands of craft, community, people and place are all tightly woven together.
But most importantly, these communities need immediate resources to aid in stabilization, recovery and rebuilding. There are opportunities to help.
Now to the unicorn that is the “Appalshop Chair,” created by the visionary chairmaker Chester Cornett (visionary: as in some of his chairs came to him in visions and dreams), crafted during the recording of the 1981 Appalshop film “Hand Carved.” Appalshop then purchased the chair. It resides in their archives. I do not know its condition after the flood.
It was unusually cold for April, with flurries in the afternoon. No leaves on the trees just yet. The North Fork Kentucky River ran low and quiet beside Appalshop’s building.
I traveled to Whitesburg to visit Cornett’s chair. I’d wanted to see it in person since reading Michael Owen Jones’s book “Craftsman of the Cumberlands.” In it, Jones shares a photograph of the 13-slat double-rocker, making mention that this was the last chair Cornett built, meaning this was the culmination of Cornett’s fabled and prolific chairmaking career, the pinnacle of his skills and final iteration of his making choices. I hoped to study it myself and photograph it for my book.
The archivist met me at our arranged time. Wearing white gloves, she brought the rocker out of storage. My first impression was how solid and substantial the piece looks in person. Each chair part was shaped with the drawknife before being scraped smooth. Cornett added an extra-special touch to this piece before applying his mystery concoction of finishing oils. He stayed up all night before final filming to add a little “old-timeyness” to the chair by scorching it with a Coleman campfire burner to create a mottled effect. The initial impression by those who witnessed the chair the following day was best described as “aghast.” The scorching has mellowed over time. It’s most noticeable on the back slats.
I was delighted when Elizabeth Barrett and Herb Smith joined us to talk about their time working with Cornett. They are the filmmakers behind “Hand Carved,” and continue to work with Appalshop 30+ years later. It was their skill and insight that brought about the film. Near the end of the recording process, they realized the chair was something special – something Appalshop should own and preserve. They found the money to make it happen (not the easiest thing to do; creative rural organizations are not known for deep pockets) and it’s lived within Appalshop ever since.
While the chair has always resided with Appalshop, it has not lived a life of ease. Terry Ratliff shared that, years back, he was asked to repair the piece. A summer intern’s dog gnawed on one of the rockers. A rung had worked loose. The chair was a fixture in the staff meetings and was available for everyday rocking. Ratliff, who holds Cornett in high esteem and knows the specialness of the piece, suggested the chair receive a more protected status.
Functionally, the double rocker is not a comfortable chair. The sitter must spread their legs or sit cross-legged to avoid the middle posts. The front rungs rake against the sitter’s calves if they’re not careful.
It was not made for comfort; it was made for attention and to earn a decent price for the labor needed to make it. During my visit, someone at Appalshop shared a memory of Cornett carrying his chairs to Hazard on a Friday, setting up beside a busy road to sell them, and him still being there – with his chairs – into Sunday afternoon. He made beautiful, traditional chairs but there was little local market for them. This pressure pushed him toward new ideas, in hopes of recognition and higher income. If people didn’t want his gorgeous traditional rockers, maybe a double rocker would catch their attention. Though it didn’t work exactly as Cornett intended, he began making more fantastical chairs which garnered him increased recognition (including in Jones’ book), though it did not fully alleviate his financial situation.
A few details: The Appalshop double-rocker is 47″ tall overall, with the seat at 17″ from the floor; it’s 18″ deep overall at the seat (not including the rockers). It’s made of sweet gum, with (likely) hickory rungs and a hickory bark seat. The writing on the slats:
Chester
Hand Carved
For the fiming
The Appleshop
Moviey Caled
Check the Chiremaker
Direxed buy
Heirb Smith
Elizabeth Barret
President Applshop
Pine Mountin Wood
Mad I.N. N. OV. A, DEC 1977
With Our Lords Help
Scholars debate whether Cornett was an artist or a traditional craftsperson. Being the last of his illustrious career, this chair would fall on the “art” side of Cornett’s creative timeline. But that debate doesn’t interest me all that much.
I’m drawn in by the form, the silhouette that appears compact, well-proportioned and balanced when glancing at the rocker from across the room. It’s hefty but not grotesque. Confusing maybe, but I’ve visited the form enough times to enjoy its uniqueness. Move closer to it and the intricate, tightly woven seat becomes apparent, along with scraped surfaces and the octagonal posts and rungs that became a defining characteristic of Cornett’s work. But I’m most drawn to the carved pegs and the drawknife work – details that are only noticeable on close examination, and that elevate the rocker because of the skill and the time involved and the commitment of the maker. These details are noticeably irregular, because Cornett was human and handwork is not perfect.
With Chester’s chairs, there is incredible beauty found in the imperfections.
I have been stuck in a little too deep on peasant furniture and have forgotten to announce this: I am presenting at Colonial Williamsburg’s 26th annual “Working Wood in the 18th Century” conference Jan. 25-28.
This year’s theme is “By the Book,” and it will focus on the relationship between the printed word and woodworking. I was asked to give a presentation on the history of woodworking books (one of my favorite topics), and I’ll also do a demonstration on using M. Hulot’s workbench for chairmaking operations.
Hulot’s bench is so ubiquitous among chairmakers that even Chester Cornett in Eastern Kentucky worked on one. And it is still used today.
Also Lost Art Press-related, Whitney B. Miller, author of “Henry Boyd’s Freedom Bed” will present a talk on Henry Boyd and the development of his life story into a children’s book.
Of course, the conference schedule is packed with demonstrations by top-notch woodworkers and carpenters, and I am excited to be able to sit in on many of the presentations. Check out the list here. I’m particularly excited to see Harold Caldwell, Mary Herbert and Shelby Christensen’s presentation on Joseph Moxon’s techniques in his section on carpentry.
In-person registration for the event closes tomorrow at midnight. So make a decision in the clutch and make the trip if you can. Register here.
If you register or already registered, please leave a comment below. If there are enough Lost Art Press readers going, perhaps we can organize a happy hour or a meet-up during the conference.
I hope to see you there. This is my first visit to Colonial Williamsburg (really!), so be gentle.
The copy editing changes are done, the interior design is locked down and we’re almost done with the dust jacket (the front of its current incarnation is shown above). We have a few last questions to sort, then “Backwoods Chairmakers: In Search of the Appalachian Ladderback Chairmaker,” by Andrew D. Glenn, will be off to press (click on the title to sign up to be notified when the book is available).
Below is an introduction by Andy to some of the makers of Appalachian ladderbacks covered in the book, and a look at their work. (To read Andy’s previous posts on the book, click here.)
– Fitz
While working on “Backwoods Chairmakers” for the past four years, the questions I’ve most frequently been asked are: “What is an Appalachian ladderback chair?” and “Are the makers passing it along?”
What is it? An Appalachian ladderback often has posts that bend backward above the seat, with a woven seat (hickory bark is common) and minimal ornamentation. That’s a common definition, but it fails to recognize the variation and creativity within the tradition, as you’ll see from the chairs presented here.
Is it being passed on? That question requires a more nuanced response. The chairmakers are sharing their knowledge, both with family and with those interested. A major challenge is the market for handmade chairs. I visited chairmakers who shared that chairmaking pointed towards a better life for earlier generations of their family. That’s not always the case today, with health insurance, a living wage and retirement to consider.
Every chairmaker’s situation is unique (as are their chairs). Each of them entered chairmaking, or continued in the family tradition, for their own reasons. I share some of those stories in “BackwoodsChairmakers.” And that’s all a maker can do – share their knowledge. It’s out of their hands at that point. The next generation must find the way to carry things forward.
What follows is a sample of Appalachian chairmakers and opportunities to connect with them or their work. Some are more public and accessible than others.
Brian Boggs. Brian makes high-end chairs and custom furniture in Asheville, North Carolina. He started his chairmaking career with the Jennie Alexander chair and a small set of hand tools. The Berea Chair, shown here, is a beautiful, contemporary design. While Brian no longer makes or teaches this chair, Jeff Lefkowitz and David Douyard both run classes on this form, as do Eric Cannizzaro and Mark Hicks. \You can find Brian’s work at www.brianboggschairmakers.com and he shares tips and techniques at boggsbench.com.
The chairs of Cannon County, Tennessee. These are cottage-industry chairs, with each chairmaker working from home in a mechanized, production-oriented shop. There are a handful of chairs on display at The Arts Center of Cannon County. One chairmaker in Cannon County has a website, Ronnie Smith of Mountain Chairs.
James Cooper. James, who left chairmaking in the 1990s and is now an artist, says he “will be the fifth generation to be put in the family plot,” which is on a Jackson County, Kentucky, ridge a short distance from his homestead.
Tom Donahey. Tom shares his experience with those around Brasstown, North Carolina. His YouTube channel, Chairman Tom, is his way of reaching others with shavehorse and chairmaking knowledge.
Michael Houston. Michael says he “caught the tail end of old-time culture in eastern Kentucky.” He’s lived in Colorado since 1994, and carries parts of that eastern Kentucky mountain culture with him today. You can see more of his work at Michael Houston Custom Furniture.
Chester Cornett (1913-1981). Chester was an eastern Kentucky chairmaker who lived in Cincinnati during the last 10 years of his life. He made beautiful traditional chairs before making eye-catching rockers. A few of his chairs are available to view at the Kentucky Folk Art Center in Morehead, Kentucky.
Newberry & Sons‘ Chairs. The Newberrys, of Red Boiling Springs, Tennessee, turn their chairs at the lathe and harvest hickory bark. I believe they are the largest commercial provider of hickory bark; they sell it directly to chairmakers (you can find ordering information on the website).
Mason Alexander. Mason has no website or phone number. Those interested in his chairs must travel his Rockcastle County, Kentucky, lane to place an order. Over the years, Mason has helped a number of interested chairmakers, but he said no one stuck with it (perhaps his grandson, Dylan, who helps Mason with the chairs and has made chairs himself, will be the exception).
Randy Ogle. Randy, of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, is the third generation in his family of chairmakers and furniture makers. He has a shop and showroom on the Craft Loop Road. I recommend visiting when you’re in the vicinity. If you can’t visit in person, visit his website.
Dick Poynor (1802-1882). Dick was a prolific chairmaker, and formerly enslaved person, in Williamson County, Tennessee. He worked with a horse-powered lathe to turn his chair parts. examples of his chairs are in the collections at the Museum of Early Southern Decorative Arts (MESDA) and Yale University. Robell Awake and Charlie Ryland are preparing a show about their research on the work of Dick Poynor for the Center of Craft in Asheville, North Carolina. They are also teaching a Poynor-style chair at Pine Croft in Berea in spring 2024.
Tom Lynch. Tom is a retired chairmaker in Rock Cave, West Virginia. Throughout his long career, he taught and wrote articles for woodworking magazines in addition to making chairs. His formal chairs are turned, often in cherry, with an acorn as a finial – a decorative touch that led to his business name, Lucky Acorn Chairs.
Terry Ratliff. Terry, an eastern Kentucky chairmaker, utilizes the natural movement in the wood, such as crooks and bends, to produce the unique look of his work. He has been a guest speaker/instructor at GreenWood Wrights’Fest for the past few years, and also teaches at craft schools and at local festivals.
Lyle Wheeler. Lyle, of Millers Creek, North Carolina, shows his chairs at a number of craft shows and sheep and wool festivals. He has also taught at the John C. Campbell craft school.
Sherman Wooton (1910-2004). Sherman started making chairs later in life, after returning to his childhood home in Hyden, Kentucky. His chairs are found in private collections and were sold in galleries within Appalachia.
The first section of my forthcoming book, “Backwoods Chairs,”documents my search for the dwindling ranks of Appalachian woven-bottom chairmakers who count(ed) chairmaking as a significant income. The income piece is essentially my only criteria for the makers: that chairmaking provides at least a part of their livelihood. I had no real idea what to expect when I started my search for ladderback chairmakers. Try as I might to dislodge the romantic vision of a mountain maker working wood on a secluded front porch of a cabin, that stereotype lingered in my brain as I started the search. At times, I found a maker shaving wood parts on the porch. Other times, the idyllic vision was incomplete – as when I visited a maker shaving parts next to a generator, which powered the lunchbox planer used to thickness his chair slats.
Appalachian post-and-rung chairmaking is far more complex than I initially imagined. For starters, the makers do not fit into simple categories. Some make all their income through chairmaking, and others a portion of it. Some do it seasonally, either working around their farm’s growing season or working in the shop during the summer months. One person did not consider himself a “chairmaker” at all, though chairmaking has been a constant in his life for five decades. The whole thing is squishy.
I also recommend readers put aside any tidy categories when considering the makers. The lines between “amateur” and “professional” blur to the point that they are no longer relevant. I found “part-time” and “full-time” categories to be pointless as well. At the end of the day, there are either chairs or no chairs.*
I sought out makers of the basic post-and-rung form, though each maker creates distinctly different work. I think of it this way: Chester Cornett could only make a Cornett chair, and Brian Boggs could only make a Boggs chair (I know, that statement is so simple that it’s stupid). The chair is a reflection of the maker; the maker DNA is right there for all to see. The Cornett chair reveals the use of the knife, and Chester measured everything by his hands and thumbs. His approach helps create that magic in his work, and it’s a constant across his career, from his beautiful common chairs as a younger man to his bombastic late-career rockers.
Boggs’ chairs are refined and highly engineered. There is intention behind each detail, both in the design and the technique. Boggs’ ladderback chair was reimagined into a modern piece in his Berea Chair until it could not be improved upon. Brian took a form typically considered rustic and backwoods and reimagined it for a contemporary setting. He did that by making a chair with equal consideration toward comfort, technique and design. Cornett and Boggs – two chairmakers beginning at the same post-and-rung starting point, yet yielding wonderfully different results.
Whenever possible, I traveled to meet, interview and photograph the makers. I wanted the opportunity to explain by book in person and figured this was my best approach to record and reflect on the makers in the fullest light. The initial interview and meeting proved helpful, especially for photography, but the follow-up proved most fruitful. The makers could size me up and determine if they wanted to provide more to this project. One maker showed me the door after 20 minutes. That bruised my ego a little (was it something I said?) but most followed up by sending pictures and sharing additional stories and techniques. Like James Cooper, most wanted me to get this right. That meant educating me on all things chairmaking.
I met Cooper of Jackson County, Ky., earlier this year. We sat on his porch during an early spring downpour and discussed his approach to chairmaking. James crafted handmade chairs as his primary income source for three years in the late 1970s and early 1980s then decided to make a career change. He followed up our initial conversation by sending 10 pages of written notes and a collection of his early photography. With it, he opened my eyes to his reality of making chairs in Eastern Kentucky.
The notes are shared here with his permission.
– Andy Glenn
* A note about categories. I request that the reader does not overlay “morality” onto the chairmaker’s decisions (as in, one decision is morally superior to another). There is a tendency within woodworking circles to philosophically judge the work of others, where handwork can be judged of more value than machine approaches (and this, being a Lost Art Press publication, will likely reach those who appreciate handwork). I propose that an outsider has no say in the decisions of the maker. Decisions are purely personal choices made by the chairmaker.
One example: the chairmakers I met in the process of the book made the following decisions regarding their chair rungs; 1) split and shaved 2) turned from lumber 3) store-bought dowels 4) made on a dowel machine 5) handheld power planer to shape and taper them after using a brace to cut the tenon on the end. One choice is not philosophically superior than another – at least as far as an outsider can judge.
My goal is finding out why the maker decided upon an approach or technique. Is it because they work within an established tradition? Is it for speed and efficiency? Is their design target “old-timeyness” (which deserve the shaved rungs)? Regardless of the answer to those questions, I recommend the “handwork is more pure than machines” belief be suppressed when considering the work of others. Only the chairmaker gets to make that “moral” decision about their work.