Lost Art Press

Author: fitz

Woodworker, writer, editor, teacher, ailurophile, Shakespearean. Will write for air-dried walnut.

Presentation Drawings

Posted on by fitz
Fig. 33.1. Good watercolours send a clear message to the prospect that we have “a creative” in charge here. That’s a good thing.

The following is excerpted from “The Intelligent Hand,” by David Binnington Savage – a peek into a woodworking life that’s at a level that most of us can barely imagine. The customers are wealthy and eccentric. The designs have to leap off the page. And the craftsmanship has to be utterly, utterly flawless.

How does one get to this point? And how do you stay there?

One answer to these questions is in this book. Yes, the furniture can be technically difficult to make. But a lot of the hard labor involves some unexpected skills. Listening. Seeing. Drawing. And looking into the mirror and practicing the expression: “And that will cost 20,000 pounds.”

If I were learning to create presentation drawings now, I would probably not be learning analogue skills, but instead go straight to computer-aided design (CAD). A good-quality program that will link properly to a computer-aided manufacture (CAM) program would be the tool here – not a cheap 2D version, but one that will show you the job, turning it around to show it from all angles. I am reliably told that a good two years should see you fluent in CAD. We teach the possibilities of CAD at Rowden, using Rhino, but getting fluent takes time; it’s a complex program.

However this is for Lost Art Press – and doing decent watercolour presentation drawings is getting to be archaic. This is a shame, as good watercolours send a clear message to the prospect that we have “a creative” in charge here. That’s a good thing.

Have a look at nearby printing facilities. Heavy watercolour paper is like thin card stock – it’s so thick. If you can find a printer to accept this thick paper, you can print from CAD using a fine grey outline that can be gone over with pencil and watercolour to a similar effect.

I wrote earlier about the tools and what you are attempting to achieve. Now I will be specific about how these drawings came about.

Fig. 33.2. An old American-made Windsor chair in the studio that I keep as a chair totem. I look at it and take measurements from it when questions come up.

First the chair. I had the sketches; I would never go straight to watercolour without a sketch to work from. I want to improve upon it here, while sticking with what I’ve downloaded [the idea from his mind] to keep the proportions and the idea nice and clear.

The side elevation was first; this was a matter of choosing a scale to draw with. I knew my paper was going to be in landscape orientation, as I want the side elevation with the front elevation alongside so I could transfer dimensions from the first drawing to the second. If need be, I work a plan drawing in there some-where. The layout of the page is critical. So, I chose a scale of 1:5 to nicely fill the page.

I use what is called a scale rule – a triangular cross-sectional rule with several scales; 1:10, 1:7.5 and 1:5 are the three I use most. The paper is A3 (11.7″ x 16.5″) 140 lb. watercolour hot-pressed paper – really heavy and super smooth. I fix it to my cedar double-elephant-sized drawing board on the left in the bottom quarter, fixing on all four corners with translucent drafting tape. Over the years a mound of this tape has built up in this section of the board – a witness to the hundreds of drawings I’ve done on it.

I put the paper on the left to be near the ebony edge of the cedar board on which the T-square slides. I got rid of parallel motions and clever architects’ drawing aids years ago in an effort to have only simple tools that would always be accurate if I held them correctly.

Double elephant – huh?! Well, yes – it’s not a mea-sure often heard now, but it was a size of paper when paper was not measured in A-whatever or inches. In the old days we had elephants as a way to measure the size of a sheet of paper. This is the biggest drawing board I could find; it’s about 42″ x 31″. You need a big drawing board and a block of wood to support it at an angle on your bench. It’s got to be big to do perspective drawings – but that’s for later.

The first line on the page is the floor. I look at how large the chair might be, how high and how wide, then work out where the side elevation should sit on the paper at 1:5. A line for the height of the seat goes in next; here, it’s 14-1/2″; if the seat is to compress when you sit on it, I put this line slightly below the top of the seat.

Fig. 33.3. I’m working on the plan view of the seat.

Now I put two lines down for the back leg and the seat. I look hard at the sketch and how that seat slopes and how the back leg leans way back. Here, I use one of my two big French curves mentioned earlier, the one that is a big spiral, with the radius opening out as you go around it. I used this tool repeatedly on this drawing, as I wanted a family of shapes that would have the same feel, the same DNA.

I do this a lot on chairs when I’ve designed a curved back leg shape – using the curves to develop the front leg and arms, while trying at the same time to use it differently to create different shapes with the same origin.

Having put down the side elevation to the best of my ability, I think about the front elevation and the plan. Chairs are very three-dimensional; they have to look good from all around. This means thinking in three dimensions, accepting that this side elevation has a consequence on the front and plan elevation. You find yourself chasing around the image. Top. Bottom. Side. Side. Top. Bottom. It’s a subtle form of madness.

Bang in the first lines for the front elevation – the baseline or floor. Do this as an extension of the line on which the side elevation sits. Next, put down a centre line at 90°; this places the front elevation there. The front legs are next. I have an old American-made Windsor chair in the studio that I keep as a chair totem. I look at it and take measurements from it when questions come up such as: How wide should a chair be? How high should a seat be? This old chair is strong, light, comfy and good-looking all around. All I have to do is that – but totally differently.

So, the front and back leg positions are added. The front legs are 550mm apart overall, and the back legs lean out, opening the chair back up. I put lines in from the side elevation across to the front to show the top of the crest rail and the bottom back of the seat. OOOooo…this makes a nice square – or it will when I tighten it up. This is what I am doing at this point – tightening up the proportions, hiding squares and rectangles, making shapes I like, then checking them against Euclid.

You can see the seat plan view (at left) going in above the side elevation. Once I positioned the top of a leg on it at a 550mm width, I saw a problem. If that leg is to stay there, the side elevation must change; the leg must come further back. Grrrrr….

Fig. 33.4. I cut a sharp edge on my eraser so I can use it really accurately – just that line. Then, with a really sharp 3H pencil, I set about making the change. It’s always a tussle, and you can see some of my old lines compressed in the paper.

When this happens, you need look at what you have already done and accept that it can be better. On the paper, it’s easy to erase lines. I cut a sharp edge on my eraser so I can use it really accurately – just that line. Then, with a really sharp 3H pencil, I set about making the change. It’s always a tussle, and you can see some of my old lines compressed in the paper.

My drawings are nothing like it, but if you look at great drawings such as Leonardo’s “Vitruvian Man,” you’ll see they often have an air of having been carved in the paper – with many corrections and amendments.

There’s Soft Wax Available Now. It’s Purrfection.

Posted on by fitz
Tiger, baby!

Bean the Shop Cat is here to report that Katherine Schwarz spent a few days this week making and packing a fresh batch of soft wax, and it is now available in her Etsy store.

Aw geez…are you using me for marketing again?

Instructions for Soft Wax 2.0

Soft Wax 2.0 is a safe finish for bare wood that is incredibly easy to apply and imparts a beautiful low luster to the wood.

The finish is made by cooking raw, organic linseed oil (from the flax plant) and combining it with cosmetics-grade beeswax and a small amount of a citrus-based solvent. The result is that this finish can be applied without special safety equipment, such as a respirator. The only safety caution is to dry the rags out flat you used to apply before throwing them away. (All linseed oil generates heat as it cures, and there is a small but real chance of the rags catching fire if they are bunched up while wet.)

Soft Wax 2.0 is an ideal finish for pieces that will be touched a lot, such as chairs, turned objects and spoons. The finish does not build a film, so the wood feels like wood – not plastic. Because of this, the wax does not provide a strong barrier against water or alcohol. If you use it on countertops or a kitchen table, you will need to touch it up every once in a while. Simply add a little more Soft Wax to a deteriorated finish and the repair is done – no stripping or additional chemicals needed.

Soft Wax 2.0 is not intended to be used over a film finish (such as lacquer, shellac or varnish). It is best used on bare wood. However, you can apply it over a porous finish, such as milk paint.

APPLICATION INSTRUCTIONS (VERY IMPORTANT): Applying Soft Wax 2.0 is so easy if you follow the simple instructions. On bare wood, apply a thin coat of soft wax using a rag, applicator pad, 3M gray pad or steel wool. Allow the finish to soak in about 15 minutes. Then, with a clean rag or towel, wipe the entire surface until it feels dry. Do not leave any excess finish on the surface. If you do leave some behind, the wood will get gummy and sticky.

The finish will be dry enough to use in a couple hours. After a couple weeks, the oil will be fully cured. After that, you can add a second coat (or not). A second coat will add more sheen and a little more protection to the wood.

Soft Wax 2.0 is made in small batches in Kentucky. Each glass jar contains 8 oz. of soft wax, enough for at least two chairs.

Eastern Kentucky Floods & Chester Cornett’s ‘Appalshop Chair’

Posted on by fitz
 The Whitesburg, Ky., Appalshop building (center) following the late July 2022 floods.
Credit: Appalshop staff via Smithsonian Magazine

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.

The School of Luthiery in downtown Hindman after the floodwaters receded.
Credit: Zoe Oldham

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.

Clean-up efforts at Appalshop.
Credit: Justin Skeens

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.

• Red Cross
• Team Eastern Kentucky Flood Relief Fund
• Hindman Settlement School
• Appalshop

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.

Cornett working on a low bench, in a photo from the Appalshop archives.

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 Appalshop chair from the back.

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.

Filmmakers Herb Smith and Elizabeth Barrett with Cornett’s Appalshop Chair.

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.

The underside of the Appalshop Chair.

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.

Photos from the Appalshop archives of Cornett’s chairs. At center is Cornett working on a double rocker.

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:

  1. Chester
  2. Hand Carved
  3. For the fiming
  4. The Appleshop
  5. Moviey Caled
  6. Check the Chiremaker
  7. Direxed buy
  8. Heirb Smith
  9. Elizabeth Barret
  10. President Applshop
  11. Pine Mountin Wood
  12. Mad I.N. N. OV. A, DEC 1977
  13. 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.

The left arm.

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.

The left rocker.

— Andrew Glenn

Building with Triangles

Posted on by fitz
Derek Jones (aka @lowfatroubo).

We’ve had Derek Jones in the shop this week teaching six students to build cricket tables. And, he just turned in manuscript for his forthcoming book on the subject. So while Derek and the students are sawing, planing and mortising in the background, I’m giving his manuscript a first read. Below is an amuse-bouche. We expect the book to be available in early 2023.

– Fitz

On paper it might not feel like a big leap, but building with anything other than 90° represents something of a challenge for a lot of woodworkers. It shouldn’t – after all, 90 is just a number like 30 or 60. Although it takes a little adjusting to at first, the moment you set your mind to accept that these are just numbers it becomes less taxing and, with a little practice, soon feels quite natural. If this is breaking new ground for you or you are in any way put off by the idea, here’s a little incentive you probably weren’t expecting. Working with other angles will significantly improve your 90° game as well.

When everything around us in the workshop is calibrated to 90° and flat, it’s no wonder we default to this when designing furniture to build. With the introduction of machines and the need to produce everything – from homes to all the stuff that goes inside them – more efficiently, we’ve lost the desire and ability to think in any ways other than 90°, level and flat. Before we were quite so obsessed with these qualities there was a time when we could build things with other angles and not feel like we’d failed if it came out slightly irregular. Surround yourself with straight walls with doors and windows to match, then set about designing anything to fill that space, and the chances are you’ll arrive at something similar. Behavioural psychologists and neurologists have a word for this: priming. The truth is we’re not as free-thinking and independent of thought as we think we are.

I use a passive form of priming in my teaching of young adults, a majority of whom have little or no experience of making things, let alone woodworking. In short bursts over a period of weeks I introduce them to a broad range of styles and working methods that include the Shakers, Campaign Furniture, George Nakashima, Windsor and stick chairs, Wendell Castle and James Krenov. Strictly speaking, none of these styles are part of the curriculum and in my opinion it’s worse off for that, but there’s a point to it. When I’m happy they’ve received sufficient priming I set them a task to design something that none of these makers have designed or made: a coat hanger. That’s the brief: Design and make a coat hanger from wood. At no point in their exposure to woodworking do I emphasise dovetails, mortise-and-tenon joinery, steam bending or laminating, but these are the methods they seek out and eventually use to fulfil the brief. On a personal level, I feel I’ve done my bit to introduce these genres and their related methods to a new generation of designers. On a broader scale, I’ve encouraged them to look at processes without any sense of hierarchy, and I’m always impressed at how comfortable they are dealing with curves and angles other than 90°. Familiarity, as they say, breeds contempt – and I’m well aware my opinion of these styles is skewed because of it, but I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to reconnect with them every year through the opinions of a fresh pair of eyes.

A student’s coat hanger,

There’s a lot we can do by way of priming to steer us away from a default setting of flat, square and straight. Try taking a walk in a natural environment for example, somewhere where the ground is uneven and the path isn’t straight. Then spend a similar amount of time in the mall where all the irregular shapes have been removed. As far as your senses are concerned it’s a completely different experience. When you’re out amongst nature your body has to think a little harder about navigating its way through the environment. The path winds and is sometimes loose under foot and even slippery, so your brain is working hard behind the scenes to make sure you don’t fall over. In simple terms, your brain is exercising the neurological pathways that deal with irregular forms. By the way, the same can be said of the time you spend in the mall, but if this is your usual habitat the workout is less productive. Repetition, while good for honing our skills, can limit growth in other areas.

When it comes to designing from scratch, I find the pursuit of perfection to be a little sterile at times. I’m averse to using formulae to determine an outcome as it seems like a paint-by-numbers kind of approach to me. I think formulae are a great tool to compare what you’ve already done or to trace where things might be going wrong with a design, but otherwise my worry is they’re numbing my senses.

I made my first cricket table with no idea about how the angle of the legs would affect the appearance. I was more concerned with performance related issues such as footprint and stability. After my second or third attempt I started to notice a few things: for a joined-style table, a greater splay angle generally resulted in a smaller area on which to rest the top, especially if you want to keep the footprint within the confines of the top itself. Already it seemed the form had limits to some aspects of the design. Even though I wasn’t trying to reinvent the table it felt like a breakthrough. Soon after that I made a scale model with detachable legs that allowed me to experiment with different angles and the position of the legs in relation to the edge of the top. I played around with it for a while until the irony of the situation smacked me in the face: I had, in fact, created my own paint-by-numbers cricket table formula. And just like when you have to explain a joke to someone it ceases to be funny, I wasn’t amused.

Scale model.
Scale model underside.

When I build a table now I use a completely different set of rules, one that’s less reliant on numbers and statistics and more in tune with my senses. Don’t worry – I’m not going all feng shui on you (although I believe there is much to be said for the peace and harmony that comes from a well-curated space). Instead I employ a small amount of geometry and what I now know causes a positive spike on my aesthetic radar.

Crucible Holdfasts Are Back in Stock

Posted on by fitz

Crucible Holdfasts – made from ductile iron in a century-old Illinois family foundry – are now back in stock. These beefy, 1″-diameter holdfasts are based on an old French design salvaged from a barn. They work consistently in benches from 2″ to 8″ thick for three reasons: a tight fit between the shaft and hole, a rough surface finish and the fact that its shaft isn’t tapered. And because of these qualities, it also will clamp objects as much as 8″ off the benchtop.

And in case you missed it, another tool that’s been long-awaited is also now available – the Crucible Card Scraper.

– Fitz

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