On Chris’s bench right now are two mahogany chairs.
Update: Comments are now closed (We’ll respond shortly to any that are posted and not yet answered). Join us again for Open Wire on Sept. 14.
Chris and I are both working on projects in the shop today – but we’ve reserved time in between chairmaking and dovetails (and both – Chris’s current chair features battens secured in sliding dovetails) to answer your burning Open Wire questions.
You know the drill: Post your woodworking queries below in the comments, and we will answer – and it is much appreciated if you keep the questions succinct. Comments close at around 5 p.m. Eastern.
On my bench are parts in progress for 11 Shaker silverware trays. Still.(It feels to me as if I’ve been working on these for months.)
fig. 2.2.22. The human form resides just beneath the surface.
Below is a short excerpt (a sidebar) from “By Hand & Eye,” the first artisan geometry book by George Walker and Jim Tolpin.
In “By Hand & Eye,” the authors show how much of the world is governed by simple proportions, noting how ratios such as 1:2; 3:5 and 4:5 were ubiquitous in the designs of pre-industrial artisans. And the tool that helps us explore this world, then as now, are dividers.
One key to good design is to master these basic “notes” – much like learning to sing “do, re, mi.” How to do this is the subject of the first three-quarters of the book. It offers exercises, examples and encouragement in opening your inner eye, propping it up with toothpicks and learning the simple geometry that will help you improve your design.
Critics point out that modern builders and architects can fall into a malady called the Greek Temple disease: slapping together classical elements from antiquity to somehow capture a sense of power and integrity. Of course, they do so without a clue about where these qualities came from, and how they came to be imbued in buildings from antiquity. It’s an easy conclusion to make if we focus on the surface without considering there might be something deeper. It’s true that many of our revered civic buildings often were modeled after temples from antiquity. Historical design literature emphasized the perfection found in the Greek and Roman classic orders.
fig. 2.2.23. Because classic orders are anthropomorphized forms, it was even thought that an interior with multiple layers of objects based on the orders was filled with human forms.
Yet the tradition reveals something deeper than a fascination with carved stone columns. To the Greeks, the classic order was the embodiment of the human form, but also of the building itself. Sweep them away and the roof collapses. The Romans extended the idea that the orders embodied the human form, yet applied new materials: concrete and brick. The result was that walls could support a building without requiring the orders for structural integrity. Yet they still used the classic orders to organize the façade, even though columns often had little or no structural role. They began to shadow the orders using shallow representations, sinking pilasters and half-columns into a wall to suggest the order. Later, designers completely eliminated columns or pilasters but continued to weave the proportional sequences to organize a façade. An exterior or interior wall could be divided into beginning, middle and ending using mouldings and paneling to echo an invisible classic order. Not just walls, but just as the order has internal elements that repeat the beginning, middle and ending, other elements in an interior – windows, fireplaces, furniture, candle stands, lamps – all could shadow the classic orders. Because the orders embody the human form, designers were in essence filling their homes with a host of human figures large and small.
p.s. We’re working right now on a new artisan geometry book from George Walker and Jim Tolpin, “Good Eye, Skilled Hands,” that we hope will be out later this year. In it, they explore the practical applications of lessons found in historic furniture forms.
The following is excerpted from “The Anarchist’s Design Book,” by Christopher Schwarz. The new, expanded edition of “The Anarchist’s Design Book” is an exploration of furniture forms that have persisted outside of the high styles that dominate every museum exhibit, scholarly text and woodworking magazine of the last 200 years.
There are historic furniture forms out there that have been around for almost 1,000 years that don’t get written about much. They are simple to make. They have clean lines. And they can be shockingly modern.
This book explores 18 of these forms – a bed, dining tables, chairs, chests, desks, shelving, stools – and offers a deep exploration into the two construction techniques used to make these pieces that have been forgotten, neglected or rejected.
“The Anarchist’s Design Book” is available for order in print, or you can download a free pdf (and you don’t need to register, sign up for dumb marketing or even tell us who you are). Just click through this link and you’ll find the download in the second sentence of the first paragraph – the one in italics.
Embrace or Reject the History Lesson
If you want to make historical furniture reproductions or pieces that are inspired by vintage work, you must devote yourself to studying old work – in person, up close and without prejudice.
But if you want to make things that are new or modern, you instead must devote yourself to studying old work – in person, up close and without prejudice. Otherwise, how will you know what it is you are rebelling against or rejecting?
In other words, no matter what sort of furniture maker you are, understanding the furniture record will make you a better one. Otherwise you might end up like some members of the Bauhaus, for example, who rejected historical work and set out to reinvent architecture, furniture and other crafts from first principles. As a result, they made a lot of unnecessary and time-consuming mistakes to create a new world. (See armchair F 51 designed for the director’s room of the Bauhaus.)
As I see it, every generation of makers has goals that fall upon these three lines:
Exalt old work to revive principles that have been forgotten by our degenerate society.
Create new work that rejects the principles of our degenerate society.
Make birdhouses.
All three are completely valid ways of approaching the craft. Only No. 3 allows you to skip the furniture record and create something useful with minimal effort.
Another Chinese chair. Hans Wegner’s Chinese Chair No. 1 (1944).
As I write this, I am surrounded by hundreds of books filled with thousands of pieces of furniture that I’ll never build. Many of those pieces are somewhat ugly or, at the least, too ornate for my taste. Yet I am thrilled to study every line and curve of every William & Mary, Georgian or Seymour piece that I can lay my hands on. Some of these pieces are brilliant because of their technicality. Their talented makers found clever ways of making extremely complex pieces in a shockingly simple way. (If you have studied furniture bandings, then you know what I mean.)
Other pieces are notable because of the sheer patience and focus of the maker (see French marquetry).
Still other pieces are forms that are perfectly proportioned in silhouette.
In my personal work, I seek to combine all three of those properties (though I rarely succeed). And the only way I can try to reach that goal is to study old work. So every day I open an old book, go to a museum in a strange city (thank you, crazy teaching schedule) or plumb the Internet.
Example: In a manor house in Cornwall there’s a beautiful Chinese chair. Why is it there, surrounded by 300-year-old English stuff? The house’s docents don’t know. So I buy a book on the history of the manor house and its contents. I explore Chinese chair construction on the Internet. I turn up some Hans Wegner chairs in my search and find a bright string from traditional Chinese furniture through Danish Modern.
Suddenly, the curve of the chair’s crest rail makes sense, across time and cultures. What I do with that information is up to me as a designer – but if I decide to incorporate a wishbone shape into a future design, I have a path to explore all the possibilities. And I can embrace or reject the history lesson.
Note: This video is being offered at the special introductory offer of $35 until Aug. 25. After that, the video will be $69.
We’ve long been fascinated with the Swedish tool chest form. Roy Underhill had one at The Woodwright’s Shop, and Chris got a close look at one in Sweden that belongs to Johan Lyrfalk, and came down through his family. It’s similar to a Dutch chest with its slanting front lid, but the Swedish one is in some ways simpler. And it’s larger – at least our version is – it’s not a chest for travel.
The video – which stars and is edited by television professional and do-it-yourself maven Whitney Miller – shows you step by step how to build this Swedish chest – and her joy in making it comes through on screen. (Which is to say she a lot of fun to watch, beyond the woodworking instruction!)
The Swedish chest is assembled with through-dovetails at the corners. The top and bottom are screwed to the carcase. The interior of the chest is fairly open and offers plenty of room for planes and larger tools on the floor. There are three drawers, assembled with rabbets and nails, that will hold your smaller tools and shop sundries. The drawer frame and dividers are assembled with screws, then nailed in place through the outside of the chest, as in our inspiration piece.
The interior walls of the chest are lined with tool racks, and there are saw racks on the lid. The rack layout is easy to adjust to suit your own storage needs.
We built it in cherry, because we couldn’t resist the call of the wide cherry boards at the lumberyard that day. The inspiration chest was painted, and probably made from pine.
The build is an excellent primer on through-dovetails and simple drawer construction – and when you’re done, you’ll have a handsome chest in which to store your tools.
Dimensions are: 32-1/2” wide, 18-1/2” high and 19-3/4” deep. The top is 8-1/2” wide, the drop lid is 13-1/2 wide. Most of the stock for the carcase is 7/8” thick.
The entire video is just more than an hour – tightly edited to be compact but filled with good information that’s fun to watch. It’s an excellent video for beginning woodworkers, with just the information you need.
You also get downloadable PDFs with plans and a cutlist, as well as information on using “marriage marks” for layout, and applying our favorite non-toxic soft-wax finish.
Traditional shop in miniature. This workbench scene, owned by tool collector John Sindelar, shows a complete, functioning shop. But what if you don’t own a bench?
The following is excerpted from “The Anarchist’s Workbench,” by Christopher Schwarz. The book is – on the one hand – a detailed plan for a simple workbench that can be built using construction lumber and basic woodworking tools. But it’s also the story of Schwarz’s 20-year journey researching, building and refining historical workbenches until there was nothing left to improve.
Along the way, Schwarz quits his corporate job, builds a publishing company founded on the principles of mutualism and moves into an 1896 German barroom in a red-light district, where he now builds furniture, publishes books and tries to live as an aesthetic anarchist. Oh – and the PDF of the book is free (see the first sentence at this link.)
There’s only one reason that the cheap-o workbench industry exists. And that’s because people think they need a workbench to build a workbench (or are truly delusional and think it will be fine for furniture making).
So many woodworkers I’ve met have spent $200 to $500 on a bench that isn’t worth the BTUs to burn. The things wobble like a broken finger. The vises hold like the handshake of a creepy vacuum salesman. They are too lightweight for even mild planing tasks.
You don’t need one of these benches to someday construct a “real” bench. In fact, I build benches all the time without the assistance of a workbench. It’s easy. Start with sawhorses. Glue up the benchtop on the sawhorses. Sawhorses + benchtop = ersatz bench. Now build the workbench’s base on top of that ersatz bench. Put the base and the benchtop together. You’re done.
If you want a temporary workbench until you build a “real” workbench, there are ways to get the job done with just a little money and a little frustration. This brief chapter seeks to give you some options. I know that some of you will insist on buying something as soon as you anoint yourself a woodworker. It’s an instinct we’re trained into as consumers. Here are a few things to put in your shopping cart instead of a cheap workbench:
Buy an industrial steel packing table with a hardwood top. You can get these from many, many suppliers (McMaster-Carr is one). These feature a heavy welded steel base and a wooden top that’s maple, if you’re lucky. These metal tables don’t rack like a cheap workbench and cost less (way less if you find a used one). You can screw thin pieces of wood to the top as planing stops so you can plane the faces of boards and legs and the like. And get a large handscrew clamp to stabilize boards when planing them on edge. These packing tables don’t come with any vises, of course, but you can fix that with your credit card.
Buy a couple bar clamps (you’ll need clamps no matter what) that are long enough to span the width of the top of the packing table. Screw a 4×4 below the benchtop right at the front edge of the top – this will allow you to clamp your work to the front edge of the benchtop so you can work on boards’ edges and ends.
That’s one solution. How about a simpler approach?
Use your kitchen cabinets, kitchen table or dining table as the workbench. You can clamp planing stops to the tabletop (you’ll need a couple F-style clamps for this). Don’t forget to buy a large handscrew clamp to help stabilize boards when planing them on edge on the tabletop.
For working on edges and ends of boards, buy a commercial Moxon vise, which you can clamp to any tabletop or countertop. This vise will let you work on the edges and ends of boards. Even after you build a “real” workbench, you’ll continue to use the Moxon and the handscrews.
Is that still too much money? Do you have a public park nearby?
Use a picnic table. Drive nails or screws into the top to serve as planing stops. With a picnic table you get both high and low working surfaces. You can drive some nails into the picnic table’s benches to act as a planing stop and use them like a Roman workbench.
Buy a couple big handscrew clamps (every woodworker needs these anyway). Clamp or screw these handscrews to the picnic table so they work like vises so you can work on boards’ edges or ends.
Here are other time-honored solutions I have observed in the wild.
Take four pieces of 3/4″ x 24″ x 96″ CDX cheap-o plywood and screw them together face to face to make a 3″-thick benchtop. Screw this benchtop to a used metal desk. The old metal desks that populated schools, warehouses and government offices are ugly, cheap and widely available. They are almost all 30″ high. Add a 3″-thick benchtop and you are in the right height range for most Americans. Some of these desks have MDF desktops. Some have sheet metal tops. Either way, you can screw your plywood benchtop to the desk. Bonus: The drawers give you tool storage. Add workholding as above.
Conscript an old dresser/bureau. This is a three- or four-drawer cabinet for storing clothes. One 19th-century book I read showed how to turn this into a workbench. Attach planing stops to the top of the bureau/dresser. For sawing, keep it simple – use 5-gallon buckets as sawbenches (thanks for that tip, Mike Siemsen). You also could clamp a Moxon vise to the top. The lower drawers are for storing tools. The upper drawer can catch sawdust (not my idea – it was mentioned in the book).
The Apocalypse Workbench When I teach or demonstrate woodworking on the road, the venue is occasionally luxurious and other times it’s more like “Lord of the Flies.” I’ve showed up at woodworking clubs where the workbench on offer was a folding table with metal legs and a particleboard top.
After years of encountering this problem, I learned to travel with an emergency kit of things that allowed me to work without bursting into sweat and tears in front of an audience. Here’s the kit:
Two large handscrews
Two 36″ bar clamps
Two F-style clamps (usually with 12″ bars)
Thin strips of plywood, usually 3″ x 24″ and in two thicknesses: 1/4″ and 1/2″
Small clamping pads of scrap plywood, to prevent denting my work when I pinch it
A few softwood shims
A couple simple bench hooks for sawing.
This kit has converted many desks and tables into somewhat-functioning workbenches. The handscrews and bar clamps act as face vises. The plywood scraps can be made into planing stops for planing with the grain or across it. And the F-style clamps can clamp my work – or other clamps – to the tabletop.
To be sure, I’m always happy to return home to my workbench. But until I find a way to fit it in an airplane’s overhead compartment, this kit has become a way that I can work almost anywhere.
