Author: fitz

Chris and I have been as busy as Santa’s elves over the past few months, building all manner of chairs. A month or two ago, faced with the dilemma of wanting to build more chairs but already having a through-the-roof “chair-per-capita” count in our homes, we thought we’d put together a little show and sale at one of the Lost Art Press Open Houses – and this weekend is the one!

To further entice your presence at the show, here are some of the chairs that I’ll have in the show. With the holiday season approaching, we thought we’d combine a gallery-style show with a furniture sale – many of the pieces below will be for sale, as noted, and all will be available for examination and sitting!

Tage Frid inspired stool: This three-legged stool, in the style of Frid’s classic design, was my first chair, made while I was a student at The Krenov School (then the College of the Redwoods) from some lovely curly tanoak. It is not for sale – some lucky Arkansas-born anarchist has got it at his house and is kindly bringing it to the shop for this show.

Staked Dining Set: This four-piece set of white-oak staked furniture (two chairs, a bench and a table) were my first foray into staked furniture, with milk-painted accents and solid joinery. The set makes a nice breakfast nook setup, which had been its use in my house until I started down the rabbit hole of building far too many chairs. This set will be for sale, as a complete unit, for a handsomely low price.

Settin’ Chire: This greenwood ladderback chair was made in the style of Chester Cornett, with carved pegs, octagonal posts and rungs and a three-slat design, all made from green red oak from Eastern Kentucky earlier this year. It’s seat is woven with Danish cord in a plain weave. It will be for sale.

Jennie Chair: This Jennie (or “JA”) chair was built using white oak posts, rungs and slats that were salvaged from Jennie Alexander’s garage last month during our trip a few weeks ago. It has a simple Danish cord seat. I’m just finishing it up today and tomorrow, so this will be the newest piece from me in the show. This piece is not for sale.

Twin Bookmatched Stools: This pair of three-legged, braced-back stools made from a single slab of olive ash were just finished, with a unique bookmatched pair of slab seats. These are low stools, akin in seating style to the classic “cockfighting” stools popular in 19th-century Britain. They’ll be for sale as a set, it would a shame to split them up.

Five-legged Staked Chair: This is a new design that I came up with for my upcoming class at the storefront and at Port Townsend School of Woodworking later in 2019. It has a braced-back crest with flying supports akin to the bookmatched stools, and a massively sturdy five legged stance, made from some mighty red oak. It, too, will be for sale.

Høj Footstool: This simple footstool, made from red oak and Danish cord, is a blending of Danish modern and Appalachian post-and-rung styles, thus the name, “Høj,” a rural word in Denmark for a hill. This stool will be for sale at the show.

I’ll also be showing various projects and tools I’ve been working on, have a few other small items for sale and demonstrating some of the techniques used in the construction of these chairs. We’ll also have a variety of fun activities, including some “Chiremaker Crown” craft activities. And, a “Chairmaker’s Sighting Square” might just be getting raffled off…

So, I hope you can find the time to come join us!

— Brendan Gaffney

Yoav Liberman first came to my attention at Woodworking in America in the fall of 2016. We met in the trade show hall and quickly fell into a discussion about reality versus fantasy when it comes to making furniture for a living. Impressed by his openness and intelligence, I made a point of attending his talk on designing furniture using reclaimed wood, a topic of longstanding interest to me.

Liberman came to furniture making via architecture. As a result, he has the perspective of an engineer, as well as that of a craftsman and artist. He is also an accomplished draftsman, many of whose renderings are so beautiful I would gladly frame them and put them on my office wall. But what struck me most in his presentation was the deep respect he gives to the materials used in his work. He seeks out their history and works these stories into his pieces’ design. It’s a process he compares to the challenges faced by chefs who use seasonal produce: “As a chef creates a meal based on the ingredients of the season, I meld the material I acquire to create a completely new and interesting piece that pays homage to the individual history of its ingredients.”

“Homage” is no exaggeration. Liberman’s work gives new life not just to the materials others have rejected, but to the people in whose lives they’ve played a part. Such respect is rare in a culture that encourages us to see things as separable from those who make and use them; this is an exemplary kind of reverence for the everyday. But don’t confuse reverent with stuffy; Liberman’s designs, like his writing, are leavened by a smart sense of humor and refreshing readiness to question convention.

So when Liberman told me he was working on a book, I knew I’d want to read it.

In Working Reclaimed Wood, Liberman provides a useful taxonomy of reclaimed wood and explains the processes involved in turning each variety into material suitable for furniture making. He offers diverse examples of pieces made from reclaimed wood, some mind-bogglingly ingenious in their utilization of discarded wood and metal parts. There are suggested sources for materials, detailed instructions on cleaning salvaged hardware or adding patina, and a very good section on stretching boards (illustrated by some of the most eye-popping pieces in the volume). The book also includes fascinating snippets of history, such as an account of how the peculiar habit of live oak trees made this the timber of choice for constructing ships’ hulls.

Liberman’s character animates the text, whether he’s explaining how he made a particular design decision or sharing a glimpse into life with his young son. He’s thoughtful, funny, principled and kind, all of which contribute to make the book a good, as well as informative, read.* The best examples of this are the sections about his process in designing the signature pieces scattered throughout. The “Flash Teapot,” which started out as a bowl the author turned out of a rotten limb, paired with a silver lid from a sugar bowl (Liberman charmingly calls it “orphaned”), takes a dramatic turn at the first gallery where it’s shown, only to end up being purchased by a pair of collectors in L.A.

For my money, though, the best section is the one about “Attn: John Everdell,” the highboy Liberman had long wanted to build. The materials that presented themselves resulted in a piece that’s less highboy than cabinet on a stand. Liberman’s account of how he created this piece after pulling a pile of coarse crating from a dumpster reads like a romantic adventure. This tale alone is worth the price of the book. I’m not going to spoil it for you. Read it for yourself.–Nancy R. Hiller, author of Making Things Work

*A few errors slipped past the editor, and it’s exasperating that the conclusion of the section on patina was inadvertently cut from page 115.