Chris mentioned in his Sunday post that since The Anarchist’s Tool Chest was published, he’s nailed in a few till dividers to corral small tools. After I showed my chest last week, people asked for a look at my tools and tills…so I’m scrambling to clean them and make them slightly more organized – and divest my chest of the stuff that really shouldn’t be in it – before showing what made the cut.
Chris cleans out the offcut bin regularly, and we’re selective about what goes into it in the first place. We have severely limited space here for storage, so we don’t save much (a contractor friend takes all the small stuff/bad stuff to burn). But I am a hoarder…so I sometimes squirrel away under my bench and on my office shelves pieces that Chris would certainly pitch. And it finally paid off. I had the perfect 3/8″-thick walnut to cut up for dividers – it was almost no work to get it ready for use. I just had to cut it to length, then shoot it for a perfect fit.
To set the wall locations, I plopped the tool for which each was intended in place, then added a bit of wiggle room with the nearest thing to hand that seemed of about the correct thickness – a half-used Post-It pad. After marking out center lines on tape (with thin material, it’s best to be dead-on), I nailed the walls in place (two pins on each end) with the 23-gauge pinner. Yes, the walls will come out easily – that’s on purpose. And all the tool racks in my chest are screwed in place. I want to be able to easily rearrange things if my needs change (or for whomever inherits my chest to be able to easily re-arrange things to fit their own needs. If they don’t burn it or sell it for $50 at an estate sale).
On the other end, I used a coaster to locate a cubby wall for confining pencils, a silly cat-head tape measure I won’t use (but love) and my most-used safety device – a hair clip.
Chris and I do have a lot of the same tools, but five years ago, our in-chest tools kits were a lot closer to identical (’cause I learned much of what I know from him). But since Chris’s uptick in chair building and my penchant for teaching all things dovetailed, our kits have diverged somewhat. I’ll clean out the rest of my chest and show its contents in full this Sunday.
In addition to her expert instruction on carving a classical leaf motif, in”Carving the Acanthus Leaf,” author Mary May also shares stories from her life, such as the one excerpted below.
The book is a deep exploration into the iconic acanthus leaf, which has been a cornerstone of Western ornamentation for thousands of years. May, a professional carver and instructor, covers carving tools and sharpening with the efficiency of someone who has taught for years. Then she plunges the reader directly into the work.
It begins with a simple leaf that requires just a few tools. The book then progresses through 13 variations of leaves up to the highly ornate Renaissance and Rococo forms. Each lesson builds on the earlier ones as the complexity slowly increases.
– Fitz
Being a student of woodcarving is not at all like being in a school program where there is a “final exam” at the end of the term to determine passage into the next level. My first woodcarving teacher, Konstantinos Papadakis, is a true master carver who specializes in the Byzantine style of woodcarving, one of the defining features of the beautifully ornate interiors of traditional Greek Orthodox churches. Stepping into the foyer of one of these churches, you are often greeted with an intricately carved “icon stand,” created to hold a vibrant painting of a venerated saint. Walking into the main sanctuary, you will be amazed by the remarkably detailed altar screens covered on every surface with carved leaves, vines and symbols of the Christian faith.
On one side of the altar will be a beautifully carved wooden structure called an Epitaphios, which holds a sacred tapestry depicting the laying of Christ in the tomb, an important symbolic part of the Eastern Orthodox Easter celebration. The annual springtime tradition is for children of the church to decorate the Epitaphios with flowers, threading the stems through the pierced carvings.The priest and several elders of the church carry it in a somber funeral procession around the outside of the church as the entire congregation follows in mourning. Their collective sadness at the death of their Savior is soon replaced when they re-enter the church for a grand celebration, rejoicing in the discovery of Christ’s resurrection.
Needless to say, when I began to learn woodcarving from Konstantinos, his teaching focused on mastering the nuances of the Byzantine style. I practiced carving what seemed like miles of continuous vines, curling and twisting along flat paneled surfaces, intermixed with grapes and symbolic images, especially the traditional peacocks and doves. This Byzantine style is easily recognizable, featuring highly stylized leaves that are splayed and pointed. Sharp “V” cuts shape the surface of leaves and vines. And the many angles and sharply defined lines create dynamic shadows. When viewed from a distance, these elements combine to decorate pieces that have a 3D, almost lifelike quality.
After three hard and rewarding years working and studying under the guidance of Konstantinos, I decided to venture across the globe to learn different styles and techniques from other master woodcarvers. It was to be much like the journeyman of old, beginning their working lives by setting out to work in various workshops to glean as much knowledge as possible from different masters. So without a formal “exam,” how could I prove that I was ready to take this next big step? I needed to design, build and carve a traditional Byzantine-style icon stand, and that is just what I set out to do.
It was finally time to bring together all of the skills I had learned in my three years with Konstantinos. I began by designing the four carved panels that made up the main body of the icon stand. The two side panels had a stylized peacock carved in the center surrounded by curling, twisting grape leaves. The front and rear panels were decorated with the same pointed, scrolling leaves around two medallions. I drilled countless holes into every tiny space between the details to prepare the way for cutting out all of the background wood. By inserting a thin scroll saw blade into the holes and patiently following each twisting curve, each little background shape finally dropped cleanly to the floor to create the pierced panels. It was a grueling week sawing out every portion of the background, but I was motivated by the knowledge that I was just preparing for the fun part.
Finally, after all of the drawing, drilling and sawing, I began the carving. I spent the next three weeks intently detailing all of the panels, carving the peacocks, finalizing the edge mouldings and capitals, and hand-shaping the tall spiral legs. It was a long and exhausting month, but when I proudly unveiled the finished icon stand, I was filled with a deep satisfaction, knowing that I had passed the test. I was now ready to continue my journey, working with and learning from other master carvers. I do look back fondly on those long years of practice and study, and though I have completed many challenging carving projects in the years since, the icon stand holds a place of honor in my portfolio. I have carried it with me for 22 years. These days, it may inspire me with its company in my workshop, dominate the corner of our living room or occupy a place in a furniture show or exhibit, but it will always have a special place in my heart as a representation of two major passages in my life. The first was the “final exam” that marked a major transition in my carving life, and the second was when my husband and I knelt before it humbly as we were married, the priest using it as a lectern in our beautiful outdoor wedding.
With 165 Stick Chair Merit Badges remaining, we’re extending the deadline to earn one until they are gone (we’d much rather you have a little more time than to dispose of the ones that are left). When they run out, we’ll announce it here.
The merit badges are one to a customer, and the rules remain the same:
Build a stick chair with your own hands. (Not a frame chair, ladderback chair, Windsor/Forest chair, IKEA chair, folding chair etc.) A genuine, vernacular stick chair. (A stool without a back is not a chair. A backstool, which is essentially a side chair, is indeed a chair.)
Take a picture and print it out on any paper.
Send a self-addressed, stamped envelope (SASE) to us with the picture of your stick chair. (International readers are welcome to participate; you’ll need a U.S. Global stamp on the SASE.) Here’s how to address the envelope:
Stick Chair Merit Badge Lost Art Press 837 Willard St. Covington, KY 41011
I will in return insert a badge into said SASE, seal it up (with tape if it’s not self-adhesive…I’m not licking your envelopes!) and drop it in the post box on the corner near our shop, or – if it’s raining or I’m feeling lazy – at the drive-up box at Cincinnati’s main Post Office, which is on my way home.
You may have read a few weeks ago about what happens when Chris gets bored with watching me teach. And what happens a day later when people share “advice” after said experiments. As far as I know, the bugs have not yet eaten what is now Roy Underhill’s Dutch tool chest. (And frankly, I’m a little offended that some of y’all think my dovetail joints aren’t tight enough to keep the bugs out….)
I didn’t bring the chest home, but we did bring home the test joint Chris made with Gummy Bear Glue. On Tuesday, I tried reversing the gummy glue using the same strategies one uses to reverse hide glue; both are gelatin, after all.
But first, I hit the snot out of it…again. We first tried to reverse the joint using nothing but force (a big hammer) the day after Chris glued the two pieces together. It didn’t work then, either. But you see can above that this time, the lump hammer produced the start of a split. Under extreme force, the wood is failing before the gummy glue. Just as it does with hide glue, PVA and other wood-appropriate mastics after they’ve fully cured.
I cut the test joint into three pieces before testing the gummy glue reversal with hot water, alcohol and a chisel.
I boiled water, then as quickly as possible sucked it into a syringe with an 18-gauge needle and inserted hot water into the joint on all sides. After letting it sit for a few minutes, I was able to pop the joint apart with a sharp hammer blow. Just as I’ve done numerous times to hide glue joints treated with hot water.
As you can see, it’s an almost dead-clear reversal – no wood failure in the joint (that teensy bit of failure visible at the top of the above picture is where the split was starting from the untreated hammer blow).
Next I tried inserting 190-proof grain alcohol into the joint. This crystalizes hide glue – and it did the same here. I waited two minutes or so before smacking the joint, and you can see below that the split isn’t quite as clear as with the water, with a few thin areas of wood failure visible (again, the obvious failure at the edge is the result of before-treatment beating).
Then, I used a wide chisel to try to cleanly split the joint without water or alcohol. Same as with any wood glue, there is obvious wood failure – if not as much as I’ve seen with traditional hide glue.
Is two weeks enough set-up time – and in winter, where it’s too cold for the bugs – for a proper test of the gummy glue? Maybe not. But clearly, it has some holding power. Regardless, I am 100-percent certain that Roy’s Dutch tool chest will not fall apart; have you seen the number of nails I use on those things?*
– Fitz
* Maybe you haven’t…but soon, very soon, you’ll be able to refer to a book on the subject. Just trying to head that question off at the pass…
I don’t always build a chest alongside with my Anarchist’s Tool Chest classes – after all, I already have two full-size tool chests (one at the Lost Art Press shop and one at home), and there are only so many I can sell. But during my early December class, I decided to make one…partially at least. I always end up having to cede my bench and/or tools to students. Plus once the skirts are on, I spend a lot more time walking around than cutting my own joints. I’m terrified someone is going to send a flesh-cut flush-cut saw into a hand as they trim off protruding pins on the angled bits of the skirts. (The joints are cut before the bevel, so once the skirts are glued on, the “ears” get cut off.) I’ve cut into my own thenar eminence (that fleshy mound at the base of the thumb) more than once during this very operation. (I don’t mind my own blood, but I certainly don’t want to see student blood!)
So, I have sitting on my bench right now a glued-up carcase with the rest of the bits stacked on top. Once I finish the chest exterior (hopefully this week), we’re going to film kitting out the interior with what we consider the standard tills and racks:
• three dovetailed tills and their runners • hole-y rack for thin pointy tools (chisels, screwdrivers and the like) – both with and without a rack behind it for hanging backsaws • saw till on the floor for panel saws and longer handsaws • moulding plane cubby
We might also show installing the hardware…if time allows and if I can stomach being on screen for that much longer.
I expect we’ll have the video available sometime in February.
Also, I’ll have a full-sized ATC for sale soon-ish – shoot me an email if you’re interested. (I’m thinking of painting it blue.)