In today’s glimpse at the Covington Mechanical Library (CML), let’s have a look at some books compiled from magazine articles and by magazine authors, an old “must have,” woodworking humor and the first of our fiction books.
I remember seeing a few volumes from the Fine Woodworking Techniques series (above on the left) on the hard-to-reach shelves in my grandfather’s tiny workshop, tucked behind his Shopsmith Mark V. The series began in 1978, with articles pulled from the first seven issues of Fine Woodworking magazine, and ran through 1987’s Volume 9, featuring articles from issues 50-55. Tucked in among them is Fine Woodworking magazine’s 1970 “Design Book Two,” which, according to the cover features “1,150 photographs of the best work in wood by 1,000 craftsmen.”
I ought to swap the positions of Michael Pekovich’s “The Why & How of Woodworking” (Taunton, 2018) and Glen Huey’s “Building Fine Furniture” (Popular Woodworking, 2003) – and move Garrett Hack’s “The Handplane Book” (Taunton, 1997), Dennis Zongker’s “Wooden Boxes (Taunton 2013) and Thomas J. MacDonald’s “Rough Cut Woodworking with Tommy Mac” (Taunton, 2011) to the far left. Oh – and move John L. Feirer’s “Furniture & Cabinet Making” (Scribner’s, 1983 – a must-have at one time, but now perhaps a bit musty in its technique instruction…but not so old-school as to qualify as a classic) to the far right. That would pull together all the Fine Woodworking Magazine-related titles, and collect the Popular WoodworkingMagazine-related books in a row (well – all the ones on this shelf, anyway).
The following, until otherwise noted, are from Popular Woodworking – and we have them because – as you may know – Chris and I both spent some time on that magazine’s staff. As noted above, we start with Huey’s “Building Fine Furniture,” followed by his “Building 18th-century American Furniture” (2009) and “Fine Furniture for a Lifetime” (2002). (If you want to know what Huey is up to these days, click here.)
Then we have Jeff Miller’s “The Foundations of Better Woodworking” (2012), Jim Tolpin’s “The New Traditional Woodworker” (2011), and a reprint of two vintage books in one volume: “The Art of Mitring” and “Carpentry and Joinery for Amateurs” – and gosh does that one simultaneously raise my hackles and sadden me. (The short story: It was supposed to be a Smythe-sewn binding with a cloth cover, such as Lost Art Press produces. When it came in, the cover was “cloth-like” and the binding was glued. Someone above me at PW’s parent company had decided, without even the courtesy of telling me, to “save money.” I’m still mad as heck about it. But I digress…)
I’ve already mentioned Feirer, so we’ll skip to Tolpin’s “Table Saw Magic” (1999) – a long-time woodworking hot seller (and a title that, in light of his current work in hand tools and artisan geometry, never fails to surprise me anew when I see it.) And I see now a Sterling book that needs to move to the far right: “Great Folk Instruments to Make & Play” by Dennis Waring (1999) – I’m not sure why we have that one; perhaps Chris went through an instrument-making phase that I don’t know about?
It’s back to Popular Woodworking books with “Build Your Own Contemporary Furniture” (2002) – a title lead-in that I’ve always found a bit silly…as if you might otherwise inadvertently build your neighbor’s contemporary furniture. Alongside those now-not-contemporary designs, we have “Building Beautiful Boxes With Your Band Saw” (2015) by Lois Keener Ventura – and with one book between is her “Sculpted Band Saw Boxes” (2008) – I’ll have to put those together on Monday.
Separating Ventura’s Books is another not-PW book, “Nomadic Furniture 2” by James Hennessey and Victor Papenak (moving that to the right, too!). It’s a 1974 delight from Pantheon Books, featuring hand-drawn plans for simple furniture made from inexpensive and recycled materials – stuff that folds flat or breaks down for easy moving. Then we have “Mid-century Modern Furniture” by Michael Crow (PW 2015) followed by “Nick Engler’s Woodworking Wisdom” (Rodale, 1999). Though it’s not published by PW, I feel it’s in the right place; Engler wrote for PW for years.
Tom Fidgen’s “Made by Hand” (PW 2009) is next; I liked his clever traveling toolbox therein. And for some reason, we then have a second copy of Tolpin’s “New Traditional Woodworker” (it might make its way to the blems/used shelf – it’s a good book, but we don’t need two copies). Then I’ll ignore the interloper in favor of “Building Traditional Country Furniture” (2001), which was compiled from PW.
And that completes – until we get to the fiction title – the PW books in this bay. That “interloper” above is Rick Mastelli and John Kelsey’s “Tradition in Contemporary Furniture” from the Furniture Society (2001). We also have our friend Vic Tesolin’s “The Minimalist Woodworker” (Spring House Press, 2015) and “Projects from The Minimalist Woodworker” (Blue Hills Press, 2021). Those are followed by a Sterling edition (2000) of David Finck’s “Making & Mastering Wood Planes” (we offer the revised edition).
At the end of the non-fiction section is Nick Offerman’s delightful “Good Clean Fun” (Dutton, 2016) – a book that I think likely got more formerly non-woodworkers interested in the craft than any other, because of Offerman’s massive fan base. And it’s a hilarious read (seriously – I’ve never laughed so much while reading a woodworking book – highly recommended).
And finally, that fiction title: Sal Maccarone’s “How to Make $40,000 a Year with Your Woodworking” (PW 1998). In today’s dollar’s, that title would be “How to Make $73,000 a Year with Your Woodworking.” More hilarity!
– Fitz
p.s. This is the seventh post in the Covington Mechanical Library tour. To see the earlier ones, click on “Categories” on the right rail, and drop down to “Mechanical Library.” Or click here.
Spoon rack. Jason Thigpen made this rack to store a variety of handmade spoons. The pegs for the spoons are made of white oak shaped by hand with a block plane, then installed using the tapered mortise-and-tenon tooling from Lee Valley. The 3/8” tapered tenon tool is used in this case and the pegs are angled upwards by about 5° to help the spoons stay on. (Jason says that if he built another spoon rack in the future, he would probably increase that to about 10°.) The base of the spoon rack is pecan harvested from a dead tree Jason felled just outside of his family’s yard. The spoon rack is mounted by means of keyhole slots in the back. Jason Thigpen, Texas Heritage Woodworks
The following is excerpted from Nancy R. Hiller‘s “Kitchen Think” – a book I’ve been consulting almost daily as I work on the plans/design/dreams for the pantry and kitchen in my 1905 house. But every time I look at it, I tear up a bit. I am still reeling from the fact that I can’t just send a few pictures Nancy’s way and ask for her opinion and advice. But I’m far sorrier that I can’t just sit down with her for a drink and a good gab about our gardens, pets and other seemingly inconsequential things that mean so much. I miss her singular and joyous laugh – and everything else Nancy.
– Fitz
No book titled “Kitchen Think” would be complete without a variety of miscellaneous objects the inspiration for that title connotes. Here’s a smattering of suggestions for details that are practical and fun.
Adaptation of an adaptation. Megan Fitzpatrick built this tiger maple plate rack based on adaptations to an original design by Johnny Grey that had been developed by Nancy Hiller and Kelly Mehler in the course of planning the kitchen Kelly shares with his wife, Teri. It’s made to fit Megan’s dinnerware; the depth and central shelf heights accommodate her various plates, and the racks are removable, which makes the unit flexible for other uses. The top shelves in the two side sections are adjustable. Al Parrish, courtesy ofActive Interest Media
Homage to my first employer. In our former kitchen, I built a plate rack inspired by the kitchen dressers I made for Roy Griffiths at Crosskeys Joinery in the early 1980s. This one is made in cypress. The built-in cabinets are ash with salvaged hardware. The counter is green-black soapstone. Spectrum Creative Group
Possibly the world’s most influential plate rack. Johnny Grey designed this plate rack for the kitchen in his family’s home. The sides are cherry, but the rails and dowels are teak. If you’re planning to use a plate rack for its historical purpose, to drain dishes, it’s important to use a water-resistant species for all parts that will regularly get wet. Benedict Grey Photography
Utensil rack & knife holder. Jenni Wilkinson mounted a tool bar over her stove to keep cooking utensils handy.
Second sink. If you have enough room, a second sink can be very handy. These clients added a small second sink between the main part of their kitchen and the dining room. Spectrum Creative Group
Wine column. My clients and I planned this wall of cabinetry around an awkward structural element. Along with the fridge and microwave, it houses a trash pullout. With just a few inches of width to spare, the clients suggested incorporating a set of shelves for wine. Spectrum Creative Group
Pet feeding station. Instead of buying a generic feeding station for her dog, Beau, Lynette Breton made one that goes with her kitchen. She laminated two layers of 1/2″ Baltic birch plywood for the substrate, then glued the same Wilsonart Boomerang laminate she used for her counters to the top and underside for stability, using a vacuum press with Titebond glue. The chrome tubing was left over from a custom towel rack commission; she made the station with three legs, adding white cane-tip protectors found at her local hardware store. The shape of the top was inspired by the boomerang pattern on the laminate. Margaret Stevens-Becksvoort
No dull edges. The MagBlok by Benchcrafted holds knives safely with a powerful magnet concealed behind wood. Unlike commercial magnetic holders, which have metal on their faces, the MagBlok won’t dull a sharp edge when hastily removed. Father John Abraham
Pull-out cutting board. True to her mid-century inspiration, Lynette Breton incorporated a pull-out cutting board in her cabinets. The board is made of maple with a breadboard front; curved edges overlap the cabinet face. Margaret Stevens-Becksvoort
Road food. Narayan Nayar, an avid cook and woodworker, wanted to equip his travel trailer’s galley with some nice cooking knives for an extended road trip. He wanted the knives to be readily accessible, in addition to well-protected. He designed this knife tray, which sits on runners at the top of a drawer, along the lines of the drawers in which he stores his lathe tools. Knives are separated by two holders — one that secures the handle and one the blade. The tray is bottomless to prevent the accumulation of detritus; this feature also keeps the contents below the tray visible. The tray is made from a leftover beech countertop sink cutout and holds the four knives he wanted to have for 100 days on the road: paring, boning/fillet, 7″ santoku and bread. Narayan Nayar
For two decades, Nancy made a living by turning limitations into creative, lively and livable kitchens for her clients. “Kitchen Think” is an invitation to learn from both her completed kitchen designs (plus kitchens from a few others) and from the way she worked in her Bloomington, Ind., workshop.
Unlike most kitchen design books, “Kitchen Think” is a woodworker’s guide to designing and furnishing the kitchen, from a down-to-the-studs renovation to refacing existing cabinets. And Nancy shows you how it can be done without spending a fortune or adding significantly to your local landfill.
Aspen Golann on the Lost Art Press stoop in July, after hours during a Chairmaker’s Toolbox class.
You may have heard that Aspen Golann, founder of the Chairmaker’s Toolbox – which has selflessly been helping others to learn chairmaking – could now use a little help herself. She has suffered a bad leg break that will keep her out of the shop for about five months. If you can spare a little to help her out during her recovery, please donate at the GoFundMe set up by Peter Galbert.
While talking chairs over a beer on an evening during the Chair Chat Class week, the conversation eventually turned upon the Swedish stick chair tradition in general, and Mats Palmquist’s 2018 book “Träsmak” in particular. As it happened, that book and a number of others had been laid out by Chrisropher Schwarz on the coffee table in the Covington Mechanical Library for us to peruse and, if so inclined, be inspired by for our upcoming chair builds.
It is lavishly illustrated with many hundreds of excellent photos of Swedish stick chairs, their design and their production over the last 170 or so years, so as a visual source of design inspiration, it works a treat. The text complements this with an in-depth look at the history of stick chair design and manufacture in Sweden during the same period. In Swedish. Which means that, unless you can at least decipher that language, or have the time on your hands to take the text through machine translation (and the patience to deal with the pitfalls thereof), like Chris and most other non-Scandinavians, you will only be able to view, not read. So, after I had gone on for a bit about what “Träsmak” actually has to say, Chris gave me a look and asked “how about you write a presentation of the book for the blog?”. As you can see, I agreed.
By the way, “presentation” is a key word; this blog post is not meant to be review, although I do express the occasional opinion or add snippets of information not out of the book. But the basic idea is to give the non-Swedish speaking readership of the blog a taste (pun intended – see below) of what it is all about. Not, however, by sticking to the structure of the book, which, from written sources, photos, memories and anecdotes, weaves a semi-chronologically presented, rather detailed tapestry of intermingled producers, designers and chairs. This makes for great reading and browsing but is not easy to sum up. I will instead attempt to identify some main threads, to stay with the tapestry analogy, and talk about them briefly, one at a time. But for a proper look, get the book!
‘Träsmak – En bok om svenska pinnstolar‘
First, though, the title: What it does it mean?
Trä is wood, and smak is taste or flavour, so a literal translation could be “The Flavour of Wood.” As an idiomatic expression, however, träsmak means a benumbed posterior from sitting on a hard or uncomfortable seat. So, Numb Butt, which, according to the author, has often been the result of sitting on these chairs: “It has been said that the stick chair is the only democratic piece of furniture. It is equally uncomfortable to all.”
As for the subtitle, en = one, a or an, bok = book, om = about, svenska = Swedish while pinnstolar is the plural of pinnstol = stick chair, from pinne = stick, and stol = chair. So, A Book About Swedish Stick Chairs.
Origin Story No. 2: The Book
Mats Palmquist has worked as a journalist, writer and graphic designer for more than 40 years. As far as I know, he’s not a woodworker, but he talks about a long-standing interest in furniture design, and about how, many years ago, he used to see plenty of stick chairs going for not much money at flea markets. His interest roused, he tried to find out more, but soon realised that very little had been written about them. Long years of gathering what information he could find eventually led to the thought that maybe he’d better write about the subject himself. Thus, while freely acknowledging it to be far from complete, he calls the result “a book somewhat like what [he] missed back then.”
Origin Story No. 3: Swedish Stick Chairs
Stick chairs are ubiquitous in the Swedish furniture landscape and have been since the second half of the 19th century – witness Palmquist talking about always finding them at flea markets. Witness also my own experience, growing up in Sweden in the 1960s and 70s. We had a set in the kitchen, so did my grandparents. Stick chairs were in the homes of family and friends, in restaurants, in public spaces. You never really noticed them; they were just there. So normal that they tended to disappear into the background, even as you sat on them.
And for a long time, there was a large industry to make them, some of which survives to this day.
Apparently it can all be traced back to just three people, in an origin story that seems reasonably reliable. As Palmquist tells it, it began sometime in the 1850s, with a Mrs. Henrietta Killander, at the time lady of the manor at the Hook Estate in Svenarum Parish, some 20 miles south of Jönköping in the province of Småland in southern Sweden. She asked Jonas Fagerlund, the carpenter at close-by Lindefors Bruk iron works (that the Killander family also owned), to make a chair from a design of hers. Fagerlund in turn asked a certain Daniel Ljungqvist, for help. The latter was known for his skill in making spinning wheels, an implement that usually involves a staked construction and a number of turned sticks. He would thus have had a foot-powered lathe and been familiar with turning. After the first chair had met with approval, a further number were commissioned from the same two men.
The Killander family still owns this chair, said to be one of the original ones from the 1850s. If so, it confirms that Mrs. Killander’s design was closely based on English Windsor-style back chairs.
These chairs looked very much like English Windsor back chairs of the same era, but where Mrs. Killander found her inspiration for the design is not known. There is no evidence that she had been abroad, but small numbers of Windsor-inspired chairs had been made by Swedish cabinetmakers since the late 1700s. She may thus have seen some of those, or imported Windsors, or even just pictures of them; the importance of her design and commission lies not in any claim to originality, but in the impulse it gave to in particular Daniel Ljungqvist, who continued to make chairs like these. The idea soon passed from him to local smallholders, for whom it was a good way to make some cash on the side. The raw material – mostly birch – could be found in abundance pretty much on the doorstep, while a user-made, foot-powered lathe was well within reach, both practically and financially. The resulting chairs were then sold in town – Jönköping – or at fairs, and met with a steady enough demand to warrant continued supply.
From Farms to Factories
This nascent cottage industry soon outgrew the cottages where it got its start, and in the 1860s began to turn into an initially small and somewhat primitive but clearly factory-based proto-industry. First out was a certain Johan Wilhelm Thunander, who in 1863, at 19 years old and together with two others, began making chairs by hand at Harkeryd Farm, again in Svenarum Parish. They soon also employed a man who had worked with Daniel Ljungqvist. Thunander eventually came up with the idea to use water power to run the lathe, first at a local flour mill. In 1870 the activities were moved to Horshaga Farm, strategically located next to running water, and where, under the name of Hagafors Stolfabrik (fors = rapids; stolfabrik = chair factory), the machines running on water power soon included band saw, drill press and jointer.
The Hagafors Chair Factory in 1906. Out in front is Johan Wilhelm Thunander, the owner, with one of his sons.
Two other stick chair factory pioneers in the area were Carl Johan Wigell, who started making chairs in nearby Malmbäck in 1868, and Per Johan Andersson, who began his business in Svenarum in 1870, but in 1882 moved the 25 or so miles north-east to Nässjö, a town newly founded around the coming together of five different railroad lines, including the Southern Main Line connecting Malmö to Stockholm. The business was later named after the town as Nässjö Stolfabrik, and eventually became the most productive stick chair factory in Sweden.
On both sides of the turn of the 20th century, many other factories sprang up, first all over Småland, in places like Jönköping, Värnamo, Bodafors, Sävsjö, Vetlanda, Diö, Vaggeryd, Skillingaryd, Smålandsstenar, Moheda, Tranås and more besides, then elsewhere in Sweden, including Edsbyn, Tallåsen, Sparreholm, Holmsund, Stockholm, Tibro and Örebro. Steam (and later electric) power soon supplemented or replaced water for running machines.
There’s not room here to go into such detail as the book does on these many companies and factories and their varying fortunes, but of the original three, Hagafors Stolfabrik gradually ceased production in the mid-1960s, while Nässjö Stolfabrik went bankrupt and closed its doors in 1991/92. Wigells, though, are in business in Malmbäck to this day, and still make stick chairs (and many other types of furniture besides).
From Windsor to Swedish Mid-Century Modern – or SMC Rustic
Up until the late 1920s or so, most (possibly even all) of the stick chairs made in Sweden by these many factories look very much the same, irrespective of who made them. There will of course have been differences of quality, and a plethora of models – back chairs, arm chairs, rocking chairs and so on – with more or less subtle variations in design and finish, but judging from how Palmquist presents the matter, both in pictures and in writing, they were all riffing on a Windsor theme and on each other: decoratively turned legs and sticks; typically curly seat and comb shapes; marked saddling. In short, the Windsor works.
With the arrival in Sweden of Functionalism in the years around the 1930 Stockholm Exhibition this begins to change, and in particular during what might be termed a Golden Age for these chairs in the 1940s, 50s and 60s, a rich and distinctively Swedish stick chair language evolves through the work of a number of well-known and successful designers: Uno Åhrén, Carl Malmsten, Sven-Erik Fryklund, Yngve Ekström, Sonna Rosén, Gunnar Eklöf, and (from Finland) Ilmari Tapiovaara, to mention just a few of the bigger names.
Instead of the old, decorative turnings, legs and sticks become smoothly rounded, seats and combs lose their curlicues, saddling is usually discrete or non-existent, with some seats even made from form-pressed veneer. Much of it is made to fit into what is now often called a Mid-Century Modern aesthetic (including some more daring experiments in form, now perhaps a tad dated), with others in more of a (faux) Rustic style.
This design trend in fact continues to this day. Certain classics from the 40s and 50s are still produced (see also below), and although contemporary designers – amongst those whose work is mentioned in the book are Nirvan Richter, Lina Nordqvist, Thomas Sandell, Markus Johansson, Mårten Cyrén and Jonas Lindvall – may try to stretch the envelope in certain ways, they are yet well grounded in the forms and designs of the mid-20th century.
Oh, and – no surprise – Ikea has of course produced quite a number of stick chairs over the years; almost 50 different designs in fact. In earlier years Ikea often just sold whatever stick chair models were on offer from their suppliers, but with time the company’s chairs came to be designed directly for them by designers such as Gillis Lundgren, Bengt Ruda, Erik Wörts, Karin Mobring, Tomas Jelinek and Nike Karlsson.
Production Processes: Continuity & Change
It should perhaps be said that, even if you read Swedish, “Träsmak” will not teach you how to build Swedish stick chairs; it primarily covers their company and design history. There are, however, some comparatively brief but quite interesting passages on how the work was and is done.
As already mentioned, the production context very quickly became factory based, and powered tools and machines have been involved from early on. As example, Palmquist quotes a newspaper article from 1884 on the stick chair industry in Jönköping, where at the time 20 manufacturers turned out some 60,000 chairs a year, and, according to the article, a machine for saddling seats had just come into use that could do in an hour what a skilled worker needed ten to achieve.
That said, a very interesting account by a certain Allvin Leo, who at 13 years old in 1943 began working at Hagafors Stolfabrik, on how chairs were made there back then makes it clear that many manual or semi-manual elements were still involved. He furthermore explains that the factory bought the timber as logs in the round, and did all further processing themselves, including air and kiln drying.
In fact, from Palmquist’s accounts of modern-day production at places like Stolab and Wigells, it is clear that although some parts of the process are now fully automated. Others, for example assembly, are still skilled jobs done pretty much the way it has always been done: with a hammer for assmebly (although compressed air lends a helping hand with pressing some parts together) and glue.
Modern-day stick chairs (Arka and Lilla Åland) being assembled at Stolab in Smålandsstenar.
Swedish stick chair production has also seen its fair share of experimentation, not only with form but also with construction methods. The newspaper article from 1884 talks about how the machine processes led to chair parts being sufficiently interchangeable that chairs could be exported unassembled, thereby saving on both packaging, transport and tariff costs. From at least the 1940s, form-pressed veneer seats has been a way to save on chair weight and speed up production of certain designs. And legs screwed into seats or hardware has both helped production and permitted stick chairs to be (partially) flat-packed.
An Influential Chair & Its Many Children
Probably the most well-known Swedish stick chair of all times is Lilla Åland by Carl Malmsten, a chair that has been in continuous production at Stolab in Smålandsstenar since 1942.
On a visit to Finström Church in the Åland Islands with a group of his students, Malmsten spotted an old stick chair, which they went on to measure and make drawings of. The maker was unknown, but it most likely dated from the latter part of the 19th century, and was in all respects a typical Swedish Windsor-like stick back chair. While most of the actual work was done by one of the students, Sven-Erik Fryklund, then 18 years old, Malmsten supervised and signed off on the design, and eventually handed its manufacture to Stolab.
Then in 1950 Hagafors Stolfabrik began production of Haga, a variation on the design that was entirely by Fryklund’s hand, as was a later (1978) style updated and simplified as Bas (= Basic) for Kooperativa Förbundet, the Swedish Co-op Union.
And in 2010 Nirvan Richter was heavily influenced by both the Malmsten and Fryklund designs when he developed his Pinnstol that is produced by Wigells and sold by the Norrgavel furniture company.
Four famous descendants. From left to right Lilla Åland (Malmsten with Fryklund, 1939), Haga (Fryklund, 1950), Bas (Fryklund, 1978) and Pinnstol (Richter, 2010).
To my mind, all four can be considered almost archetypes of the modern Swedish stick chair; this kind of chair is what I think of first when I hear the word pinnstol, and I suspect the same would be true for many Swedes today.
Concluding Comments
Although the above is but a brief summary of what is after all a book of 200+ pages, I hope it has given both a basic understanding of the book itself and, by extension, a potted history of the modern Swedish stick chair.
It may also have occurred to informed readers that the chairs in this book are not really stick chairs by the Lost Art Press definition, as they were and are factory made and mass produced. This is not a meant in a derogatory sense – just as a clarification. There is no mention in the book of any vernacular stick chair tradition in Sweden, before or during the time period covered. This does not exclude one having existed – staked construction techniques were certainly known and used – but that is not something that Palmquist sets out to explore. (A while back I wrote up some extremely limited research on the matter in a comment to a Klaus Skrudland post here on the blog; if ever I find the time, I’d love to pursue that line of inquiry.)
No matter your definition of “stick chair” though, “Träsmak” is a really interesting book, and well worth buying, even if you cannot or would struggle to read it. The photos are excellent and many, so it is a fantastic visual source of inspiration and ideas for things such as seat and comb shapes, stick configurations and ways to vary a theme. Not least a woodworker familiar with the American Windsor form would, I think, find much to glean from the similarity of difference (to coin an expression) between two forms with shared roots.
As mentioned above it is not a book of instruction, so some knowledge of how to make a stick chair would be needed for any inspiration to be practically applicable, but even just as something to browse through for the beauty of so many of the chairs I find it most worthwhile.
It is also a gorgeous book as such, with great graphic design, properly stitched signatures, a heavy-duty, half-cloth hard cover and nicely printed on good paper in the European Union.
Practical Details for Getting Hold of the Book
“Träsmak – En bok om svenska pinnstolar” is published by Historiska Media, a medium-sized independent Swedish publisher of books on history and cultural history. It first came out in 2018 and, at the time of writing, is still in print.
Historiska Media has a web shop, but only delivers to Sweden. Outside of Sweden, use the ISBN (978-91-7545-783-3) to order it through a local bookstore. (It might also be possible to arrange an inter-library loan through one’s local library; for the curious-but-less-inclined-to-buy, this possibility could be worth exploring.)
This is a pile of parts for one Anarchist’s tool chest class.
One of the most difficult things of late has been sourcing my beloved sugar pine for tool chest classes. It’s “imported” from the West Coast – and with lumber companies struggling to fill demand and the still-high cost of shipping, it has been impossible to get. I’ve heard time and again from my local supplier that “we expect some next week,” but no joy. So I had to find another solution.
I looked for Eastern white pine (another good tool chest choice that’s usually easier to get around here than sugar pine), but all I could find was #2 (at best), and usually too thick (I like a full 7/8″ for the “Anarchist’s Tool Chest” builds). Another decent option is poplar – but it’s harder to cut and chop, so it takes longer for students to work their way through the 52 dovetails that go into this chest (if you go the poplar route, 3/4″ is thick enough – no need for the additional weight). I’ll use poplar for the ATC class if that’s all I can get – but I don’t like to (though it is typically an economical choice). I want my students to have nothing but success, and that’s easier to achieve with a softer wood that has a better “mash factor” – by which I mean you can get away with squeezing a few joints together that really shouldn’t go together because they’re slightly tight, or the cuts aren’t quite straight. Everyone needs a little forgiveness now and then, and poplar has less of it to give.
So, on the recommendation of Jameel Abraham of Benchcrafted, I got in touch with the Amana Furniture and Clock Shop. (Amana Colonies is in Amana, Iowa – it’s where Benchcrafted holds Handworks which, by the by, is now scheduled for September 2023.) Amana cuts and kiln dries linden from the property for use in the shop’s own projects, and Jameel thought there might be some to spare some for tool chest kits. He put me in touch with Chris Ward, sales and manufacturing manager, who worked with his team to make a sample kit for me to try out earlier this year.
I was sold, and I ordered 13 more kits – seven for the class that concluded yesterday, and six for my February ATC class (to save money on shipping). I can’t make the kits for less than Amana charges (and right now I can’t even get material) – and they have better facilities and industrial-sized equipment for making the multiple large panels for many chests all at once. Plus they have more than one person to do it! And to be frank, they can produce better large panels than can I, because they have a panel clamp system and a wide-belt sander to level the seams if need be. I have K-bodies and handplanes (which work just fine – but not quickly when there are 28 panels to glue up and flatten). I did the final squaring and sizing in our shop…because I’m anal retentive. But perhaps for my next order, I’ll have their team do that, too; my back is not getting any younger.
The prepared wood arrived in crates – I’m glad it was a sunny day.
But I wasn’t completely convinced on the linden (which is also known as basswood and American lime) until we started cutting the joints. With experience now in a class setting, I actually think it is in some ways better than pine – there are no sap pockets or streaks, so saws don’t get gummy and therefore cut more smoothly for longer (no need to stop and clean them), and it’s a little less fragile on the corners. That makes sense, given that it’s slightly harder on the Janka scale (sugar pine is 380; linden is 410) – but not so much more dense that it weighs significantly more. (I meant to weigh one of the finished linden chest for comparison…but I forgot. But I did help lift four of the six into various vehicles, and I’ve lifted dozens of pine ATCs into cars and trucks over the years, and I noticed little weight difference. I’d guess maybe 5-10 additional pounds.) It also takes paint nicely – much like pine and poplar. I tested General Finishes “milk paint” on an offcut, and was pleased to find that two coats will likely be sufficient (at least in dark blue).
This is two coats of (hastily applied) Twilight (yes, blue).
My only complaint is that linden has little odor; I missed the scent of the pine. When seven people are working hard, well, a bit of natural pine air freshener is a bonus (I’ll hang a pine air freshener under every bench for the next class!). And the students did work very hard – everyone left with a chest just about ready for final cleanup (finish planing/sanding) – and they all looked great.
