Lost Art Press

Author: Lost Art Press

Publisher of woodworking books and videos specializing in hand tool techniques.

A Redneck Woodworker, Minus the Accent

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Photo by Narayan Nayar

A few years ago, a new neighbor stopped me while I was on a run.

“Hey, I know you. You’re Christopher Schwarz,” he said. “What are you doing here, visiting?”

No, I told him, I live here. Then he looked confused.

“I thought you lived in New England, what with the way you write, look and talk,” he said. And that’s when I looked confused.

Despite 11 years of writing blogs and 21 years of writing for woodworking magazines, I’m always amused by people who think they know me but have it mostly wrong. So to mark the launch of my personal website for my furniture work (check it out here), I offer you this concise summation of me.

Though I was born in St. Louis, Mo., I grew up in Arkansas on Wildcat Mountain and did all the things that redneck kids do: fishing every day after school, hunting, hiking, camping, blowing stuff up (we made our own napalm) and cruising in souped-up crappy cars. If I had my way, every meal would feature a combination of the following foods: grits, barbecue, brisket, fried chicken, biscuits, sausage gravy, cornbread, greens, smoked ham and anything from the other allied Southern cuisines – Cajun, Creole or lowcountry.

I don’t have an accent; my three sisters do. But I am Southern to the marrow and have spent the majority of my life below the Mason-Dixon line. I am comfortable with Southern politeness (false as it may be), Southern insecurities and our hyperbole.

I attended segregated public schools. The mascot for my high school was a morbidly obese Confederate soldier; our school song was “Dixie.” I refused to sing it at pep rallies or convocations and, like most Southerners I know, am disgusted by our shameful history of racism and slavery.

I left the South to attend college outside Chicago, thinking I’d find a more enlightened place. I was wrong, and the day after graduation I moved to Greenville, S.C. I don’t fit in up North.

I’m a redneck. I have a master’s degree, but I lack the Southern accent. I drive a pickup truck, but it’s a Toyota. I love the South, but I am at odds with the backward ideas sometimes peddled down here.

That’s about all there is to say about me, except for the things I’ve built, and the things I’ve written. And that (clearly, see above) I hate to have my photo taken.

— Christopher Schwarz

Countdown to Nancy R. Hiller at Lost Art Press

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Editor’s Note: In seven days Nancy R. Hiller will read a selection from her fantastic book “Making Things Work” at our Covington, Ky., storefront. After that, there will be the usual post-reading activities: bashing a pinata shaped like a biscuit joiner, playing a game with blindfolds and sinking nails into a tree stump.

Did I mention there will be free drinks?

We still have a few spots left in the free event before the local fire department will get grumpy. If you are interested, sign up here. And feel free to bring a date or a spouse (but not both).

This week, I will feature some of my favorite passages from “Making Things Work,” which is hands-down the funniest, gut-punchingest book I’ve read in years.

In this scene, Nancy is writing a list of her business’s expenses on a series of napkins to explain to a wine-and-cheese poser that her business is legit.

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The sideboard I made for the book I’m writing about English Arts and Crafts furniture for Popular Woodworking’s book’s division. Photo by Al Parrish. 2017.

“And yes, my shop is behind my house. But I no longer live in the house. I had to move out during the recession, which absolutely gutted my business. During the worst year, my gross sales (i.e. including materials) were $17,000. I slashed the overhead and everything else to the bone. I relied on my credit card to pay lots of bills, a debt that took the following two years to pay off. I’m incredibly lucky that my boyfriend at the time – now my husband – invited me to move in with him; at least that way I no longer had to pay for all of my living expenses on one decimated income.

“That year from hell, I obviously could not even pay myself minimum wage after covering the overheads. You’re probably wondering why I didn’t just go out and get a couple of jobs – you know, bagging groceries, cleaning toilets at the office supply store…. Believe me, I thought about it.”

— Nancy R. Hiller

An Early Split-top Workbench from Spain

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Researcher Suzanne Ellison recently turned up this unusual Spanish split-top workbench that resides in the Museo Ángel Orensanz y Artes del Serrablo. It’s remarkable to find an early split-top bench (which were quite unusual until recently, thanks to Mike Siemsen and Benchcrafted). But the configuration of the benchtop is enough to make you your scratch your head a bit.

Each top is 18 x 14 cm (7” wide x 5-1/2” thick) and are separated by a gap that is 8-1/4” wide. The two tops are joined with two crossbars that are through-tenoned into the tops. The four legs are tenoned into the tops and there is an unusual leg vise (four handles!) that drives a chop that is 58 x 20 cm (22-3/4 x 7-7/8” wide).

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The bench overall is 70 cm x 230 cm x 57 cm (27-1/2” high x 90-1/2” long x 22-1/2” deep). The museum obtained the bench in the early 1980s but does not list an approximate age of the bench.

My first reaction to this bench was that perhaps it was for another trade or a specialized purpose, though the museum lists it as a carpenter’s bench. But the more I thought about the bench, the more I think it was used for carpentry or furniture.

The bench is a standard size for a woodworking bench. The vise is clearly set up for woodworking, despite the unusual handles on the screw. There appears to be a holdfast in the rear top. And there are holdfast holes in the front right leg, suggesting the bench was used for edge jointing.

The square block sitting on the top of the bench is a bit of a mystery. It could be a mallet in dog hole, some jig or something else.

If I were forced to speculate, my guess is this was a bench used for woodworking where the owner didn’t deal with stock that was both thin and wide. Of course, the gap between the two tops could have been filled in by a chunk of timber at some point or a tool tray or any number of other things.

So the next time I’m in Spain….

— Christopher Schwarz

New Stickers (Rated PG) from Lost Art Press

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For those of you who have enjoyed the Sharpen This series of blog entries, we offer this new set of stickers with a special full-color sticker featuring the expression “Sharpen This.”

For those of you who are disappointed or disgusted by my juvenile behavior, I ask you to simply look away. Scolding me will only encourage an even fouler set of stickers next time. (I’m weird like that.)

These are quality 100 percent vinyl stickers – the larger ones are 5” x 2”. They will survive the outdoors – heck you could put one on your car.

Want a set? You can order them from her etsy store here. They are $6 delivered ($10 for international orders).

Or, for customers in the United States, you can send a $5 bill and a SASE (self-addressed stamped envelope) to by daughter Maddy at:

Stick it to the Man
P.O. Box 3284
Columbus, OH 43210

As always, this is not a money-making venture for me or Lost Art Press. All profits help Maddy squeak through college without debt (and it is going to be close).

— Christopher Schwarz

Sharpen This, Part 10: Oh, Stewardess! I Speak Jive

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Some days I wish there were a Google Translate filter for woodworking forums and podcasts. It would allow people to understand what is really being said. Below are some actual quotes I’ve heard through the years and my rough translation of them.

Statement: “As soon as you pick up a hand tool you are losing money.”

Translation: “I can’t sharpen.”

Statement: “Some of my students went down the hand-tool route and became frustrated when the tools didn’t do what was promised.”

Translation: “I cannot sharpen, and I encourage my students to skip it.”

Statement:
“With reverent pause, I turn on the switch
And submit to the roar and the sounds that bewitch.
Abrasion, vibration, my only sensations
My art I pursue of instant creations.”

Translation: “I can’t sharpen or write poetry.”

Statement: “To the last, I grapple with thee; From Hell’s heart, I stab at thee; For hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee.”

Translation: “Wanna find out if I can sharpen, whale?”

Statement: “When tools were rude, great precision and nicety of finish could not be expected. To return to the crude joints of our ancestors would be a distinctly retrograde move.”

Translation: “I cuddle with my Kreg Jig.”

Statement: “Let machinery be honest – and make its own machine buildings and its own machine furniture; let it make its chairs and tables of stamped aluminum if it likes: Why not?”

Translation: “Sharpen this.”

— Christopher Schwarz