That deep exhaling noise you just heard is probably coming from Kentucky, Virginia, Ohio and Maryland. Today we finished initial production of the long-awaited “With All the Precision Possible: Roubo on Furniture.”
Weighing in at 470 pages, this book represents too many hours of work by too many people on too many continents. As I paged through the final product today before sending it to our printers for a quote, I could feel only relief. Not joy. Not satisfaction. (Those feelings might come later.)
Instead, today I have only to tell you something that we rarely say: This project was difficult at every stage. It ground all of us down to a nub. I am glad that I’ll never have to repeat it. And I am fearful to tally up all the money that we spent on it.
Was it worth it? I hope so. Like all of our difficult and protracted publishing projects, I know “Roubo on Furniture” was the right thing to do for the craft and the historical record. But when I count up the hours and calculate the communal grief, I question its value.
All of us can see how much better this project could be if we only had 20 more years to explore this, that or the other thing from the original text.
But some of us won’t be around in 20 years. So here is what we have. It’s not perfect. But it is done with all the precision possible.
In the next week or so, we will offer “With All the Precision Possible: Roubo on Furniture” for sale in our store (and through our network of retailers worldwide). And then we will start work on the deluxe edition of the book (details to follow on that). But as of today I don’t have any more information for you on this book. No prices. No delivery date.
Just a quick reminder that we will be open from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Saturday to sell books and talk woodworking at our headquarters: 837 Willard St. in Covington, Ky.
We have our full line of books here, plus lots of T-shirts, stickers and posters – including some letterpress “Anarchist’s Tool Chest Posters” that I just dug up. And we also have about 13 blemished or returned books that are half price (cash only), including a few copies of the standard edition of “Roubo on Marquetry.”
GOLD and silver; earthenware, pewter and china, have, in different times and under different circumstances been used for plates. Our own forefathers relied on wood. From the earliest times to days well within living memory the wooden platter, the bowl, the drinking vessel, the spoon and even the knife and fork lay on the rude trestle table for daily meals.
Many countrymen recall the wooden implements of childhood memory, and the writer himself remembers the flattened wood porridge plate and the coarse surfaced bowl of the wooden spoon.
Until early Tudor times the wooden platter was almost universal. Then, and for long before (indeed, too, for long afterwards) the common table was found in every home, the humblest stable boy “supping with his titled lord.” His only dish might be a square wooden platter such as (A) in the illustration, whilst for anything approaching an implement such as a knife or fork the fingers and teeth were sufficiently dexterous for the purpose. Later, as ideas of refinement crept in, superior wooden vessels were found at the head of the table, whilst cruder ones were provided for retainers at the lower end.
Dogs (many of them) did much of the cleaning up. When wooden knives, forks and spoons, rather more difficult to fashion, came into general use it was the custom of visitors to bring their own with them.
The gradual development of the plate is interesting, although its various forms cannot be traced with absolute accuracy. Naturally they vary in different countries. Quite obviously, the earliest plate was a mere platter – a roughly squared board (as A), perhaps about 8 ins. To 10 ins., with its upper surface smoothed for reasonably comfortable use. The first innovation was a shallow circular sinking in the board as at (B), the depression preventing the overflow of gravy. The addition of a smaller sinking at one corner for salt came later.
Larger flat trenchers from which the food was handed round the table took a rectangular form and might be 18 ins. by 12 ins. or more. These would have rounded corners, whilst, after dishing came to be introduced, they frequently took an oval or square-oval form. A deeper cavity at one end to take the gravy has in pewter and earthenware dishes, continued to the present day.
The dishing, or hollowing, of platters gradually brought in the circular form, of which (C) is the earliest. At first the centre of the plate was kept flat as at E, 1), but hollows such as those at (C),
(D) and (E, 2) became more frequent. The section at (F) is a later development. These circular plates might be from 6½ in. to 9 in. in diameter, but often for special purposes exceeded this size. Note that at (D) there is practically no rim. At (C) the rim is hardly more than a bead, whilst at (E) and (F) the rims are much wider. As craftsmen gained skill in turning, the bowls of these plates became deeper and better suited to their purpose; delicately moulded rims appeared, and, as the under surfaces were worked to a pleasing and useful section, the plate became lighter to handle. Sycamore was the most generally favoured wood for dishes in which cooked food was to be placed. For bread and uncooked fruit, beech plates were more common.
— From The Woodworker magazine, edited by Charles H. Hayward
Every month we get queries from people who want to write a book for us. And every month I send each of them a nice rejection letter. We simply don’t choose authors that way.
Every Lost Art Press book begins as a long conversation between the writer, John and me about things that may or may not become a book. Most of these conversations are dead ends, but they are interesting dead ends.
During the conversations, we’re also sizing up the author as a person and asking ourselves the questions: Do we want to be in business with this person? Do we like them? Do we share the same ethics about the craft and business?
If all the stars align, we start working on a book together. And if the stars align again, it gets published.
Starting Monday we’re going to introduce you to each of our authors through lengthy profiles written by Kara Gebhart Uhl and published here. The first one will be on Peter Galbert, author of “Chairmaker’s Notebook.”
This book started out as a three-way conversation between Peter, Curtis Buchanan and me in Berea, Ky. The project took several crazy turns until it finally was birthed as the massive “Chairmaker’s Notebook.”
I’ve already read Kara’s profile of Peter, and I learned a lot about Peter, even though I’ve known him for years.
I hope you enjoy these periodic profiles. After Peter, Kara will be writing about Robert Wearing and Matt Bickford.
MACHINIST: Well, I assume that you generally make small things. If ever you decide, say, to panel one of your rooms, I trust that you will remain true to your principles and do all your ripping out, grooving, moulding, and jointing by hand!
(Editor’s note: This is the final entry in this series. No surprise – it ended with a troll. — CS)