In the next year or two I want to travel to South Korea and lately have been researching temple stays. One temple that is very appealing is Jeondeungsa Temple on Ganghwa-gun Island, Incheon. The temple is located within the Samnangseong Fortress and is the oldest Buddhist temple in Korea. Daeungjeon, the main hall, was built in 381.
Besides a week of fresh air and contemplation there are ancient trees and beautiful temple architecture to explore….and the legend of the lovelorn carpenter. It seems the head carpenter of Daeungjeon had love issues.
There are variations to the legend as one would expect after 1,635 years. Some say the head carpenter met and fell in love with a local woman who scorned him and stole his money. Heartbroken and miserable he carved four figures of women and placed each one under the eaves of the temple roof. The small crouched figures are easy to spot under the lovely wood and faded paint of the eaves.
My favorite version (of course it is!) is more specific as to the intentions of the carpenter: his wife grew tired of waiting for him to return and left him. He carved the small crouching figures holding up each corner of the roof to symbolize his wish for her to carry a heavy burden for the rest of her life. Omo!
A few days ago I was working my way through a German website and in a footnote came across two verses of a 19th century Shaker song. I found the song in the Smithsonian Folkways collection and it turns out the two verses on the German site were the second and third verses. Here are the notes from the Smithsonian collection:
“They sang whenever there was an appropriate occasion…at work…at social gatherings…while marching from one place to another.
One of the songs they sang while at work expresses eloquently their passion for perfection in everything they did and in every item they made.”
So far I have not found the title of the song (if there is one), no sheet music and no recording. It is up to you to sing the song as you see fit.
Breast augers, Swedish, dated 1770-1850, from Robert Young Antiques.
In his introduction to “Woodworking in Estonia” Mr. Peter Follansbee captured the spirit of this book when he wrote, “The products featured in the book are everyday items found in country households, combining utility and beauty in ways that speak volumes. This book shows us a culture that remained connected to its environment and its traditions long after some others had lost their way.”
An example of the Estonian craftsman’s knowledge of and relationship to wood is the use of naturally occuring shapes to make tools. Mr. Follansbee used the example of forked draw knives (hollowing knives): “A handle made this way follows the fibers of the tree, and it therefore stronger than one made by bending or joining straight sections of timber.” On the cover of the book is a gimlet made from a bough.
From the section on Boring Tools in “Woodworking in Estonia.”
As Ants Viires describes it, “The gimlet, like other similar borers, was a tool which had to be applied with force, and it was equipped with an appropriate head that could be braced against the chest. Boring was hard work: “When you bored for some time, your chest bones gave out fire” (Pärnu-Jaagup)…When the work became too tiring, a small boy was placed astride the implement for weight…”
Some of the breast augers (or gimlets) in the top photo are made from branches and like the Estonian example several are carved with dates and initials. The Swedish augers range in size from 31 inches high by 19.5 inches wide to 18 inches high by 13.75 inches wide.
Other objects made from branches and roots that can be found in the book are boat ribs, wheel fellies and sled runners.
I recently showed my mother some of the sketches of Estonian tools made from branches and she reminded me of the slingshots my father used to make for her. When we lived in Fayetteville and Fort Bragg in North Carolina we had to be careful of the wild animals that might come into our backyards. Basking snakes and roaming snapping turtles were the most dangerous. My father used a forked branch to make the slingshot; the sling was cut from the inner tube of a tire. After some obligatory target practice (a tree was the target) my mother was a pretty good shot.
Once a particularly pugnacious (and big) snapping turtle arrived on the patio and was not intimidated by mother’s efforts with her slingshot. With me stranded on our picnic table my mother had to call my father to come home from the airfield and save me!
–Suzanne Ellison
Note: To clarify the use of auger and gimlet in this post here are excerpts from the section on boring tools in “Woodworking in Estonia.”
From Gimlets: ” Like all drills, the gimlet also consists of two parts: the iron and the head. The iron part is usually referred to simply as “auger,” while the head is known as “auger’s head.” On the islands it is called “auger’s handles.”
The gimlets made by early country smiths were of the bowl type (spoon borer). The characteristic veature of this implement was the bit, known as “kaha” (“kahv”) that is shaped like the spoon bowl and made possible boring in both directions.”
From Augers: “Under this term we refer to various borers differing in shape and size, the only common feature being a handlebar placed perpendicular to the top of the shaft. As such the borers are the simplest turning device, which was probably the starting point for the creation of a more complicated gimlet.”
And from Ants Viires’ summary of boring tools: “At the beginning of the millennium, certain borers were already in use in the country. The most primitive was the awl, which was often used after heating. The spoon-shaped borers of the gimlet or auger type were also fairly widespread.”
As I work on the index for “Roubo on Furniture” my appreciation for Monsieur Roubo continues to grow. Through the efforts of the translation team Roubo’s voice comes through and he certainly has opinions. Between explanations of how to use tools and make chairs, tables, desks and beds for all occasions he expresses his disdain for chairmakers and exasperation with carvers. Especially the carvers.
Back in the autumn of 2014 I put together several projects to help publicize “The Book of Plates.” Many of the bits and pieces I used are from plates you will see in “Roubo on Furniture.” One project was a short story about Chris’ encounter with some unruly chairs. You can read “Cool!” here.
The next project combined the many tools drawn by Roubo with a crow. “Mine!” brought together the crow’s use of tools, ability to innovate and its well known behavior for “I want, I take.”
Other bits and pieces became the “Wingnut Ducks.” The “cattails” and the flying squadron of “bugs” are all from the plates.
Congratulations to the translation team for the extraordinary work you have done on this second volume of “To Make as Perfectly as Possible.”
Joint Stool or Table, 1720-1750, maker unknown. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
“From colonial times and into the 19th century, every town and hamlet in Rhode Island supported woodworking shops along main streets and wharves and in farmstead backyards. The artisans developed regional styles; every few miles, different floral and striped patterns became popular designs for mahogany, walnut and pine furniture.”
That is the opening line of an article from the July 29th New York Times. It is a short article packed with information about regional furniture studies and work on databases, including Rhode Island, the Antebellum South and Boston. The article opens with a description of a new exhibit, “Art and Industry in Early America: Rhode Island Furniture, 1650-1830,” opening in August at the Yale University Art Gallery. You can read the article here.
The Joint Stool or Table (description here) is from the Rhode Island Furniture Archive. Although details and current locations for each piece are not always known, where available, you can get dimensions, inscriptions, provenance, construction and a bibliography.
Slat-back Armchair, 1800-1825, attributed to Thomas Taylor. Photo by Cherry Fletcher Bamberg.
This armchair in the vernacular style still has traces of red paint. It is currently in the collection of Historic New England. The previous owner, Cherry Fletcher Bamberg received it through “descent in the family of Thomas Taylor.”
Pembroke Table, 1785-1790, John Townsend. Winterthur Museum.
The Pembroke table description includes, “The gadrooned molding applied to the lower edge of the stretchers is held with screws.”
The main page of the Archive is here. Go explore. I’m going to look up “gadrooned.”
There are variations to the legend as one would expect after 1,635 years. Some say the head carpenter met and fell in love with a local woman who scorned him and stole his money. Heartbroken and miserable he carved four figures of women and placed each one under the eaves of the temple roof. The small crouched figures are easy to spot under the lovely wood and faded paint of the eaves.
My favorite version (of course it is!) is more specific as to the intentions of the carpenter: his wife grew tired of waiting for him to return and left him. He carved the small crouching figures holding up each corner of the roof to symbolize his wish for her to carry a heavy burden for the rest of her life. Omo!
As I work on the index for “Roubo on Furniture” my appreciation for Monsieur Roubo continues to grow. Through the efforts of the translation team Roubo’s voice comes through and he certainly has opinions. Between explanations of how to use tools and make chairs, tables, desks and beds for all occasions he expresses his disdain for chairmakers and exasperation with carvers. Especially the carvers.
