Category: Good Work: The Chairmaking Life of John Brown

When deciding what chairs to place in the historic buildings collected at the St Fagans National Museum of Wales, Emyr Davies says museum officials have to be careful.

If they place a high-style chair in a house or a room at the castle, no one will bother it, says Emyr, the senior conservator for furniture. But if they put one of the vernacular Welsh stick chairs on display, visitors are so drawn to them and curious that they will plop right down in them.

During my visit to St Fagans I felt that same urge to sit in every chair, but I resisted (perhaps because I was accompanied by museum officials). So instead I took 200 photographs of the 29 chairs that we inspected during the day. Some of the chairs were as familiar as old friends because I had studied them ad nauseam in John Brown’s “Welsh Stick Chairs.”

But about half of the chairs were new to me – chairs that had been in the storerooms of St Fagans or in their shop for repair. These chairs were a revelation and offered details I had not encountered before in books. One was green with yellow pinstripes. Another had a crest rail that resembled a cartoon dog bone. I believe I counted three seat shapes that were new to me. Plus, one that was painted with oxblood.

I also had the great privilege to listen to Emyr’s thoughts on the chairs after spending his career studying and repairing them. Here’s one detail to consider.

Emyr puts the chairs into two broad categories. The first category consists of chairs that have – for lack of a better word – Windsor-like qualities. Sticks that pass through an armbow and enter a crest rail (or comb) at the top of the chair. The second category of chairs are technically low-back chairs. The arm is usually quite massive and is obviously made from a branch that has either been trained into this shape while the tree was alive or was found in the wild.

Emyr has several names for these chairs that reflect the shape of the arm, including “hornback” and “rootback” chairs. They also are sometimes called Cardiganshire chairs because that area of Wales tends to produce lots of curved timber.

I’ve never built a chair from this second category because the arm always vexed me. The solution to that is, as Emyr put it: Get a dog and go for walks in the woods. You’ll see the arms in the branches.

So just as I was placing a few of those chairs on my to-build list, we walked into one of the buildings open to the public, and I was struck dumb by a chair that is named in my notes as Chair 024. I took 19 photos of this chair. That’s a love affair in my world, and I’ll write about this beauty in my next entry.

— Christopher Schwarz

I’ve known Chris Williams for a few years, and I now feel we are destined to have our lives intertwined for the rest of my days. There simply isn’t anyone else who thinks about chairs in the the way I do. And when I say chairs, I mean Welsh chairs.

I don’t know if I have any real Welsh in my blood. My latest Ancestry.com profile says 22 percent of my DNA is from England, Wales and nearby. While that’s something, I do know that Welsh chairs are etched in my brain.

When I pulled up to Chris’s tidy home in Llanybri late Tuesday I night, I hugged him, and we talked about chairs until midnight. When I left Saturday morning, our last words (before a warning about a tricky turn on my trip) were about chairs.

And the rest of the time in the middle was all about chairs as well.

During my visit, Chris was building a chair in his garage, sneaking off at odd hours to fashion its sticks. Plus, he had two recently completed chairs in the guest room. One was a new design he has been working on (follow him on Instagram if you want see its development) and the other was for his book “The Life & Work of John Brown.”

All three are markedly different. So we spent hours (apologies to Chris’s wife, Claire) talking about the details down to the facets, grain lines and fibers.

While we were muddling minutiae, Chris would stop and exclaim: “You couldn’t say something like that in front of John Brown. He’d tell you to (expletive deleted). He was all about the form.”

Like naughty schoolboys, we did it anyway. Apologies to the memory of John Brown.

— Christopher Schwarz

I am particularly pleased to tell you that Chris Williams will travel from Wales to the Lost Art Press storefront in Covington, Ky., on May 20-24, 2019, to teach his class on building Welsh stick chairs.

Chris worked with John Brown in Wales for many years, refining the design of this chair while cranking out hundreds of them to sell. I know of no one else alive who knows more about building these chairs than Chris.

After assisting in his class last year, I can say that his approach to making these chairs is remarkable. Chris seeks to teach students how to make these chairs with a minimum of jigs and just a small set of tools. You don’t need a shavehorse, and most of the work is with handplanes.

And because of Chris’s long friendship with John Brown (who passed away 10 years ago) you can almost hear John Brown’s voice in the lessons – “think round,” “think flat” and “I don’t give a monkey’s….” In addition to the lessons in woodworking, Chris is keen on explaining John Brown’s world – how JB approached the craft, embraced handwork and broached no compromise.

Most of all, however, students walk away with one beautiful chair. These chairs are incredibly comfortable, roomy and stout. And this chair is what launched me on my chairmaking journey more than 15 years ago and remains my obsession.

Because of the intense nature of this class, we request that students in the class have built at least one chair before attending. The class can be demanding at times. Your tools need to be sharp and ready to go. This is not a beginner’s course.

For full details on the class, go to our registration page. Registration opens at 10 a.m. Eastern on Oct. 12. There will be only six students, and I’ll be assisting Chris again, so there will be lots of personal attention throughout the week.

— Christopher Schwarz