Category: Lost Art Press Storefront

Here’s a last-minute surprise: Don Williams will be at our storefront this Saturday (Oct. 14) to sign books and talk about all things A.J. Roubo, H.O. Studley and historical finishing.

If you’d like to chat with Don and ask him to sign a book, be sure to stop by between 11 a.m. and 2 p.m. (I don’t want to force him to stay in one place all day.) Don is the author (or co-author) of some of our most intense and rewarding books, including:

With All the Precision Possible: Roubo on Furniture
To Make as Perfectly as Possible: Roubo on Marquetry
Virtuoso: The Tool Cabinet and Workbench of Henry O. Studley

Don is a wellspring of information on historical finishing techniques (he is the only person I know with a shellac collection?). And is a remarkably generous person with his time and his hard-won information. So this visit is a very pleasant surprise.

As I mentioned before, we’ll have lots to see this weekend, including my completed Saalburg workbench (a replica of a surviving 1,800-year-old workbench) and the Horse Garage, which will become our machine room. Plus Megan Fitzpatrick and Brendan Gaffney from Popular Woodworking Magazine will be hanging around. It should be a fun day.

The storefront is located at 837 Willard St. in Covington, Ky. We’re open from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.

— Christopher Schwarz

After 21 years of working in shops in the suburbs or (worse) sprawling edge cities, I was thrilled to move to a storefront on Willard Street in Covington, Ky. It has exceeded every expectation, and I have forged a lot of great relationships with nearby woodworkers, metalworkers, carpenters and glass artists.

On top of that, the architecture is an endless source of inspiration, offering pattern, shadow, ornament and form. And my store’s plate-glass windows are like a high-definition television tuned to the human dramas on the sidewalks. Here are my three favorite tales from the last two years.

Sprinting in the City
While my daughter Katy and I were walking back to the store from lunch, I challenged her to a foot race down Ninth Street. She declined. But as we turned onto Ninth, she changed her mind and took off running. I pursued her – sprinting at top speed.

It was a spring day, and all the cars lined up at the stoplight on Ninth Street had their windows open. And the drivers and passengers started yelling at us.

“Hey! You leave her alone!” one driver yelled.

“Stop chasing her!” another screamed. “I’ll call the cops!”

I started laughing so hard I lost the race.

Money Doesn’t Buy Good Taste
It’s pretty common for local residents to stop by the shop to see what I’m building. They also like to look at the completed pieces of furniture waiting to go to customers.

One day a woman stopped by who was looking for work cleaning bathrooms (sorry, I clean my own toilets). After walking in she rushed to the back of the room, dropped to her knees and started examining the fretwork on the staked dining table we use as a desk. She spent a few minutes examining that table, then moved to the aumbry to examine the carving. Then one of my chairs.

She went on a rant about store-bought furniture that any woodworker would recognize. This woman, who you might think is homeless, had really good taste in furniture. (Better taste than my suburban neighbors on the whole.)

If it Looks Like a Crime Scene…
Last winter when I was building the 1505 Loffelholz workbench I was having a heck of a time getting the tail vise working properly. After a frustrating day of adjusting it and failing, I gave up and decided to go home.

I locked the shop’s door and walked to my truck. I had a sudden idea on adjusting the vise that stopped me dead in my tracks. I turned around, unlocked the shop door and immediately slid under the bench, lying on my back. I was so excited I forgot to close the shop’s door.

After 10 minutes of working on my back, I heard someone running toward me.

“I’m calling 911! Are you OK? Are you hurt? Did they rob you?”

A guy was standing in the open doorway, out of breath, with a cellphone.

Again, I started laughing. Except for a pool of blood it looked like a crime scene. I was flat on my back, staring straight up. The door was wide open.

I know a lot of woodworkers fantasize about a cozy workshop out in the woods somewhere where they can be surrounded by nature. And be free from distractions of human society. But for me, a city workshop is best shop I’ve ever had.

— Christopher Schwarz, editor, Lost Art Press
Personal site: christophermschwarz.com

After two years of enduring our search for an old building in Covington, our real estate agent showed us something a bit different. It was a large and beautiful unit in an old commercial building. There was a storefront on the bottom. Living space up above. But here’s what was different than every other place we’d seen:

The entire building had been gutted and redone with new everything – mechanicals, plaster, flooring, windows. It even had off-street parking. All we had to do was pick the paint colors. The price was a bit higher than we wanted to pay. But to that the agent said:

“By the time you fix up a place in your price range, you’ll have spent way more than this place costs.”

She was absolutely right. I knew it the moment she said it. But still we said, no thanks.

For me, fixing up an old building is about uncovering the original intent of the builder, removing as much of the modern “improvements” as possible and gently restoring the place back to its original appearance.

During the restoration of the storefront area at 837 Willard Street, we’ve removed thousands of feet of wiring, lots of plumbing and significant amounts of silly ductwork. From the building’s floor, I think we’ve pulled up almost 3” of old floor. The plaster walls had been layer caked in plywood, wainscotting, then stud walls, drywall and then ridiculous moulding.

On Saturday we turned our attention to the garage out back, which will become my machine room. It’s a circa 1905 cinderblock structure that was listed on the city’s fire insurance maps as a stable. So we call it the “horse garage.”

Most of the advice from my friends and neighbors has been along the lines of, “Tear it down and build what you want. It will look better and be cheaper.”

They’re probably right. But that thought won’t enter my head. Once you tear down an old building, it’s gone forever. You can’t bring it back. If a structure can be saved, I think it should be saved.

I may someday regret this attitude. And that day may come this week.

Megan Fitzpatrick, Justin Leib and Brendan Gaffney all pitched Saturday in for a full day of demolition, which filled a 20-yard roll-away dumpster. (I’ll probably have to fill it twice more as I remove the modern gabled roof this week.)

As in the main structure, the stable was layers and layers of crap on the walls and ceilings. The most interesting find from the day was evidence that the stable had been used as a small apartment or house, probably in the 1960s. One of the stable doors had been altered to have a window surrounded by plaster. The other stable door had been converted into an entryway door. And a good deal of abandoned plumbing pointed out where a bathroom and kitchen had been.

Despite all the dust, bugs and debris, we did have one good omen on Saturday: We didn’t find any glitter.

And now to the roof.

— Christopher Schwarz, editor, Lost Art Press
Personal site: christophermschwarz.com

We have lots going on at the storefront now, so if you wanted to pick a good weekend for a visit, Oct. 14 would be ideal. Here’s a short list of stuff to see:

1. I’m building my reproduction of the Saalburg workbench right now. It should be complete (or nearly complete). Come check out the workholding and let us know what you think about our experimental archaeology project.
2. I’m also making a crazy dugout chair – a style of chair that was popular in the British Isles in the 18th and 19th centuries (and maybe earlier). It should also be complete by then and will have some unusual details involving roadkill.
3. We’ll have copies of the deluxe “Roubo on Furniture Making” and will be supplying commemorative bibs to keep your drool off them (just kidding about the bibs). If you want to see a book that exceeds all our others, this is your chance.
4. Demolition has begun on the “Horse Garage” behind the storefront, which will become the machine room for my shop. Come see barren walls and debris!
5. We’ll have a large load of Crucible dividers that are seconds. The have tiny cosmetic flaws and are $90 cash. And Raney has threatened to hang out and show off our next tool from Crucible.
6. Finally, as always, we’re happy to answer questions about tools or techniques – or even give you a sharpening lesson.

Our storefront is at 837 Willard St. in Covington, Ky. The hours are 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. every second Saturday of the month.

— Christopher Schwarz, editor, Lost Art Press
Personal site: christophermschwarz.com