Two weeks ago, James Wright and his daughter Melody visited Lost Art Press to do a video tour and interview. James – aka Wood by Wright – is one of the important people who are keeping hand tool woodworking alive on the internet. (Also important in my book: Rex Krueger.)
I love both these guys – though I hardly know them – because they are passionate about handwork. But they also don’t take sponsorships or money from tool companies. This means that when James goes on a multi-year investigation of glues, that the whole series isn’t going to end with #ad.
I’ve been watching their videos for years, and it’s fair to say that we don’t agree on everything. But that’s the beauty of the (I’ll say it) kinder hand tool community. I’ve always felt in good company at meetings of EAIA and M-WTCA, even when a few of them wanted to wring my neck for my love of Stanley Type 11 bench planes.
Anyway, James and I had a nice long chat about what we do at Lost Art Press and why. In the coming weeks he says he’ll edit and post his tour of our workshop, storefront and warehouse.
If you aren’t familiar with James or Rex, it’s time to remedy that. Subscribe to their YouTube channels and (at the very least) Instagram feeds.
A great exhibit on early Michigan logging I found recently during a trip.
Almost every week – especially during the summer – we get messages from readers who want help with an upcoming trip. They are headed to Kalamazoo, Michigan, and would like a list of woodworking stuff in the area that they can visit.
For me, answering these questions is time-consuming. I have to go back and consult my notes, my blog and my photo library. Then I have to find the websites for these places and write a sentence or two about why this place is important.
Well, I’m not going to answer these questions anymore. Instead, I’m going to send readers to the blog entry you are reading that explains how I research an area for woodworking sites before I visit it.
And we’re also not going to publish a woodworking travel guide. Most published travel guides are for people who are too lazy/clueless/disconnected to do a little research themselves. And we don’t have the resources (or desire) to publish such a guide.
(Apologies if I sound salty. I’m not.)
Note that my woodworking interests are different than yours. I don’t get goo-goo eyes for veneer mills, ornate palace furniture or places that sell only exotic hardwoods. I like to look at furniture made for normal people, old workshops, factories and museums that specialize in vernacular furniture and architecture.
Anyway, here’s what I do before I travel.
Many open-air museums have relaxed rules about examining the furniture.
House Museums, History Museums & Open-air Museums
This should be obvious. Seach for the name of the place you are going, <place name>, plus the word “museum.” Remember that Americans tend to think of cities as places. Other cultures might think in terms of provinces or regions. Usually this sort of search will call up a lot of the high-class places that feature oil paintings and sculpture. If they have any furniture, it’s likely to be fancy.
And that’s why my next search is <place name> plus “history museum.” Every little town with more than 100 people is bound to have a local history museum. And these hidden gems almost always have furniture pieces that were owned by the founders or made in the area. Plus, the volunteers who work there are almost always a fire hose of information about the area. Searches on the internet don’t always turn up every museum or installation because some of them are too obscure.
Next search: <place name> plus “open-air museum.” Or start here. This list is huge, but most of the open-air museums I have visited are not on it. What’s an “open-air museum?” Typically it’s a place where a bunch of buildings from different eras have been gathered. (Usually the buildings were going to be torn down.) Most times, these building are filled with furniture and wooden decorative objects – spoons, plates, goblets, racks, buckets and on and on.
You get to see pieces in context. A visit to one of these museums can fuel a lifetime of research.
If I’m headed to a big city, I’ll try <place name> plus “decorative arts.” Some museums lower themselves to have a decorative arts wing. And one of the decorative arts is furniture.
Or I’ll look for museums of “farm life” or agriculture.” You might have no interest in farming, but the exhibits will be filled with handmade woodwork. I think you need to see handmade hayrakes and pig benches and dough bowls.
Finally, I’ll look for “house museums.” Sometimes the words “house museums” don’t call up what you want. These places might be called the “Aiken-Rhett House” or the “Nathanial Russell House” (two of my favorites in Charleston, S.C.). Sometimes these house museums are masquerading as a history museum or a museum about a person, such as the Harriet Beecher Stowe House in Cincinnati, Ohio. So when you look for <place name> plus “museum,” scan the list for museums that are the “Fancy Lord & Lass House.” They’ll have furniture. It might be fancy. But they probably also had servants. And their furniture can be quite compelling.
Craft Fairs & Craft Galleries
Most towns and cities have craft fairs and farmer’s markets on the weekends. There you will find woodworkers: carvers, turners and furniture makers. You might also find a blacksmith or two (for hinges, hooks and nails). Go to Germany during November and December, and you’ll find endless amounts of woodworking at each town’s Christmas market. And you’ll find woodworkers to talk to as well.
Antique Malls & Galleries
I love antique malls when I’m looking for tools and oddball furniture ideas. And I love antique galleries when I want to see expensive stuff (even if it is expensive vernacular stuff, like at Robert Young Antiques). Also, if you are going to Europe, look for “folk art” galleries or “art brut” galleries. Over there, “folk art” is not just “art,” it also encompasses furniture and decorative objects. And Europe has a ton of it.
Factories Old & New
I love visiting factories that make furniture, tools and almost anything else (paper, paint etc.). While visiting Holland, Michigan, a few years ago Lucy and I found a lot of old Arts & Crafts factories in the area. Plus the corporate headquarters for Herman Miller. What, they don’t offer tours on the website? Don’t be shy. It doesn’t hurt to walk in, be nice and ask if someone could give you a quick tour. (I’m always happy to give a warehouse tour to visitors who ask.)
A crazy selection at Keim.
Lumberyards & Mills
Another obvious one. If there are interesting lumberyards or mills in the area, I’m going to pay them a visit. And if it’s a mill or a kiln, I’m going to ask nicely for a quick peek or tour. Plus, I just love looking at wood. While at Keim Lumber in Millersburg, Ohio (Amish country), I spent an hour looking at their wood selection. They specialize in domestic species that other mills won’t cut, dry or sell. Have you ever seen Tree of Heaven for sale? They have it.
Silviculture & Forestry
If <place name> has trees or public forests, those are a great way to connect with an area. What sort of trees live here? (I use my “Picture This” app on my phone to explore the different species if they aren’t labeled). Botanical gardens can be awesome, or they can be all about flowers.
If you don’t like walking amongst the trees, you probably haven’t tried it.
Curiosity on the Ground
Most of all, talk to people while you’re at <place name>. Tell them you make furniture. Most people will be fascinated and helpful in your search for things relating to furniture, tools and wood.
I think that the internet is incredibly lacking when it comes to exploring the real world. A smile and an honest question can go a long way.
We have a limited run of handmade slipcases hand printed with the image of a honey bee (the symbol of workers everywhere). The slipcase comes with a copy of “The Woodworker’s Pocket Book” plus brass mounting hardware. And we are offering the two together at a special price.
This project began when Texas Heritage Woodworks was raising money to help build out the bathrooms in their new building. We bought 200 slipcases to help them (we have bathroom issues ourselves).
But what to do with all these slipcases?
Katherine Schwarz, our newest employee, hand carved a woodblock image of the honey bee. Then she applied the print to the slipcases with a linen-colored paint. Each print is unique, and many of the bees have their own personality as a result (I love the ones that have one big eye and one little eye).
We have only so many of these slipcases. So buy now to avoid disappointment.
The slipcase is designed to be hung on the lid of a tool chest or on the door of a tool cabinet – or wherever you might need to keep the pocket book handy.
After I dragged my butt off the plane to Munich with no sleep, Heiko Pulcher did me a huge favor. He plunked me into his Subaru wagon and drove me to the Das Holztechnische Museum Rosenheim (The Rosenheim Wood Technology Museum).
It’s a 1,200-square foot museum devoted to all aspects of woodworking, from chopping down the trees to the machinery involved in the processing and the finished product.
I’ve never in my life seen a museum that is so focused on the trade. There were scale models of sawmills (from Roman times to the present), machinery you could touch, scads of tools presented in context and lots of ideas about how you could make a living working with wood.
Bending runners for sleighs.
I could have spent all day at the museum (we only had a few hours there). There’s an entire display just on riving wood. Another on bending. A whole wall of handplanes and how they worked and what they were used for.
It’s not a tool museum (though they do have lots of tools). Instead, it’s a museum about work (which is way better).
If I had walked into the museum when it opened in 1983 at age 15, I think my life might have taken a turn much sooner. I grew up around furniture making. My grandfather and uncle did it for relaxation. My father did it for necessity. But no one told me you could do it for a living.
A scale model of an industrial sawmill.
The closest thing to the furniture making profession that I knew about was architecture (our house was filled with architecture and carpentry books).
The museum in Rosenheim presents a much clearer picture. And it shows how the technology has changed through the centuries. There’s an entire display about wooden airplane propellers (they are still manufactured in Rosenheim), plus another display on wooden skis and a third display on wooden pipes used for moving salt water (true, that’s not a job you can get today).
And if I’d been there at 15, I might have walked out of the museum, enrolled at TH Rosenheim and gone full German woodworker.
If you are ever in Bavaria, the museum is well worth a visit. Right now there is an excellent temporary exhibition on Western and Japanese joinery, with a fascinating film on Japanese temple building.
Glen Huey, a great furniture maker, teacher and (I hope) friend, died unexpectedly on June 27 after posting a short notice about an upcoming medical procedure on Facebook. You can read his full obituary here.
I first met Glen in the late 1990s as he and his father, Malcolm, launched their custom furniture business and were showing their pieces in shows across the country.
I was working at Popular Woodworking Magazine at the time, and we were looking for new authors who could help us build a world-class woodworking magazine. One of the other editors, David Thiel, met Glen at a furniture show and was impressed by his furniture, his friendliness and his willingness to teach others.
It was a great match.
In the following years, we published dozens of articles in the magazine by Glen (and sometimes Malcolm). Glen was both ambitious and a quick study. He went from being a contributor that we assisted with ghostwriting to a completely independent and entertaining writer. (This is no small feat.)
Eventually, we asked if he wanted to join the staff of the magazine, and he agreed. Glen brought his skills and ambitions to the staff of the magazine. It’s completely fair to say that he was one of the key reasons the magazine rose in quality and stature. He had outstanding taste in furniture design. He was a fast builder. And what he built always elicited oohs and aahs from people.
I’d be dishonest if I also didn’t say that this success wasn’t easy. Glen and I frequently clashed on the editorial direction of the magazine. He thought I was too focused on hand tools. I thought that writing about handwork made us special.
This friction is (I think) essential to a good magazine. You have to have lots of strong points of view among your editors. Otherwise your rag is going to read like Melba toast.
I thought that Glen and I had a good and respectful relationship (he was the first person I invited to my 40th birthday party). But I might be wrong.
One morning, Glen asked if we could talk in one of the magazine’s conference rooms. He told me he was quitting, and he was visibly angry. It was obvious that he was angry with me and my editorial philosophy.
I immediately offered to make him a contributing editor and to continue to publish his work. He seemed a bit disarmed by this. I think he was expecting a fight. But I knew the magazine needed him.
After I left Popular Woodworking in 2011, Glen rejoined the staff of the magazine. Everything devolved into chaos there soon after because of corporate stupidity. Glen and two other employees left to start their own online magazine. And we lost touch after that.
Despite my checkered past with Glen, I have nothing but respect for him and his work. He was generous with his time and knowledge. There were so many times that I had to prepare wood on a Friday for a Saturday class. And Glen volunteered to stay late to help, though it was of no benefit to him.
He was willing to teach anything to anyone. And though he had a quick temper (Rule No. 1: Never cut off Glen in traffic), he also was just as quick to forgive and laugh about it.
When it came to furniture making, Glen taught me more than I can ever repay. Glen used to say: “If you can’t do it on the table saw, it isn’t worth doing.”
He was joking. But the guy knew the table saw better than anyone else I’ve ever met. And by watching Glen and working with him, I have a confidence and capability on the table saw that makes my day-to-day life easier in the shop.
But Glen’s biggest asset as a furniture maker was his eye. He knew how to build pieces that would appeal to a wide swath of woodworkers. His taste was for vernacular pieces that were just a notch above. Many times he could take a simple design and use wood selection (the guy adored curly maple) to make it something unforgettable.
He also wrote some great books before leaving the craft. And if you like traditional American furniture, I think you should own these as well.
After Glen left the furniture trade, he opened a donut business north of Cincinnati called “The Donut Dude.” I always meant to drive up and check it out (Megan did). It’s a huge regret for me. If you have any unfinished business like this in your life, don’t put it off.
— Christopher Schwarz
I have a few things to add to Chris’s comments above – but I must first reiterate that Glen was a massive asset to Popular Woodworking, during both of his staff tenures and as a contributor. He was also incredibly important to my development as a woodworker, and as generous with his time and teaching as could possibly be.
I’m glad I didn’t go down the hand-tool rabbit hole right away; I’d have missed out learning from Glen how to make large pieces of cove moulding on the table saw, cabriole legs on the band saw and line-and-berry inlay. He gave up several nights and weekends when I (entirely out of my depth) asked his help in making a spice chest for my mother’s Christmas gift, and we laughed together the whole time.
He was quite the charmer, too. My aunt and grandparents adored him; they met a few times when Glen helped move some things from their houses to mine – he was always willing to lend a hand.
I was overjoyed when he came back to Popular Woodworking during my tenure as editor. It was such fun to have him back around – until we eventually also butted heads about the magazine’s direction. We didn’t then part under the best terms, I think it’s fair to say. Despite the tussles, though, I missed him.
Last year, I happened to be driving by his donut shop and decided to visit, having no idea how I’d be received. I should have known Glen had long ago let bygones be gone. I got a big smile and a hug. Of course.
