Category: Personal Favorites

We now sell our books in Canada with all the same benefits that U.S. customers receive – shipping is included in the price, and all books that I’ve written include a letterpress bookplate personally signed by me.

Canadian customers check out in our store just like U.S. customers. You’ll be charged in U.S. dollars on your credit card plus the Canadian goods and services tax (GST). Then your order will be mailed via Canada Post from Kingston, Ontario. Customers will not encounter duty charges or any other international transaction fees.

Our Canadian operation is run by Michael and John Sinclair, two brothers who run Swede Paint Enterprises. Swede Paint sells a number of remarkable products that I’ve been using since April with great success. Many of these products are solvent-free and extremely easy to use.

Though I’ll be writing more specifically about these products in the future, here are a couple that I have become totally enamored with:

Allback Organic Linseed Oil. This linseed oil does not contain metallic driers. It’s just flaxseed oil that has been treated with oxygen so it will dry readily. I’ve used this on five projects now and it is a pleasure to use. It smells a lot less than the stuff from the home center and dries quickly.

Linseed Oil Wax. This soft wax is made using organic linseed oil and beeswax. It has the consistency of a gel stain and makes an excellent topcoat over any finish. I’ve been using it over milk paint, shellac and even on raw wood. It goes on very easily and gives a little more lustre than the straight oil.

I’m eager to experiment with their varnish and their linseed oil paint, too.

We decided to work with Michael and John after meeting them personally in March. They have the same approach to treating their customers (and the planet) that we do. They deal in only high-quality stuff and treat their customers with great care. We highly recommend them (otherwise we wouldn’t have gotten into business with them).

So Canadians, please do check out our store and know that you are helping a family-run Canadian firm (and us!) to thrive.

— Christopher Schwarz

One of the long-term projects I’m involved with is a chronicle of modern toolmakers, which Konrad Sauer, Narayan Nayar and I are hoping to publish one day. While that chronicle is still off in the future, the first thing we did after hatching the idea was to arrange a meeting with Leonard Lee, the founder of Lee Valley Tools.

And so, in December 2014 the three of us traveled to Ottawa, where his son Robin Lee graciously arranged time for us to sit and speak with his father.

I don’t mean to tease anyone hungry – and you should be hungry – to hear about the history and stories we recorded that day. I do want to explain, though, why I was so moved today to hear that a man I’d met only briefly, in the twilight of his life, had passed from this mortal coil.

And I was moved.

I do not think I’m easily impressed, or overly free with my admiration. But while Mr. Lee had earned my admiration long before I met him, it increased exponentially after a few hours in a room with him.

I found him inspiring (and I do not use that word lightly – if ever) not just for his accomplishments and his legacy – impressive though both are. What I was most struck by was his way of being – even as his mental and physical health were showing concessions to age.

He was obviously, and visibly, quite proud of his company and his family. But somehow he exuded that pride while at the same time was absolutely and unceremoniously humble about both – as though he’d simply been the man who was standing in the right place when the doors to the treasure chamber happened to open up.

In an era when it seems everyone yearns for celebrity and attention for mundane reasons, he seemed unconcerned with credit or attention. He was proud of Lee Valley, but not proud for it. And that distinction, it seems, is in short supply these days.

Every Lee Valley employee, every Lee family member and friend that we met were universal in their absolute respect and affection for Mr. Lee. Every one of them referred to him as “Mr.” Lee, and on every person’s lips that title seemed to convey an almost sacred respect.

Mr. Lee left behind a company, a family – a legacy – that is noteworthy, impressive and historic. But more than that, he left behind an indelible and obvious trail of influence on the people he interacted with – even if they met him only for a brief time, and even if (like me) they tend too much toward cynicism and disdain for much of humanity.

The Lee family – and the Lee Valley family – both have my most sincere and heartfelt condolences on their loss.

— Raney Nelson  

If you’ve been following my work for more than a few weeks then you might have winced a bit when you saw the image at the top of this blog entry.

The curly oak figure in the chest is a bit of a departure for me. For the last 20 years I’ve sought out boards that have a mellow, understated grain. This has always been intentional. Loud woods can obscure a good form or – put another way – attract unwanted attention away from a weak form.

For me, the form of a piece is what I like (or dislike) the most. Incidentally, that’s why I like paint. Nothing strips away the bread and circuses of fiddleback hoo-ha like a democratic coat of pigment.

So what the heck is going on in the above photo? Short answer: I don’t believe in free will.

Longer answer: I’ve had this chest design in my sketchbook for many months and decided in May to release itself on its own recognizance. My initial plan was to build it in white maple or Baltic birch. But while buying some oak at Frank Miller Lumber in Union City, Ind., there were four boards of curly quartersawn white oak sitting in the middle of the warehouse.

I put my measuring tape on them and realized that there was exactly enough to make my chest design. The price was ridiculously cheap. I had the money.

The oak is outrageous, and so I did what I could to turn down its visual volume. Usually you’ll read articles about how to accentuate curled woods with an undercoat of linseed oil or dye. I did neither of these things. In fact, I muted the curl by using a super blond shellac instead of my typical favorite, garnet.

Even so, I was worried about the curl obscuring the piece’s form.

I’m not quite done with the finishing process. I still need to rub out the shellac and add a coat of a linseed oil/wax that I’ve become quite fond of (more on that later). That should tone down the gloss of the shellac and I’ll end up where the figure and the form are in balance.

— Christopher Schwarz

When John and I started this company in 2007, we each contributed about $1,500 to build our website and purchase the first press run of “The Art of Joinery.”

So when it came to designing a logo, we had exactly $0.00. I ginned up a placeholder logo using the Caslon Antique typeface and we launched our business with that. But as soon as we made some money, we planned to get a real professional logo.

During the last nine years we tried a couple times to get a logo designed, but the project was cursed (like our poster business). Both designers either flaked or were swallowed by a hole in the Earth. So we trudged on with our DIY logo.

This spring we vowed to make a third attempt. I hired Tom Lane, a designer in Liverpool, who I’d been following on Dribble for some time. He specializes in hand-drawn logos, and his aesthetic matched what I was looking for.

The curse had finally been lifted (thanks Marta Madden).

Tom drew a bunch of logos in pencil. He narrowed it down to three solid choices and we began refining things during the last two weeks. And today, it’s done.

I’ve been in the publishing business long enough to know that some of you (all of you?) might prefer the old logo. That’s cool, but this is our logo. We’re happy we got to support an independent designer, promote some handwork and get the logo that I wish we’d had in 2007.

— Christopher Schwarz