Before I started writing woodworking books, I had a magazine reader ask me about my photography book. Photography book? What?
Yup. “Men Defined: Nudes,” which is still available at Amazon. That’s not my writing, I promise. If I were to write an erotic non-woodworking book it would be about goats.
It’s an odd experience to see your name on a book you didn’t write. And I had that same weird feeling when I saw “Classic American Furniture” by Christopher Schwarz advertised on ShopWoodworking.com.
My first thought: Hey, you other Christopher Schwarz. Stop invading my topic. I’ve carefully steered clear of writing about the erotic world of men in black and white.
As it turns out, I did write this book. Kinda sorta.
“Classic American Furniture” is a compilation of a lot of projects I built for the now-defunct Woodworking Magazine (yes, I miss it, too). In addition to my stuff, there also are a fair number of technique pieces and small projects from the other editors.
I finally got a copy of the book yesterday and spent some time paging through it. It’s actually a nice compilation of projects with a pared-back American aesthetic (and not a single nude person in sight). There’s Some Shaker and Arts & Crafts pieces, of course. But also some simple back-country pieces that are unadorned and nicely proportioned.
If you never saw Woodworking Magazine, this book is a good introduction to it and the approach we took to building and finishing pieces.
I receive no royalties from this book, FYI. And I’m not an affiliate with ShopWoodworking (or anyone). So I have no financial interest in it. Check it out here. It’s on sale for abou $20.
— Christopher Schwarz
In North America, we are too cavalier in using the word “master” to describe an artisan. Many times, it’s simply BS advertising copy when a publisher tries to puff up one of its authors: “Mr. Shinkle Gymnosperm is a master cabinetmaker.”
I think we can pretty much ignore that as over-heated hyperbole. But when I see a woodworker describe himself or herself as a “master carpenter,” “master turner” or “master carver” I have one reaction.
Show me your papers.
Today I stopped by Frieda’s Desserts to get some croissants after picking up a plank of hard maple. I’ve eaten at a lot of bakeries; Frieda’s is the best I’ve had in North America. It’s run by Armin Hack, a tremendous and friendly German baker. His “Meisterbrief” – or master’s certificate – hangs above the cash register for all to inspect.
He earned his certificate in konditoren-handwerk – confections – on 23 Jan. 1986.
As I said above, his pastry is amazing, but the paper does not make it so.
The term “master” in Germany and many other European countries means you have studied a curriculum for several years in both your craft and in business. You have passed a series of official state-sanctioned tests and are therefore permitted to set up shop and sell your wares. There are also obligations that come with the title – you must be willing to teach journeymen and apprentices what you know.
The certificate typically applies to an area of the craft that is quite narrow. For example, I have met many German joiners who know nothing about carving or turning. Those are other crafts. So applying the term “master woodworker,” to someone who has mastered all aspects of the craft is also a bit odd to my ears.
Plus in North America, the terms such as “apprentices,” “journeymen” and “master” never really had much weight here. While there were attempts to set up a formal European system here, they failed for the most part. There was simply too much work and not enough bodies.
We’re Americans. We don’t use those terms.
Yes, I know that some of our trade unions have a formal system that mimics the European system. They have titles. They also have coursework, a series of tests and – in the end – a piece of paper you receive that means something.
So the next time you see that term “master” before someone’s name or their trade, ask to see their “Meisterbrief.” It should be right above the cash register.
— Christopher Schwarz
Charleston, S.C., is my favorite city, and so it pains me that I’m not going to be able to attend the Lie-Nielsen Hand Tool Event there next month. My liver and cholesterol, however, are well-pleased by this unfortunate turn of events.
This year, the Lie-Nielsen staff has arranged a pre-show event to visit Drayton Hall, which offers a period rush like no other place I’ve been. It’s an 18th-century plantation that is unrestored. No modernization. No electricity. No horrible 1970s “reconstructions.”
I’ve been to Drayton many times (once during a hurricane), and never get tired of it as a woodworker. Every plaster and wooden detail has been left alone for you to discover, even the marks on a door frame that record the heights of the family’s children.
I wish I had more inspiring words other than: You need to see this. It will open your eyes to the 18th-century way of making things.
To add even more fun to the mix, Roy Underhill will be on hand during the tour to offer commentary and interpretation.
The special tour is 11 a.m. Thursday April 9. Call 1-800-327-2520 to reserve your place at $32 per person.
Then the whole crew will head to the American College of the Building Arts for a presentation by Roy Underhill and dinner at the Craftsman Tap House. In my mind, it’s a perfect day.
Oh, and there’s two more days of a Lie-Nielsen Hand Tool Event at the American College of the Building Arts on April 10-11. And it’s all in the most gorgeous city in the world with amazing food and great, great architecture.
Sigh.
Maybe next year.
Read more details on the Lie-Nielsen site here. And hoist a few beers for me at the Craftsman Tap House.
— Christopher Schwarz
