Editor’s note: When people ask why I write about woodworking, I usually answer: “It’s the only thing I’m qualified to do – besides washing dishes.” In truth, however, my unspoken goal is to nudge woodworkers to close their laptops or books and build something. Anything. One of the ways to inspire is to expose people to work or styles they haven’t seen before. While I like and respect the Shaker, Arts & Crafts and period styles, the world is a much bigger place.
Recently Suzanne Ellison, our indexer and a contributing editor, has been showing me a lot of work by Pierre Jeanneret (1896-1967), a Swiss architect, furniture designer and cousin to Le Corbusier. I’ve asked her to share some of that here. I know some snarky commenters are going to say it’s clunky or ugly. That’s not the point. There is something you can take away from each of these pieces. Some look dated. Some are brilliant.
You’ll understand Jeanneret’s work better (especially the Indian stuff) if you read this short bio at MoMA.
— Christopher Schwarz
If you are designing chairs for new modern buildings in a high heat and humidity environment you are going to use teak and there will be caned backs and seats for breathability. The chairs are for government offices and college classrooms so they have to be sturdy. Lastly, a high number are needed. Jeanneret came up with a basic design that could be adapted for various uses and that could be made with local materials. I like the chunky V-legs and arms balanced with the lightness of the woven back and seat. In profile the upside-down “V” with a line across the top almost looks like the Chinese character for human. My favorite is the Lounge Chair. I could live with it.
All the Chandigarh designs were done in the 1950s, as was the Scissor Chair for Knoll. It had a simple frame and came with cushions that snapped on. All of the chairs and stools made for the buildings in Chandigarh were teak and made in India. Chandigarh was the first planned city post-independence from Britain.
More pieces he designed for the buildings he and Le Corbusier designed in Chandigarh, India.
— Suzanne Ellison
My shop time is erratic. Sometimes I’m in the shop for 40 hours a week. Sometimes I get about four. So it’s hard for me to plan for hot hide glue. Sometimes assembly time comes much faster than I anticipated. Sometimes it’s weeks later than I planned.
So I use a lot of liquid hide glue, which doesn’t rely on overnight soaking or planning for how much I need for the coming day.
Recently Joshua Klein published a super-simple recipe for making your own liquid hide glue from glue granules, tap water and canning salt. It is so simple, that I am definitely going to make some myself, just as soon as I get home from this trip (one of the other reasons that using hot hide glue is tough).
Check out the great post here – and it has a printable recipe card you can tack to your shop wall.
— Christopher Schwarz
When you design a cabinet, chair or tool chest, it’s too easy to let the following words slip from your lips:
“I made it to fit my needs, my body, my tools. Like anything custom-made, it needs to suit the user exactly.”
To me, that’s a cop-out. When designers sketch out kitchen cabinets or bookshelves they don’t base the depth and height off the client’s books, dishes and glassware. There is a sweet spot for designing these pieces that can accommodate a wide variety of household objects and books.
The same rules are out there for chairs, tool cabinets, workbenches, dressers, chests and the like. Yes, you can make a cabinet that is designed to fit a specific shrunken monkey head you brought back from the rainforest. But if you open your eyes and do a little math you can design a cabinet that will suit any shrunken primate head from any continent.
The worst offender when it comes to over-customization is – in my opinion – chairs. I have sat in some awful custom chairs. Beautiful, yes. But after a few minutes of sitting it felt like the chair was trying to inseminate me. Or at least make me turn my head and cough.
As I start to squirm, the most common excuse from the owner is: The chair was not made for you. It was made for someone who is smaller/fatter/shaped differently/a giant praying mantis.
I call bunk. Good chairs, cabinets, tool chests, workbenches, stools, bookshelves or whatever should be able to serve a variety of masters. I don’t know, let’s say 90 percent of the people. Just about anyone can sit in one of Jennie Alexander’s chairs and say: “Wow. This is an amazing chair.” And that’s because Jennie paid close attention to both history and the human body. She did her research. She thought it through and didn’t settle for: this chair fits this person.
It takes a lot more design work and thought to find that sweet spot. But the result is a piece of furniture that will be coveted instead of kicked to the curb.
— Christopher Schwarz