This week we launched two new substacks that you might want to check out.
Never Sponsored For the last 28 years I have been neck-deep in the world of woodworking tools. First as a user and reviewer of tools for Popular Woodworking Magazine. Then as a designer, maker and user of them for Crucible.
But most of all I have been an observer. I’ve watched toolmaking rise and fall and rise again during my lifetime. And I want to make sure that you – the person who buys and uses tools – has a good set of tools with only a few regrettable purchases.
“Never Sponsored” is an extension of my 2011 book “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest.” In that book I urge woodworkers to own but a basic set of tools, but to buy the best.
But what are the best tools? And which are the worst?
Our first post on “Never Sponsored” is about alternatives to Starrett gear.
“Never Sponsored” is the answer to those questions. Every Wednesday, Megan Fitzpatrick (also a long-time tool user) and I will post a review of a tool (or class of tools) on the substack. Lots of people do something similar. Here is how we are different.
We have never taken money from tool manufacturers. We don’t do affiliate programs or sponsorships or anything where tool money flows to the people who write about tools. And we never will.
So we can afford to tell you the truth (as we see it). Yes, we have biases and opinions. But they are earned with our own money, and they are earned in a working shop.
You can read our first post here. “Never Sponsored” will be free for the first two months. Then it will have a paywall. Most posts will be behind the paywall, but there will always be some free entries. So it’s worth getting a free subscription. “Never Sponsored” is $5 a month or $50 a year.
The Anarchist’s Apprentice Earlier this year we hired Kale Vogt as an assistant editor at Lost Art Press. Kale spends half their time at our warehouse fulfilling your orders and the other half at our workshop on Willard Street, learning to become a furniture maker.
Every Thursday we post a journal entry written by Kale, Megan or me about the process. We’ve been journaling about Kale’s training since the first day it started. We don’t exactly know where it is headed. Kale is remarkably talented with an eye for detail. Megan and I have lots to teach. It sounds a bit like a reality television show, and it really is that (but without the hair-pulling).
If you have ever wondered what a modern apprenticeship might be like, this is a peek at the process. So far it has been both messy and joyful. Kale is a wonderful addition to our staff. I hope we don’t ruin things.
Like “Never Sponsored,” this substack will be free for two months. After that it will feature both free posts and paid posts for subscribers. Our first post is here.
The American Peasant And don’t forget my substack, “The American Peasant.” During the last 18 months I have posted 244 entries that have pushed at the limits of language and thought in woodworking journalism. I’ve also posted nearly all of my next book, “The American Peasant,” there for you to read in its almost-finished form.
Please note that my substack is PG-13. If you are easily offended, may I suggest this instead?
Finally Please don’t think that we are abandoning this blog here at Lost Art Press. We’re not. Instead, we’re growing. For most of LAP’s 17-year history, we’ve had zero employees. Now there are six of us. We all have things to say and different points of view. These new substacks allow us to share what we know (and what we don’t). This blog is still the foundation and is how we communicate to our customers and friends around the world.
On the left are shades of blue (surprise!) from Heron Linseed Oil Paint. Stacked in the center are two shades from Allbäck Paint. The small bottle is “blown” linseed oil from Heron; the large bottle is “purified” linseed oil from Heron. At back is the naughty stuff: odorless mineral spirits.
Chris and I have been experimenting with linseed oil paint for about a year now, since he started working on his next book, “The American Peasant,” and we’ve both painted a lot of wooden stuff with it – from large flat surfaces on chests to fiddly roundish bits on stick chairs to decorative curves and pointy things. We’ve used it on ring-porous woods including oak, ash and elm (looks great; it is a pain in the posterior, like all paints on ring-porous woods) and closed-pore woods such as poplar, linden and white pine (looks great, easy to apply). We have not used it on other material, but I’ve read that it will stick to many other building materials (plaster, metal, masonry and more). I’ve even read claims that it will stick to anything. But I know for a fact only that it sticks to wood (and fabric).
What we have not done is tried every color, brand or brush available. And, all of the stuff we’ve painted is indoor stuff. We have no personal experience with this paint on exterior work…though I am hoping to have some in the near future, if I can find someone to use it on my house for less than the going rate for a kidney*.
A hand detail of a red oak stick chair with one brushed coat (plus a few touch-ups) of Allbäck Linseed Oil Paint in Holkham Green.
This is what we know, thus far.
Most linseed oil paint is made from raw linseed oil and ground natural pigments – no added binders, driers, solvent or synthetic emulsifiers – so it’s far more environmentally friendly than most hardware store paints. (Milk paint is also environmentally friendly – my hardware store doesn’t carry it or linseed oil paint.)
Linseed oil paint is more expensive than latex, acrylic or milk paint (the other paints we know well). However, it takes fewer coats for full coverage – so penny for penny, it ends up not so expensive after all (plus it takes less of your active time – and no sanding! – if you’re including the human factor in your price calculations). Depending on the wood, we have found that it takes one coat (closed-pore woods) or one coat plus a touch-up here and there (ring-porous woods) for coverage that fully colors the surface and allows the grain to show through (which is what we want). Neither of us has had to apply two full coats to achieve our desired coverage – though if you want to cover the grain a second coat will do it, in our experience. (The hanging cupboard that is now the Anthe bathroom cupboard has two full coats of paint only because Chris decided he didn’t like the green of the first coat on that project, so it’s topped with one coat of blue – and on that piece, the grain no longer shows through. NB: He likes the green, just not on that project. He’s a mystery.)
Spell carvings in linden, that were painted (with a 4″ shed-resistant woven 1/4″ nap roller) with Allbäck Linseed Oil Paint in Old Blue.
Linseed oil paint is a lot thicker than any other paint we use, and with a good (or at least decent brush), a lot will remain in the bristles, and you should “draw it out” quite a ways from the initial strokes. That is, deposit the paint from the brush onto the project, and make long strokes, pulling the paint with as you go, then go back to the original deposit of paint and draw it out again, overlapping the first stroke. I don’t have to dip the brush back in the paint as often as I do with latex, acrylic or milk paint. But because of its low viscosity, you might find the linseed oil paint more difficult to use at first – or at least different than what you’re used to. Be sure to draw it out a lot and not leave it too thick, or it will drip and/or sag as it dries (and take longer than it ought to dry). It’s kind of like spreading a crumb coat on a cake – you want full coverage, but nothing extra.
Some instructions say to wipe on a coat of washed linseed oil and let it dry before painting, others say to use the paint on bare wood. We’ve done both, and both have worked for us. For what it’s worth, I am now a convert to a base coat of linseed oil. It makes it easier to draw out the paint (much like a second coat of most brushed finishes are easier to apply than the first coat).
At left are very nice brushes given to me by Mattias Hallin, made by Gnesta Penseln. The ones on the right are more readily available: Wooster “Yachtsman.” Both kinds have natural-bristle brushes.
I’ve tried out a number of brushes, and Mattias Hallin, a long-time user of linseed oil paint, says his favorite are the Gnesta Penselns shown above. Hardware store brushes that are decent are the Wooster Yachtsmans. I think you can see from the picture, though, that the brushes on the left will hold a heavier paint load. However…then you have to clean them; they’re too nice to toss. (More on that at the bottom.) Travis at Heron paint recommended to me Escoda Natural Chungking Bristle Brushes, but I’ve not yet tried them (also too expensive to not wash!).
Most of the instructions I’ve read say to use the paint as it comes…but we’re good at disobeying. To make it a little easier to draw out and to make it lay out better with less effort – that is, dry without brush marks (without having to “tip off”) – we sometimes add about 10 percent low-odor mineral spirits and mix it (yes…this makes it less environmentally friendly – and I would not dilute it for exterior work). I cannot stress enough to mix it well…whether or not you add mineral spirits (or turpentine, which the owner of Heron Paint said he uses when he needs to thin the paint a bit). The pigment settles fairly quickly, and you want it to be evenly suspended in the mixture. So, I have made friends with every hardware and paint store between my house and the shop; they are kind enough to shake up the paint as needed in their fancy paint shaker machines. I try not to abuse the privilege…which is why I spread my mixing asks among four locations. (I want a fancy paint shaker machine for our shop – preferably the old kind that clamps top and bottom, and runs the risk of spraying paint everywhere should the top come off the can. The newfangled fully contained ones are no fun – not enough risk. Plus they’re a lot more expensive.)
The poplar top of this stool is painted with one coat in a custom shade of full-test linseed oil paint from Heron Paints. I shook this can by hand, since I was confident it hadn’t been sitting on a shelf for weeks/months/years.
Linseed oil paint takes a lot longer to dry than any other paint we use. So while it takes only one coat, or one coat and some spot touch-ups (either while the first coat is still wet enough to easily work, or after it’s completely dry), it will be dry to the touch after about 24 hours at average room temperature and low to mild humidity – and even then, there will still be some areas where it might have been applied a little too thickly that will transfer to the white shirt you shouldn’t have worn while leaning up against it. We have found it takes two or three days to completely dry (longer in cold and/or humid conditions) to the point where it’s “carveable” without making a small mess (in case you, too, are covering your work in spells). If you have curious pets or curious kids, keep them away from the work for a while. And you do need to be mindful of kicking up dust around a freshly painted piece for 24 or so hours, as it can stick to the wet paint. You can speed up the drying by exposing the work to UV light – but do not put it in direct sunlight to dry (that resulted in a pimply surface when we tried it). Update: This might be due to the thinner; the full-strength stuff dries just fine in the sun, I’m told by several log-time users.
Here, I’m painting an elm coat rack in a custom shade of linseed oil paint from Heron Paints (a close match to Benjamin Moore 2060-30). First, I wiped on a coat of washed linseed oil (as recommended by the paint maker) and let it dry overnight. I then poured some of the paint into a Mason jar, added a splash of low-odor mineral spirits and shook it up by hand for maybe 10 minutes. It was easier to brush than the non-diluted paint I used on the stool, but the color is not as saturated on the surface (that is, more of the wood is showing through, and it will need a touch up in a few places. But also, elm is a ring-porous wood, and doesn’t take paint as well as the poplar. So there are a lot of variables going on. Whatever. We’re happy with the way it looks, and that’s the goal.
About the “easily work” I mentioned above: I’ve found I have about two hours in which I can manipulate the fresh paint and still have it lay out flat as it dries. Any longer, and it’s already dry enough that the brush marks remain where I’ve gone back and retouched an area.
Here, Wally is showing the contrast between velvety black and Allbäck Linseed Oil Paint in Antique Gold (Chris carved through it after it was dry). I added a topcoat of washed linseed oil, which added a little depth to the sheen, and added a bit of protection to the carved (and thus de-painted) areas.
More coats of paint will make the finished item shinier – so if you like shiny (we prefer no more than a soft sheen), consider more than one coat. After the piece is completely dry, you can add a topcoat to adjust the sheen a bit to your liking, and to blend areas where the paint looks more flat and/or more shiny (which I think might be a result of adding mineral spirits…though I haven’t yet done enough “experiments” to back up that statement). We use soft wax or simply a coat of washed linseed oil.
Allbäck Linseed Oil Paint in Old Red (with spells added afterward, obviously), with a topcoat of purified linseed oil.
So what is this “washed” or “refined” or “purified” linseed oil? It’s a purified version of raw linseed oil, and all we know for sure is that it is lighter in weight, lighter in color (and so results in less yellowing) and dries faster than plain ol’ raw linseed oil. There is also “blown” linseed oil, which is another method of purification that involves air, and is even lighter in weight and dries faster still. We hope to have expert information on these processes in the future, and more experience with the various purified/cleaned/washed/blown/magically delicious versions of the stuff. But for now, we can tell you that “purified” dries faster and yellows less.
What about cleanup? Well…here’s where my argument for using this paint falls apart (a little bit). Linseed oil soap is what everyone says to use for cleanup. And it works. But it does not work quickly or easily. I cleaned one brush and it took three intense rounds of soaping, combing and rinsing…and I still wouldn’t call that brush perfectly clean. I’ve read that the easy solution is to simply suspend the brush in linseed oil, and it remains at the ready for the next use! OK…but the number of blues I have alone…I don’t have room for suspending five brushes, and I have cats. So I use the relatively cheap Yachtsman brushes, and throw them away. (Yes, in this I am a bad person.) And because it’s linseed oil, I let the brush dry hard before putting it in the trash (ditto on any rags I’ve used).
So when would I use linseed oil paint vs. acrylic (faux milk paint) vs. actual milk paint? Well, they all result in different looks, so that’s my first consideration.
Linseed oil paint gives it an old-world look, and, after a topcoat of oil, has a low sheen that I like. And it “feels” like the right choice for any project of Scandinavian or Eastern European origin (but that’s probably because we started using it on American Peasant projects). I have yet to try it on a tool chest – and won’t offer it for commission chest builds until I’ve road-tested it (which I will do soon). Plus it’s harder to clean up afterward…so I have to be a lot more careful when using it than I do with “milk paint” or milk paint. That would be factored into the finishing cost (along with the one-use paint brush). But I’d use it on a personal project for which I had ample dry time during which I could keep any cats away (two scenarios that almost never coincide!).
General Finishes “Milk Paint” is my long-time favorite for ease of use, price and cleanup. It dries with an almost-flat finish, cleans up with water, goes on easily, lays out nicely, dries quickly and typically takes two coats. And because it dries quickly, I can recoat late in the day if my first coat was early that morning. Plus it needs no topcoat – so two coats and done, then easy cleanup. I can apply it with a cheap chip brush and toss it, or use then easily clean one of my long-beloved Purdys. (Sherwin-Williams bought Purdy in 2004 – I don’t remember exactly when the brushes changed, but change they did. I haven’t liked any I’ve bought since.) However, last year, General Finishes severely curtailed the color choices, and got rid of my two favorites, Twilight and Blue Moon. (Yes, I know I sound like the old fart that I am.) And no local paint store carries it – so I’d have to buy it one place, then pay another for the privilege of mixing it to a custom color. Boo. (And that’s high on the reasons why I’m planning a road test soon on the linseed oil paint.)
Actual milk paint is a lot of fun to use. But it’s also a bit of fuss. It takes many coats, and while it dries quickly and cleans up easily, it doesn’t always behave as I might expect, and each color I’ve used performs a bit differently. So, there are a lot of test boards and a lot of time involved in getting a good finish (for me) from milk paint. (Peter Galbert and Travis Curtis both produce gorgeous milk paint finishes – and I think they would agree that it’s not a fast process…even when you use it all the time!) Plus most people prefer it with a topcoat (though I love the dead-flat look it imparts), and that can’t be done until the paint is fully cured – and the more layers there are, the longer that takes (after a few bad experiences, I don’t even think about a topcoat until a week has passed after my final paint coat). But there are a lot of gorgeous colors available, and I love the variegated look I can achieve with it. (Plus, kids can chew on it safely. Not that I encourage such behavior.)
And that’s all the topics I can think of for which have answers…but I expect we’ll have more info to come.
Happy painting!
– Fitz
*A bourbon-loving-person-of-Irish-heritage kidney – so, not worth a paint job.
The same stool from above, now with a coat of linseed oil on top of both the painted and unpainted surfaces. Olivia looks good there.
All my books sold through Lost Art Press will be signed by me.
All my books that you buy through Lost Art Press will be signed by me through 2024.
It takes a few hours of my time each week, but we are thrilled we can offer this small personal touch now that we have our fulfillment center up and running in Covington, Kentucky.
We also will offer the PG-13 “Sharpen This” sticker when you buy “Sharpen This.” (Our bestselling product of 2023.
This personal-touch stuff is what we have always wanted to offer our customers, but we were hobbled by our efficient but inflexible fulfillment center in Indianapolis.
More personal stuff on the way (no, you won’t be able to buy my underwear).
— Christopher Schwarz
All copies of “Sharpen This” come signed by the author and with this free sticker.
The engraving cutter sitting on a newly cut spell.
We have Crucible Engraving Tools back in stock and shipping. This tool engraves straight lines and arcs in wood so you can create decorative patterns or “spells” found on peasant furniture in Scandinavia and Eastern Europe.
Megan and I have filmed a new video on the basics of using the tool against a straightedge and in a compass. The new video is below. You can watch an earlier video of how to sharpen the tool here.
Our engraving tools are made entirely in the United States and were developed to create a simple and affordable way for you to try them out. The tool is $27 and includes a specially machined handle (that can be held like a pencil or installed in a pencil compass), plus two cutters and instructions.
Right now, the tools are available only in the U.S. and through us. We have some international retailers interested in them, but whether or not they carry them is their choice.
I developed these tools to help with my next book, “The American Peasant.” Right now the book is an ever-evolving substack (check it out here. Warning: my substack is not for kids). I am working on the book almost every day, and it looks like it will be complete in early 2024.
For now, I think you’ll enjoy trying the engraving tools – they are easy to sharpen and use.
You probably know that I have another blog (but I promise I am not cheating on you). This one is called a “substack” and is titled “The American Peasant.” It’s about my efforts at writing my next book, but it is also a place where I shank the crap we are force fed. And I use bad words.
On Friday, the substack reached 10,000 total subscribers. Is that good? Don’t know. Plus we have almost 2,000 paid subscribers (I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you these numbers, but oh well).
So I did a thing that is probably not economically wise. I took the 10 most popular posts that I wrote for paid subscribers and made them free. So you can now check in on what the heck I’m doing at substack, which I keep misspelling as “substache.”
If anything, here’s some questionable Sunday-morning reading to go with your coffee. If you want to subscribe, click here (they make me type that). About one-third of the posts are free, with the rest behind a paywall. I’ve also included one juicy/warning blurb from each entry.
Perfection Can Suck It. “You don’t need me to tell you that a good portion of the woodworking you see on the internet is bullshit. One-hundred percent certified Grade-A Extruded Garden Gnome Meat.”
The Price of a Chair & a Life. “How do you thank someone who saves your life? I thought about it for a long time, and I cannot think of anything else I make that is more personal than a chair. It is a reflection of the human body, and it has parts with many of the same names: feet, legs, seat, arms, hands and back.”
Why Would Anyone Write a Book? “But finally, I discovered why I keep writing books. The reason is this: I’d write them even if they never got published. I’d buy a used mimeograph machine, and after getting stupidly high on the blue ink, I’d print out a few copies and hawk them at the local woodworking club. I’d secretly press them into the hands of woodworkers perusing the sharpening section at Woodcraft.”
The Jig Economy is a Scam. “I carry the skills and knowledge wherever I want to go without packing a container full of wacky jigs and micrometers and spring-loaded marfy-garts. And I have a lot more money in my pocket for beer and schnitzel that didn’t go to the Anodized Aluminum and Star Knob Guys.”
A Reverence for <Bleep>. “You could be the next <insert woodworking celebrity here>,” they said, “if you would just show real reverence for the craft. You know, respect for its traditions and history.” “You mean, I should stop making jokes about farts and open sores?” I replied.
The Spell is Complete. “I thought I was going to cry a bit. But then I hiccupped and peed my pants instead.”
Write Stressed; Edit Naked. “I promise that none of this stuff will be revealed to you when you are in your underwear in a motel room in South Dakota – trying to just write shit down. There you’ll find only water stains in the bathroom that look like Jesus and weird deer freezers filled with alien vegetables.”
What’s a Modern Peasant to do? “On the drive back to Kentucky I ran the numbers in my head. Rural land in Kentucky is about $8,000 an acre. I’d probably need about five to 10 acres to do this project right. The cost of the timber-frame structure plus some improvements would be another $8,000. I’d need a second similar structure to sleep and cook in. “Yes, I thought, I could afford this.”
The Religion is Nature; The Philosophy is Geometry. “Dude, it’s all woodworking, and it’s all awesome. If you make stuff from wood with your feet or with a laser, you are solid in my book. All the tools and ways of working are valid as long as you aren’t feeding small children into the hopper of your meat-powered scratch awl.”
