If you haven’t bought a Tooley Park scriber, this is the week to do it. This little tool is handy for marking chair and table legs for final trimming, plus scribing cabinets and countertops to irregular walls. And it’s on sale for 20 percent off until Feb. 8.
The sale applies only to the scribers (not the accessories). The scriber I use is the original Fat Boy (FB) scriber in black. It’s available in five other colors.
It’s a well-made tool that works elegantly and is built in the UK by a furniture maker. Highly recommended.
Peter Galbert just released a new 8-hour video on making his Temple Chair (from either green or kiln-dried wood). Along with his expert instruction – and Peter is one of the best teachers I’ve ever encountered – you’ll get a handbook, as well as full-sized pdf plans drawn by Jeff Lefkowitz.
With the finishing complete, the appearance of wear is believable along the seat, sticks and comb.
The following is excerpted from John Porritt’s “The Belligerent Finisher.” This shows the first two steps (surface preparation and adding color) before he goes on to burnish, stain, paint, shellac, oil, dent, wax, and add the finishing touches. It sounds overwhelming but the process is such an incredible transformation that you can’t help but to want to give it a try.
Porritt, who works from a small red barn in upstate New York, has been at his trade for many decades, and his eye for color and patina is outstanding. We’ve seen many examples of his work, and it is impressive because you cannot tell that any repair or restoration has been done.
His techniques are simple and use (mostly) everyday objects and chemicals – a pot scrubber, a deer antler, vinegar and tea. How you apply these tools – with a wee bit of belligerence – is what’s important.
The book is lavishly illustrated with color photos that clearly explain the process. With the help of this book, you’ll be able to fool at least some of the people some of the time with your own “aged” finishes.
While similar to its cousin behind it, this chair features a square-cornered seat and a backrest that is straight. Soon, many of these crisp lines will be eased by burnishing.
This second side chair is made of oak. The seat is white oak and the rest of its parts are red oak. Because I built this chair using American species, the grain is quite straight and regular. With Welsh stick chairs and other vernacular forms, the wood is often quite gnarly. So my goal with this chair is to add quite a bit of texture to make the chair more interesting.
To help the chair look more like an old survivor, I used young, small-diameter trees. These were available to me after the workers came through. Now they’re all using wood chippers, which is most unfortunate – certainly for me. The grain of these small trees has more character than large-diameter trees with long-straight trunks.
In addition to the texture, I want the chair to have a nice chestnut brown color to the wood that looks like it has been covered in green paint – a common color on old chairs. In the areas where the sitter would rub against the seat, the green paint will be worn through. Plus, like all chairs that have had a long and interesting life, this chair will have lots of burnished surfaces.
Just like with the first chair, this chair was finished straight from the tools – no sandpaper. Plus the tenons and any pegs have been left a little proud, which makes them easy to burnish.
Give the piece a good soaking with water to raise the grain and soften the wood a bit.
Surface Preparation. I begin this process by giving the chair a good soaking with water, which will raise the grain and soften it. I immediately follow that with the nylon brush, which is chucked into an electric drill. This is the first step to adding texture, as the nylon bristles wear away some of the softer earlywood in the oak.
You could probably get the same effect with a wire brush. As you go over your chair, spend more time brushing the areas that would contact the sitter, including the seat, sticks, backrest and the leg ends.
The nylon brush adds texture to the piece by gently wearing away some of the softer earlywood. Focus your efforts on the areas that contact the sitter.
It may seem strange to hear about using the nylon wheel brush to take out the soft earlywood and then burnish it to get a surface skin. The thing with old surfaces is they have undulations. Sometimes these are like a fine ripple, a movement to the surface where the wood has shrunk, expanded with moisture, or been abraded by time so that there are ridges and troughs. It’s not a surface straight from a cutting tool, so the brush action gets movement intothe wood and the burnishing pulls it over to consolidate it. A good, used, worn surface that reflects light in an uneven fashion.
Sample sticks are a roadmap for your finishing process and show you how the different colors and chemicals will interact. It can be helpful to label each sample.
Add Color. Before I start adding color to a piece, I’ll make sample sticks using scraps from the project itself. This prevents unwanted surprises.
The first coloring step requires us to first add tannin to the wood. Then we’ll add a solution made with vinegar and steel wool, which reacts with the tannins to give a nice, aged color to the wood.
Add tannins to the wood by brushing on a solution of black tea mixed with household ammonia.
To make the tannic solution, first make a batch of strong, black tea that you steep overnight (do not add milk or sugar). With the tea at room temperature, add some household ammonia – the final mixture should be about 10 percent ammonia and 90 percent tea. (Use ammonia without added soap.)
The ammonia seems to help drive the tannins into the wood.
Once the mixture is applied, I follow that by going over all the surfaces with a heat gun. The heat gun raises the grain and speeds the process along. If you aren’t in a hurry, you can let the tea flash off on its own.
The vinegar and iron solution should turn the wood a blackish color. If no color appears – or it is weak – use a stronger solution.
Now it’s time to add the color. The solution is made by dissolving a pad of oil-free steel wool in a jar of household white vinegar. I make mine in a large lidded jar. It usually takes three days to a week for the metal to dissolve. I also like to make batches in different strengths. You can make a stronger color by adding more steel wool to the solution.
I brush the solution on with a chip brush. If the wood does not quickly turn a brown/black, you should use a stronger solution. Set the chair aside and allow the solution to dry.
The islands in this garden, though small, punch above their weight in visual impact.
This is an excerpt from our newest book “Good Eye” by Jim Tolpin and George Walker.
Symmetry has the ability to lead the eye to a focal point. Artisans have understood and exploited this across the globe.
Like their counterparts in the West, traditional artisans in China, Korea and Japan understood symmetry and used it extensively in their designs. By symmetry, we mean creating designs that display a mirror image both left and right. Symmetry is found throughout nature and universally admired in the beauty of a human face.
Examples abound from the East of architecture and furniture that employed symmetry to lead the eye and create a harmonious aesthetic. This common mastery of symmetry perhaps contributed to the European embrace of furniture designs from China in the 18th century.
Yet, there was something quite different developing in design from Japan: the use of asymmetry. One of the best ways to understand it is to think about the sand gardens that are sometimes called Zen gardens. The carefully raked sand is a small ocean, and off to one end an island of rock juts up from the waves. It’s a visual surprise by which our eyes cannot help but be captivated.
Asymmetry employed in this fashion imparts a sense of surprise and wonder. It can give a design a lift in an unexpected place, sort of like cruising along a smooth highway and driving over a bump. Not a bump that jars the suspension but enough to awaken your senses. Japanese furniture makers employed asymmetry along two different paths – simple and complex asymmetry. Simple asymmetry is uniform, like that sand ocean in the garden, with one element of surprise sprouting up to complement the design. Consider a simple chest of drawers, with a bank of drawers laid out in a regular symmetrical pattern, with one unexpected asymmetrical drawer or door to add a bit of the unexpected.
The small asymmetrical door at the bottom of this chest breaks up what might be a monotonous composition.
Let’s take a look at a traditional tansu chest that employs this use of asymmetry. One of the hallmarks of this type of asymmetry is how powerfully it captures the eye immediately. When you look at the piece at top right (above), did you find your eye pulled to that small asymmetrical door in the lower corner?
Let’s take a look at what lies beneath this traditional tansu chest of drawers.
Simple Asymmetry – Form
The governing form is a square that sits inside the sides, top and base at the bottom of the case. The drawer configuration actually tricks the eye and it’s not apparent that this is built around a simple square.
Simple Asymmetry – Define
The artisan divided the height of the square into three equal parts, and that bottom part gives us the module and also the height of the bottom drawer. They used that module to divide up the two bottom drawers into a pattern of proportional asymmetry. The width of the longer bottom drawer (two parts), along with the width of the small door (one part) is the asymmetrical spark in the design.
Simple Asymmetry – Refine
The height of the base uses the height of three of the horizontal dividers, stepped off to size the heavier base at the bottom. The heights of the top three drawers occupy the top two parts of our square form. These drawers are graduated. We cover this method for adjusting drawer height in more detail in chapter 7.
Contemporary Design Inspired by Simple Asymmetry
This simple use of asymmetry has several lessons for the contemporary builder. First, we can take a symmetrical design and add a bit of delight by introducing one small element of asymmetry. This small element can stand out due to its unusual size. But it can also stand out with a variety of visual treatments that captivate the eye. That asymmetrical drawer or door could also be an open space instead of closed. Or the door or drawer face could be a different kind of wood. The overall case and drawers might be made entirely of cherry, and one asymmetrical drawer might be made of maple. The asymmetrical element could also display a different texture. Finally, and possibly the most captivating visually, is to employ something like that island jutting up in the midst of our sand sea. By that we mean employing a design with a uniform background and inserting an unexpected island.
At right (below) is a mirror frame with a small shelf to hold keys and other small items in a foyer or entryway. The frame is a “floater,” which means the mirror is centered inside the frame with a gap, so a dark shadowline surrounds the mirror itself. The small asymmetric drawer could be a different wood or have a different texture than the adjacent open space.
Other than the mirror itself, the eye is drawn to the small drawer in the corner.
Complex Asymmetry
The second way these artisans employed asymmetry is more complex. By that we mean that they used asymmetry to drive the entire design. This use of asymmetry is not so much to display a subtle surprise. Instead, it’s used to give a design a distinct look or personality. Let’s look at a complex asymmetrical design, a stair-step tansu chest.
When you first look at the chest at right (below), what do you see? Is it the stair steps that rise up? Can you see how the different elements in the design vary in both height and width? This is how this use of asymmetry is so captivating visually.
When we look at this design, there are a few elements that are a mirror image, but taken as a whole, this is not a design governed by symmetry. Oddly enough, the square drawer on the top and its mirror image on the bottom are separated diagonally from each other at the extreme ends of the design. If you look closely at the proportions and the diagonal lines in Jim’s deconstruction, it’s clear that this was designed around simple proportions and geometry. Yet, it’s a collection of dissimilar elements assembled together with its own unique personality.
This stairstep tansu chest takes asymmetry to another level. Yet it still has symmetrical elements woven within.
Complex Asymmetry – Form
Similar to the earlier chest, this one is built around a square – but it is not obvious due to the overall stairstep configuration that grabs the viewer’s attention. The overall height from the bottom of the lower drawers to the top of the case is divided into four parts to establish the module.
Interesting to note: When simple wholenumber proportions are used to lay out a design as in this deconstruction of the tansu chest, diagonal lines usually intersect important boundaries.
Complex Asymmetry – Define
All the major elements of the design are either fractions or multiples of our module. The lower drawers are one-half module in height. One-fifth a module defines the width of the dividers, two-fifths gives the height of the base. Module segments define the steps rise and run.
Contemporary Design Inspired by Complex Asymmetry
Complex use of asymmetry also has some lessons for the contemporary builder. It offers the possibility that an entire design can employ asymmetry using simple proportions and geometric shapes. Many combinations of asymmetrical pairings can be employed along with mirror-image symmetrical elements sprinkled throughout a design. With that in mind, let’s take a look at an asymmetrical design inspired by a mid-century modern design by Charles Hayward.
This cabinet also mixes symmetrical elements alongside asymmetrical elements to create an interesting form. The proportions are deceptively simple.
It begins with form, governed by a rectangle that’s a simple six parts high by seven parts wide. One sixth the height is the module.
The front elevation has an asymmetrical layout in the configuration of the large doors. The full length door is three modules wide, and the pair of shorter symmetrical doors combine to occupy four modules of the horizontal space. These four modules also govern the overall length of the two upper drawers. The case sits one-and-a-half modules off the floor. The drawers are one-module high.
This design employed a secondary module to size the widths of the two asymmetrical drawers at the top of the case. The secondary module is based on dividing four parts into three spacings and giving the width of the smaller drawer one part.
Going Deeper with Proportions
We’ve looked at some ways designs can be organized with simple whole-number proportions. In some of our examples, we’ve looked at using a secondary module. The use of a secondary module was actually quite common in traditional work but no group of artisans had a better grasp of its use than the Shakers. Perhaps that’s why their designs have such a universal appeal. In our next chapter, we’ll take a closer look at some Shaker work and how they used a secondary module to give their designs a spark.
Cutting patterns is a natural part of working wood with hand tools. For centuries, patterns and symbols have decorated simple tools and utensils. During long winter nights in front of the fire, symbolic patterns were carved into the wood. And with the tip of a sheath knife, a signature or house mark was added next to the year — a couple of slanted notches that have immortalized the object for posterity, a plowed furrow in the soil of time. Today, these objects glitter like treasure in museum archives and provide inspiration for those who want to develop a creative and authentic practice of pattern-carving in wood.
To me, contemplating what pattern to cut on an object — on a box, spoon or knife handle — feels like I’m being served dessert. I want to enjoy the process, allow the sketching time it needs to create a unique and ideal pattern: a decoration that I can cut at my leisure, safe in the knowledge that it will stand the test of time for many years to come. This is the feeling and experience I want to share with you. A big advantage of cutting patterns is that you don’t need many tools; a chip carving knife and a regular well-sharpened sheath knife will go a long way. Basic slöjd tools are needed to make the objects themselves, of course. But once this is done, you can bring your chip carving knife anywhere. Once you begin to familiarize yourself with techniques such as the fingernail cut, shallow relief carving and kolrosing, you’ll need to supplement your tools with a few gouges and a kolrosing knife. You may also need to fasten the material to a workbench or table with clamps to free up both hands.
There is great variety and freedom of choice in composing your own designs. Think of this book as a primer on technique, a source of inspiration and an invitation to create your own bank of patterns as well as your own unique style.
It contains many pictures of newly composed patterns and objects made and crafted specifically for this book. There are also pictures of older examples from folk art, captured in museums around Scandinavia. You can also read about cutting patterns in my previous book “Slöjd in Wood” (Lost Art Press, 2018), under the chapter on chip carving. This book offers a wider range of in-depth pattern ideas, additional inspiration, and suggestions on how to make various everyday objects the slöjd way.
You can read and use this book independently of “Slöjd in Wood,” though I occasionally refer to technical descriptions found in the previous title.
ROOTED IN A FOLK TRADITION OF PATTERNS
My journey as a woodworker began when my father put a chopping block in my childhood bedroom. Along the way, as I have adopted new techniques and materials, these experiences have been com-pounded into a knowledge that has shaped a special slöjd-inspired approach to my materials, tools and folk art. It has resulted in a practice that has gradually come to encompass work processes as well as cultural history in a never-ending exploration that is constantly growing both deeper and broader. Slöjd has become part of my profession, a kind of artistic vocation or a so-called métier. Traditionally, this has been common in many professions that involve working with one’s hands but has rarely been documented by the practitioners themselves, who are preoccupied with their work. Herein, I have gathered all my experience of cutting patterns in wood, and with this book I wish to pass it on to you.
My woodworking is marked by a quest to strike the perfect balance between opposites such as shallow and deep, burlesque and serious, as well as classical and folksy. Drawing inspiration from older slöjd, this has always been a stated aspiration in my work. When I admire traditional patterns, I’m often struck by all that the term “traditional” holds. It’s a loaded, heavy and somewhat boring word, often evoking preconceived conservative images imprinted on us by museums and history books. Yet for me, the opposite is true. Every time I return to the archives — as I like to call the thousands of pictures and drawings of old slöjd and patterns I have collected over the years — I am struck by a tremendous desire to work wood with my hands. When I study the patterns, I see the folk geometry, the rhythm, all the personal mannerisms and local variations. I feel like I become part of a long tradition of folk-art souls making slöjd. These explorations give me a deeper understanding of the conditions that governed how folk art was made, both the living conditions of the slöjd maker and the materials and tools that were used.
The choices and limitations — why a certain pattern has been carved — are influenced by the time in which the slöjd maker lives. Often, I see a personal and artistic style that offers a great freedom, which in my view approaches a folk-art definition of what slöjd is. To me, slöjd and folk art offer the freedom to express beauty, contradiction, naive delight and deep seriousness in my own unique way. I can’t wait to try out variations on what I have just seen. In slöjd, I get to explore new ways of expressing a different aspect of my personal style through sketching, drawing, reshaping and finally cutting the pattern. Together with the joy of having made a new object, to me the creative process is the greatest satisfaction in slöjd
Ale-drinking vessel, from the Norsk Folkemuseum in Oslo, Norway. The barely discernible face surrounded by rays underneath a crown became the spark that ignited my long interest in pattern-making in slöjd. At first, I was attracted by its crude yet refined simplicity. Only later did I become aware of the significance of the symbols. “IHS” was originally an abbreviation for the name Jesus in medieval manuscripts.
WHAT’S THE POINT OF CUTTING PATTERNS?
One of my earliest vivid memories of pattern-carving is from a visit to the Norsk Folkemuseum in Oslo in the early 1980s. The exhibition space is dark; only the light from the display cases illuminates the room. Some guksis (wooden cups)and burl bowls from the 17th century catch my interest. I try to take a picture, but suspecting it’s too dark, I take out my sketchpad instead and begin to draw the shapes and patterns from the outside of the bowl. I struggle to define which parts of the carved surface are raised and which are recessed. After staring and thinking, sketching and erasing for quite some time, the pattern finally emerges with greater clarity — as though I were developing a photograph in an analog darkroom. Shading with a pencil, I create depth and angles. How can I accentuate shallow and flat surfaces in relation to deep cuts?
By the time I have been sketching for an hour, I’m exhausted and my fingers are itching for a piece of wood and a knife; I want to have a go at cutting the pattern myself. Someone is speaking to me from behind the carved figures. The woodworker is inviting me to do the same: “Try it yourself! Put your knife to the wood and the rest will take care of itself.”
