It’s no secret that I adore Chris Williams’s chairs, which have a direct and honest lineage to John Brown’s work. Chris worked with JB for more than a decade and made countless chairs under his eye.
In fact, I have to actively stop myself from imitating Chris’s work. It’s a struggle because I have one of his chairs sitting in front of me as I write this. I sit in it every day. It is a part of my family.
If you’ve ever wanted a chair that is tied directly to JB, read on. MARCH, a San Francisco store that specializes in handmade goods, has one of Chris’s chairs and is selling it for $5,000. It is an outstanding specimen of Chris’s work. Every detail is perfect – even to a chairmaker’s eye.
I know $5,000 is a lot of money, but I would buy it if I didn’t already own one.
In my Amercian Welsh Stick Chair classes, we start with home center dowels that have been selected for dead-straight grain for the chair’s back spindles and sticks. They work great (wood is wood), but there can be a lot of luck and driving around necessary to get enough sticks for a class of six to 12 students.
In fact, last year, I denuded the Kentucky/Ohio/Indiana Tristate area of straight-grain red oak dowels for my March 2019 class.
For my classes in the coming year, I decided to find a way to reduce my driving and gathering.
After trying many options (too many to list here without wanting to slap myself with a cold, dead mackerel), I settled on the Veritas Dowel Maker. I’ve used it before when making the sticks for Roorkee chairs.
The idea is simple: you spin square stock into the device. Two blades slice it down to size.
The only complication is that the device is a bit complicated to set up. After reading the instructions a few times, I went upstairs to see if the university had taken back my diploma. I simply wasn’t able to follow the instructions in a couple places. I needed a good video to understand what I’m missing here.
Sadly, there aren’t any really excellent videos out there on this tool. There are a lot of OK ones. After watching a few of them I was able to make the appropriate synapses and the device became crystal clear to operate.
With my stupidity set aside (for the time being), I made the blanks for my spindles. This was the joyous part. I could select the straightest, clearest stock to make spindles that were super strong.
After that, you spin the blanks into the device – a drill powers the operation. The surface finish on the dowels was pretty good. A single swipe with a scraper was enough to remove the annular rings. Another plus: I could fine-tune the dowels to come out at exactly the dimension I wanted.
After running 100 or so sticks, I decided to sharpen the blades and see if that improved the surface finish. So I stoned them both up to #8,000 grit on my waterstones (they sharpen just like a plane iron). The improvement in surface finish was minimal – I still need to scrape them.
All in all, I believe the Veritas Dowel Maker will pay for itself with my first class. It saves me a tank of gas, and I can make the sticks for a chair using $10 in wood instead of $24 to $36.
If I made only an occasional chair, I’d make the sticks the old-fashioned way with a spokeshave or block plane. But you need 50 perfect dowels with dead-straight grain, the tool is a nice thing to have.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. Of course I paid full price for the Veritas Dowel Maker and the accessories. And the wood. And etc.
Christian
Becksvoort was born in Wolfsburg, Germany. His father, who had spent seven
years as a German apprentice, worked as a cabinetmaker. When Chris was 6, his
parents decided to move to Toronto. But shortly before relocating to Canada, the
Toronto church sponsorship fell through and Washington, D.C. became a
last-minute alternative. In time, the family settled in Wheaton, Maryland
– better school, better neighborhood.
As a
child, Chris remembers building small wooden boats, model ships and historic
schooners – “little things like that,” he says. “I always enjoyed making
things and being outdoors.”
Chris’s high
school had a nice shop, and he took four years of shop class. There he learned how
to use power tools, tool safety, joinery methods and finishing techniques. Wood
technology, however, was glossed over. He built a mahogany plant table “that
was put together pretty well,” he says, but it cracked. When he asked his shop
teacher why, his teacher simply said, “You didn’t let the wood move.”
Chris says
at the time, he didn’t have the faintest idea of how wood movement worked or
how to allow for it. (He later took one semester of wood technology in
college.) His furniture now sells to clients all over the country, in many
different climates.
“Sending
it back to me is not an option,” he says, citing, in particular, substantial
delivery costs. “Once I get paid I never see it again.”
And that’s
how he likes it – his furniture is built to last generations, and this
lesson he learned in high school has influenced the design of every piece he
has made since. On his website, under “The Becksvoort Difference,” he writes,
“I take wood movement seriously, over-building and compensating to ensure that
your investment lasts.” He includes two examples: dovetailing all his mouldings
and constructing telescoping web frames between his drawers.
Chris’s dad continued working as a cabinetmaker in the states, building furniture and doing architectural work, built-ins and kitchens. When Chris, who was still learning, turned 12, his dad, a perfectionist, hired him.
“Things didn’t go as well as they should have,” Chris says, counting the number of times he was fired and re-hired in one summer. “He was not the easiest guy to work for. So the last thing I wanted to do was be a woodworker for a living.”
Chris
ended up at the University of Maine – far enough away that he couldn’t go
home for a weekend but close enough that he could go home for a week’s vacation,
he says. Plus, he enjoyed cold weather. He played intramural hockey (and, later
in life, did speed skating for several years). He started out studying
forestry, but switched to wildlife. The switch in majors required some summer
coursework to catch up on credits. While taking a photography course he met a
woman who would soon become his wife, Peggy.
After graduating
in 1972, Chris got a government job at a wildlife research center in Maryland. Part
of his job was feeding 600 Japanese quail. While he enjoyed the fact that
everyone knocked off early on Fridays to go out for a beer, the work wasn’t
what he expected, and wasn’t much fun (let’s just say another employee’s
misplaced decimal point once meant the untimely demise of hundreds of birds).
Woodworking, he said, was beginning to look not too bad after all.
So Chris returned to Maine and worked for a furniture manufacturer for nine years. He learned a lot, both about woodworking and running a business. Next was a gig with a large architectural millwork shop in downtown Portland. There he helped restore Victorian homes by working on stairways, windows and doors, and reproducing historic mouldings. “It was a real learning experience,” he says, as he describes using routers and shapers in heart-stopping ways.
In 1986, he opened his own shop. “I’ve been at it ever since, and it’s been a real challenging ride, to say the least,” he says.
‘That Shaker Guy’
“Mary mother of God. That’s
Christian Becksvoort! He’s the modern master of Shaker style. I never dreamed
that I would see him in the flesh.” —
Ron Swanson, played by Nick Offerman, NBC’s “Parks and Recreation,” season 5,
episode 9.
Before
Chris’s name became synonymous with Shaker furniture, he first became smitten
with the form after seeing pieces in a 1974 exhibit at the Smithsonian American
Art Museum’s Renwick gallery. “I went back to visit it five, six, seven times,”
he says. Little did he know that someday he would have the chance to reproduce
two of the gallery’s pieces in his own shop.
Chris says his father built a lot of Danish-style, mid-century modern furniture. So Chris grew up admiring clean surfaces and with an understanding that less is often more. “I don’t want to interrupt a surface with fancy mouldings,” he says. He doesn’t like design that exists without a utilitarian purpose (ahem, gingerbread), anything that screams “hey, look what I can do” or anything that makes dusting difficult. “There’s no dirt in heaven,” he quips.
In his 1998 book “The Shaker Legacy: Perspectives on an Enduring Furniture Style,” (The Taunton Press) Chris writes, “As a furniture maker, I not only value the Shakers’ considerable craftsmanship but also respect their insistence upon utility as the first tenet of good design. With the Shakers, there is no ego involved, no conscious effort to produce works of art. Austere utility is beautiful in and of itself, and often works of art are inadvertently produced.”
He not
only appreciates the simplicity of Shaker furniture, but the construction
methods used as well. “It’s clean,” he says. “But some of the construction is
fairly complex. It’s well-designed.”
Chris says
his biggest entry into Shaker furniture was being allowed to do maintenance and
restoration work for Sabbathday Lake, the last remaining active Shaker
community, in New Gloucester, Maine.
“If you want any repair work done I’ll do it for the cost of materials,” he said. They agreed, and it’s work he’s still doing today.
“From making display cases to replacing chair parts, restoring a sewing desk, replacing moulding, or assembling an entire built-in, my work with the Shakers has been rewarding, educational and, hopefully, mutually beneficial,” Chris wrote in “Shaker Inspiration,” his latest book from Lost Art Press. “Seeing the size, angle and spacing of dovetails cut 200 years ago, or taking apart a mortise-and-tenon joint and discovering that the edges were carefully chamfered, was a learning experience unlike any taught in school.”
Chris also rose in name recognition through his work with Fine Woodworking. Chris had heard about a guy who had a cool portable band saw so he drove to him, interviewed him and took pictures. He sent it all to Fine Woodworking and not only did they buy the article, but soon after they offered him a job. Not wanting to move to Connecticut, Chris agreed to a contributing editor position, which he has held since 1989. (You can read much of his magazine work here.)
He has written several books, including “The Shaker Legacy” (Taunton Press, 1998); “With the Grain: A Craftsman’s Guide to Understanding Wood” (Lost Art Press, 2013), which was originally published as “In Harmony With Wood” (Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1983) and “Shaker Inspiration” (Lost Art Press, 2018).
And for years he ran workshops and conducted lectures around the country.
As such, Chris says he’s been dubbed “that Shaker guy.” I
ask if this has ever made him feel pigeonholed. Sometimes, he admits. But he’s
also taken some creative liberties with design. For example, a traditional
Shaker music stand is fairly straight forward and stiff – his are more
fluid, “Shaker-inspired.”
“There are plusses and minuses,” he says. “But mostly it’s a good label.”
His work has resulted in a bit of fame. Fans regularly take the time to find and visit his showroom and shop, tucked away on a dirt road in the backwoods of Maine. Most visitors are kind and considerate, he says. He’s been featured on Martha Stewart’s show (you can watch the 2001 clip here). And actor, woodworker and writer Nick Offerman considers him a personal hero (Chris is featured in Nick’s book “Good Clean Fun” (Dutton, 2016) and Chris appeared in an episode of “Parks and Recreation,” in which Nick plays character Ron Swanson).
“A major treat, and a great honor, was to be featured in
Nick Offerman’s new book, ‘Good Clean Fun,’” Chris wrote on his blog in October
2016. “A whole chapter, no less!”
Crafting a Business
In “Shaker
Inspiration,” Chris spends a lot of ink on the business of woodworking. He
begins with the necessity of preparation and a solid business plan that
includes a summary, organization, description, product line, market analysis
and funding. He then dives into the importance of quality photos, advertising,
catalogs, customer lists, customer records and time cards.
Pre-website
days Chris could buy a 1”, black-and-white ad in The New Yorker for $800. Search the October 19, 1992, issue online
and you’ll see one, on page 106, situated aside a review of Quentin Tarantino’s
movie “Reservoir Dogs”:
Why invest in furniture from a one-man shop on a dirt road in New Gloucester, Maine? CATALOG $5.00 C. H. BECKSVOORT FURNITUREMAKER Box 12, New Gloucester Maine 04260. (207) 926-4608
These ads
often led to a couple sales.
Additional
business matters he addresses in his book include mailing lists, public
relations, craft shows, galleries, selling direct, customer care and giving
back.
“There
were a lot of dead ends,” he says, when talking about the business side of
things. He started collecting catalogs from other woodworkers, not to copy them
but to be different. He learned that placing his work in galleries cut too much
into his profits and unless a show was indoors and juried, he skipped them.
“After
more than five decades, I can do the woodworking almost in the dark,” he writes
in “Shaker Inspiration.” “It’s the business end that’s a constant challenge,
and it keeps me on my toes.”
Chris
eventually built a 14 x 20 showroom on his property. “It takes effort to find
me,” he says. But a customer/fan who is willing to find him is one often
willing to purchase a piece. And having a designated space where customers can
see much of his work in person, touch surfaces, pull out drawers and run their
fingertips over carvings has been a great benefit, he says.
He works
alone and builds 20 to 30 custom pieces each year. They are all signed and
dated, and each piece has an embedded silver dollar in it, secreted away to the
delight of many customers. He estimates he’s built more than 850 pieces.
“I keep
trying to retire but it’s not happening yet,” he says. “I keep saying to
myself, ‘Where were these people 25 years ago?’” Right now he’s booked almost
to Christmas. There are five to six pieces he would like to design and build
for himself, “but the bills have to be paid first,” he says. Finding time for personal
prototypes is difficult.
The Gift of Simplicity
Chris and Peggy have two children, a son and daughter, both now grown but within easy driving distance. They also have one grandson who likes to push his bulldozer through little piles of sawdust in Chris’s shop.
Still not a fan of hot weather, Chris says he enjoys Maine and the changing of the seasons, although he hates shoveling in the winter and isn’t a big fan of mowing in the summer. When they first moved to New Gloucester, they rented while looking for a house to buy. Eventually, in 1977, they saw an ad in the paper – a fully furnished house for sale on 25 acres for $20,000. In reality, there were only a couple pieces of furniture and the house required a significant amount of work. Chris and Peggy spent a year working on it, tearing out, redoing plumbing and wiring, adding insulation, sheet rocking and painting. They moved in in 1978.
With time Chris added a shop (Fine Woodworking featured it in their Tools & Shops 2019 Issue – you can take a tour of it here), garden shed and showroom. In the main house, there are built-ins in every room. They did a significant amount of landscaping, including planting hundreds of daffodils. They rebuilt stone walls and created trails through the woods. The land allows for gardening and Chris’s first love, forestry.
When
studying forestry all those years ago Chris remembers being handed a sheet of
paper with spaces numbered 1 through 100. Outside the university’s lab were
trees labeled with numbers – students had to identify them all. He did
well, and to this day he can identify most any tree in any season.
Climate
change has changed Maine’s winters, he says. The first winter he and Peggy
moved into the house the only heat source they had was a wood stove and the
temperature dropped to 44 below zero. The water in the washing machine froze.
“We haven’t seen temps like that in the past 30 to 40 years,” he says. They
also now have ticks and opossums and cardinals.
Every year
he buys a little calendar that he uses to track the daily temperature, first
frosts, the birth of a child, the addition of a dog (he’s had three huskies
over the years). “It’s not really a diary,” he says, “but every day I write two
or three lines of what happened, what we did.”
The house
and land, he says, is getting a little more difficult to maintain. With
thoughts of retirement on the horizon Chris and Peggy are considering moving to
something smaller.
These days
Chris sometimes slows down on Friday afternoons, as he and his colleagues did
at his first job at the wildlife research center. He still works Monday through
Friday, and he’ll occasionally finish up some work on a Saturday, after supper.
But he no longer puts in what used to be a solid 60 hours a week. He splits his
time between working in the shop and the business side of things – sending
out proposals, tracking down hardware, bookkeeping, taxes etc.
Chris
enjoys working in the garden, walking, going out to eat with friends, drinking
Scotch and listening to music. He has a Bose player in his shop and 4,000 songs
on his iPhone. His taste in music is varied – ’60s and ’70s rock, folk
music, jazz, classical, dulcimer music (but no opera or hip hop). Peggy is a
librarian and they both enjoy reading.
“Bookshelves are all over the house – we have way too many books,” he says. They’re filled with books about woodworking, Shakers and forestry. He typically doesn’t indulge in buying novels – those he gets from the library. He uses his books for research and owns almost every book on Shakers that has ever come out.
Some folks may be surprised to learn that Chris has nine tattoos (you can see a few of them here). They include a butterfly joint, a maple leaf (because he likes working with maple and almost became a Canadian, he says), a white pine silhouette, a dovetail saw, a cross section of black walnut, a No. 5 plane, a black cherry tree, a chisel and, his newest, a Shaker peg (“a wink at my wife,” he says). “That’s it for now, unless the spirit moves me.”
The
Herbie Project
In the June 20, 2010, issue of Portland Press Herald,” Bob Keyes wrote an article titled “Herbie’s
come down, sadly. Happily, there’s a big upside.” Herbie was considered the biggest American elm
in New England, and started growing in Yarmouth in 1793.
“In 2010, the tree was beyond saving, and had to be cut
down,” Chris wrote in a September 2016 blog post. “Some of the branches were
over 4’ thick, and the trunk was over 10’ long and roughly 7’ at the butt end.
I joined the Herbie committee and suggested that we distribute the wood to
craftspeople throughout Maine. During the next nine months the branches were
cut up, and the trunk was sawn and the boards were kiln dried, and the wood was
distributed to woodworkers throughout the state. They made chairs, benches,
birds, baseball bats, cabinets, desks, tables, music stands, hundreds of bowls,
pens, a coffin, sculptures, cutting boards, and even an electric guitar.”
In November 2010, the items were auctioned off and the
Yarmouth Tree Trust netted about $40,000.
According to the Portland Press Herald article, Chris made a music stand, which was debuted at the Maine Festival of American Music: Its Roots and Traditions at the Shaker Meeting House in New Gloucester, hosted by the Portland String Quartet. The article also noted that the tree’s birth year, 1793, coincided with the establishment of the Sabbathday Lake Shaker community and its plans for the building of the 1794 Meeting House – which was where the festival’s concert took place.
Looking at Chris’s life as a whole, circles like this become
apparent. His love of forestry and trees and woodworking connect in a simple
and satisfying way as in the story about Herbie. His love of reading and
learning have translated in dozens of articles, books and workshops. He has
followed his father’s legacy, but on his own terms. And his philosophy on life,
rules, if you will, for good living, are seemingly so simple on the outside,
but require a sometimes surprising bit of complexity on the inside (much like
Shaker furniture):
“Only let
positive people influence you. Try to stick to your values. Leave a little
footprint. Be as creative as possible. Honesty and kindness go a long way.”
Just a reminder that registration opens at 10 a.m. today for January-June 2020 classes (and that a small, non-refundable registration fee ($12 per day) will be collected at signup). Click here to see the list of classes and to register.
I have to turn on the waitlist for each class after it sells out, and will do my best to keep on eye on the site to do that as soon as it becomes necessary – but if a class you want is sold out and the waitlist isn’t yet functional, please check back for it. (There is no charge to join the waitlist.)
If you encounter any problems with the ticketing site, please send an email to covingtonmechanicals@gmail.com (not to the Lost Art Press help desk).