“The making of fine furniture – the very words have a full, rich ring to them, bringing the craftsman into line with his forebears, the men who created the English tradition of fine workmanship, and throwing a glow of hope and inspiration upon the future. Here is something for which a man does not require worldly wealth, but the riches of his own personality, the powers which can be cultivated, the judgment which can be trained. Fine furniture is not showy or extravagant – it is the furniture which is wisely planned and beautifully made. The choicest wood can be marred by careless handling, sound homely stuff transformed by good design and first-rate workmanship into something anyone would be proud to own. Nowadays we cannot heap up worldly goods arounds us – prices are too high. The old Victorian plentitude – with its rooms full of gleaming mahogany, too big and cumbersome for modern taste and modern homes – has gone with very little likelihood of return. But our very limitations can be our gain if we see that what we have is as good as we can make it. The grand thing about fine furniture is that, properly treated, it grows still more gracious with time, when the scars and scratches it acquires from the exuberance of a young, growing family need be no disfigurement. It is marvellous how regular, routine polishing, continued over a long period, will mellow them till they look no more disfiguring that the lines on a comely old face. They are landmarks, taking us back over the years, the guides and pegs around which memories will cluster and which, when we reach old age, will be there to remind us of the lives they have shared, of the sorrows and happiness the past has brought us, which now, like a rich tapestry of many hues, can be enjoyed in tranquility.”
I’ve just finished up designing the third new chapter for the expansion of “The Anarchist’s Design Book” on the boarded settle chair. (What is the deal with this expansion? Here’s an FAQ.)
Thanks to all the odd angles, this boarded chair is great fun to build and is surprisingly comfortable. And the lumber bill is only $55. It is an imposing piece of furniture, and the bold curves I cut on the sides only make it more eye-catching. To turn down the volume a bit, I painted the sides black, which allows the chair to recede a bit in a room.
This design is based on historical examples from Northern Wales and Northern England that I’ve seen in furniture books. Sometimes called “lambing chairs,” many of the originals are in pine.
Below is the link to download this chapter. Here are the usual caveats:
The writing is still a bit rough. Megan Fitzpatrick edited it today, but there might be a few typos we still need to clean up for the print edition.
The construction drawing is still crude. In the printed version there will be a nice copperplate etching from Briony Morrow-Cribbs in its place.
This chapter is intended for those who already own the current edition of “The Anarchist’s Design Book.” So this chapter is offered on the honor system. Those who download the chapter without owning the book will be forced to play dice with wombat poop (which is apparently square).
That’s it. Thanks to everyone who has bought the book, and I hope you are enjoying the new chapters. There are two (maybe three) more to go.
We are asked regularly by customers and retailers about the status of upcoming books and other projects at Lost Art Press. I sometimes hesitate to talk too much about upcoming projects – or put a release date to them – because people get upset if we miss those dates.
That said, here is the list of active projects at Lost Art Press. I offer it with these two caveats:
We don’t have firm deadlines at Lost Art Press. We print a book when it’s as good as we can make it – no less.
The information below is all I have. If a project isn’t listed here, the author is still researching it, writing it or trying to return from falling off the edge of the earth. So asking me about Andrew Lunn’s book on sawmaking isn’t going to garner a response – I simply don’t know.
Here we go:
“Shaker Inspirations” by Christian Becksvoort This is our final release for 2018 and should go to press tomorrow. It is part autobiography, part lesson in craftsmanship, part business treatise and part measured drawings to some of Chris’s best pieces. If you know Chris, you will find this book to be Classic Chris – plainspoken and opinionated – with the chops to back it up.
Lost Art Press “Blackout” T-shirt This is the other product we are offering for the holidays. It’s an inexpensive dark blue T-shirt with a black Lost Art Press logo on it. We’ve been experimenting with this sort of shirt for a while to see how it ages. It’s awesome. These should be available in three weeks.
Lost Art Press Chore Coats The factory making the final batch of chore coats in Japanese cotton has been dragging its feet. Officials there promise we’ll have coats in three weeks. Don’t hold your breath. For the new edition of the chore coat in American-made cotton, we are waiting for prototypes to arrive from two vendors.
“The Difference Makers” by Marc Adams This will be a huge, beautiful and inspiring book. Marc Adams, owner and founder of the largest woodworking school in North America, has written a book that profiles more than 30 of the best furniture makers, toolmakers and artists he’s encountered through his school. Each profile features a biography of the person, Marc’s personal tale of his history with the person and lots of gorgeous photos of finished work. Editing this book has been both humbling and inspiring. Definitely 2019.
“Joiner’s Work” by Peter Follansbee We’re all eagerly awaiting Peter’s follow-up to “Make a Joint Stool from a Tree,” which will delve into Peter’s case work, boxes and chairs. The book is tantalizingly close to being in our hands so we can finish editing it and designing it. Let’s hope for 2019.
“Make a Chair from a Tree, Third Edition” by Jennie Alexander Our dearest hope is to get this book out by the end of the summer in 2019. The text is in pretty good shape now (thanks to Larry Barrett), and I am going to Baltimore in October to finish up the new photography we need for this new edition.
“The Life & Work of John Brown” by Christopher Williams This project is beginning to pick up steam, and I hope the research and writing will be done by the end of 2019. I am off to Wales tomorrow to work with Chris Williams a bit, meet some of John Brown’s family, see some chairs and (I hope) look through archival photographs for the book.
“Country Woodcraft, Then & Now” (working title) by Drew Langsner Drew is updating his classic “Country Woodcraft,” which was published way before anyone used the term “green woodworking.” It was an important book that launched a lot of woodworkers into pursuing traditional crafts. The new edition will feature the book’s original contents (slightly edited in places) plus a big dose of new chapters that reflect what Drew learned by a lifetime in the woods and at the bench.
“The Anarchist’s Design Book (Expanded)” by Christopher Schwarz My goal is to finish writing this updated version by the end of 2018 so it can be published in 2019. I have only two more projects to build – though I desperately want to add a third project to my to-do list. If you have questions about this expansion edition, read this FAQ.
We have lots more projects in the works from the likes of Nancy Hiller, Jarrod Dahl, Vic Tesolin, Don Williams and Brendan Gaffney. But I don’t have any updates to report on those books.
In some old images of staked stools and chairs, you’ll find the legs and other components are a bit curved. Sometimes this is the result of the “hedge carpenter” using a curved branch scavenged from the woods. Or from using sections of a log that are riven from the swelling at the butt of the tree, which is naturally curved.
Today I encountered a description of a hedge carpenter that was charming that led me back to Walter Rose’s “The Village Carpenter” (of course).
“Thus they had never become enslaved to line and level; their minds had not been trained to revolt if their work deviated from the square, or if it was slightly on the twist and the faces of their joints not absolutely flush. They themselves made no claim to art – I doubt if they knew the meaning of the word. But the work they did was part of the beauty of the countryside; the cleft fence-rails and posts split from oak saplings, with the bark left on in places, and the rough knots trimmed with axe or drawing knife.”