Our ceramics supplier has just filled our entire order of Lost Art Press Beer Steins, and they are now available for immediate shipment. The mugs are $39, made in the USA by an artists’ collective and hold 20 ounces of beer, bourbon or coffee.
These mugs are handmade, dishwasher-safe and a joy to use.
We also have a new bandana design available in our store. This bandana features construction drawings from one of the comb-back chairs in “The Stick Chair Book.” The bandana was designed by Tom Bonamici to look like a blueprint. These are printed by One Feather Press in Tennessee, which makes the nicest bandanas we have found. They are pre-washed, soft and crisp.
Please note that because of ongoing supply-chain problems, we may not be able to restock these items if we sell out of them before Christmas. So if you are considering these as a gift, act now to avoid disappointment or shipping delays (remember last year? We do).
My latest chair is a white oak backstool/armchair that is inspired by the chair that Bilbo Baggins sits in during the opening of “The Fellowship of the Ring.” This full-size chair is by no means a copy of that chair, however. Read on for details.
I really shouldn’t write about stave churches. First off, it’s really way too much for a blog post. Second, I’m not an expert. I’m just an awestruck fan. Also, there are doctoral theses, documentaries, articles, research projects, books, lectures, artworks and chock-full web pages that you can scroll through that will tickle your fancy for medieval woodworking. You can also find stave churches in our folklore and even fairy tales if you prefer a more mythical perspective. Then again, who needs all that when you have the Lost Art Press blog and a mediocre Norwegian chairmaker to tell you all about them? It’s just woodworking, after all!
Heddal Stave Church, built ca. 1150. This is Norway’s largest stave church. Built by trolls, according to local myths.
I’m joking of course. I’m a complete moron compared to the people that built the stave churches. These buildings are all unique woodworking wonders that put on display some of the most incredible craftsmanship that existed in Europe during the Middle Ages. Along with our Viking ships, the stave churches are by far Norway’s largest and most important contribution to the World Heritage Sites. So if you ever come to Norway, forget about brown cheese and the midnight sun. Go to church instead!
Eidsborg Stave Church. Built ca. 1250.
A Brief History of Something Very Old
Research estimates that during the Middle Ages (ca. years 500-1500), somewhere between 1,500 to 2,000 stave churches were built in Norway. They were probably also common throughout other parts of Northern Europe. However today there are only 30 left in the world. And 28 of them are in Norway. The other two are the Hedared Stave Church in Sweden and Vang Stave Church in Poland. The latter was built in the village of Vang, Norway, about 1150. In 1842 it was taken apart and transported to Poland, where it was rebuilt. And remember, this was before U-Haul.
The construction of stave churches abruptly ended in the 1400s. Most of them disappeared during the period from 1350-1650, possibly due to the Black Plague and the Protestant Reformation. The 28 churches left in Norway were all built somewhere between 1150 and 1350.
The reconstructed Fantoft Stave Church from 1997. Originally built in 1150, but was set on fire by satanic worshippers in 1992. It burned to the ground in just 30 minutes. The church was rebuilt as an exact replica, using 400 year old pine. Photo by Diego Delso, license CC-BY-SA
The name “stave church” derives from the wooden posts that were the load-bearing elements in these timber frame constructions. These posts were placed vertically on top of sleepers (horizontal beams) that were clamped between corners and larger posts that were placed into the ground. On top of the posts, new beams were placed. This created frames that were completed with raised boards. In the Old Norse language, a post in a timber frame construction was called a “stafr.” The name since evolved into the word “stav,” which is used today and means the same.
All photos: Main staves (out of 20) in the Heddal Stave Church.
Octagonal stave repaired with bowties.
Picking Perfect Pine
Pine (Pinus sylvestris) has always been abundant in Norway. In dense forest they grow straight and tall, and usually with few branches along the stem. This made them perfect for Viking ships and stave churches. On top of these attributes, the Vikings were also extremely picky about the trees they used. They had a deep knowledge of how to exploit and even manipulate the trees into becoming perfect for their intended use.
They did this by first picking slow-growing mountain pines, often in the range of 200-300 years old. These trees had a much larger amount of heartwood, with very little space between the growth rings. They were then debranched and had their top cut off, before they were left standing for another 15-20 years. The resin then seeped into the heartwood and saturated it completely. The result was a highly resinous and dense heartwood. This is called ore-pine and is virtually rot-resistant. All the stave churches were built using this technique. The ore-pine was preferred for the main staves and beams, the wall boards and the roof tiles. Ore-pine is still widely used today in Norway in house construction and other areas.
Here I’m holding a cross section of Norwegian ore-pine, showing the distinct transition between resinous heartwood and the sapwood.
Cross section of nearly 300 years old mountain pine. Notice the very compact growth. The line marks 200 years. Please excuse my pale legs for also looking centuries old.
Another ancient Scandinavian tradition is the use of pine tar for protecting wood against harsh weather conditions. The tar was made by stacking highly resinous pine heartwood under an airtight cover of clay and other materials, and then lighting the wood on fire. After burning for up to two days, the wood was decomposed into charcoal and pine tar. This was then smeared onto the stave churches to further prevent them against rot.
By Hand & Axe
No one really knows who built the stave churches and where they learned their craft. The distinct style is also up for debate. Some think they came to life during a period of cultural vacuum here in the north. Others believe that they are a result of imported traditions and culture from Europe. Some have argued that the stave churches are inspired by the Roman basilicas. Others again thought they sprung out of the old heathen hofs, which was the Old Norse term for pagan temples. While others insisted that they were built by trolls and other mythical creatures. I’m pretty sure someone will soon claim that Hillary Clinton and a bunch of aliens were the ones who really built them.
What we do know is that the churches were without nails and mostly without wooden pegs as well. Even the roof shingles were often laid without the use of pegs or nails. While some early stave churches had board roofs that were pegged, most churches built after year 1200 had tar-covered roof shingles. Using tar-covered shingles on outer walls was also a common practice.
A typical roof shingle.
Eidsborg Stave Church. Roof and walls with tar covered shingles.
Detail from Eidsborg Stave Church. Tiled outer wall.
Pine tar covered roof shingles on Heddal Stave Church.
The skilled people who built our stave churches used a wide range of tools. The most important were different types of axes, augers, plumb bobs and a set of tools that I really don’t know the English words for – the pjål, the skavl and the skjøve. While that may sound like the Norwegian title of a famous movie starring Clint Eastwood, I assure you it’s not. The pjål, also called veggskave (wall scraper) was a an edge tool fastened onto a long wooden shaft and was used two-handed in a scraping action along the wall boards to joint them and smooth axe marks. There were also special types of pjåls that were used for more ornamental shaping. The pjål probably came in many sizes and shapes.
Besides some technical and architectural variations, the stave churches are generally similar in both construction and ornamentation. Each church has portals decorated with carvings, some more than others. A common theme in these carvings is fighting dragons, lions and intricate vines. Researchers argue whether this iconography is pagan or not. The carvings do not have any direct biblical references. Despite this, some think that the iconography is a pagan interpretation of Christianity, which was a new thing during the time many of the churches were built. Norway was Christianized around year 1020. In any case, they are extremely impressive. In addition to the portals, there are intricate carvings and detailed decorations to be found all over the churches’ interiors, the staves themselves, walls and all around the churches.
So, if the church builders were this meticulous about making the churches resistant against Norway´s rainy and cold coastal climate, why did so many of the stave churches disappear? According to the experts, most of them were taken down in order to build larger churches to house more people as the population grew. Fires, avalanches, storms and general decay were other reasons. In 1650, Norway had 270 stave churches left. Around 1800, the number was 95.
In 2001 most of the stave churches were in a bad state, so the Norwegian government started funding a project to renovate and preserve them better. The 28 left today are in good shape. They´re all open to visitors and some of them are still being used for religious services, weddings, funerals and other ceremonies.
So, unless you´re a satanic arsonist, suffer from ecclesiophobia or are afraid of trolls and Vikings, please come visit our stave churches. We need more woodworking tourists to counter all the ones that just want to take a fjord selfie.
Figure 9.1: Krenov (right) and Malmsten (left) examine a scale model in Malmsten’s design office in Stockholm.
Books are born in many different places. This one was born in a bar.
Brendan Gaffney and I were were having a drink at the Old Kentucky Bourbon Bar up the road, and we got on the subject of James Krenov. Brendan had attended The College of the Redwoods (now The Krenov School), but he wasn’t much like any of the other graduates I had met. Brendan admired Krenov, but he didn’t attend the school to walk in the master’s footsteps.
Brendan also attended the school after Krenov’s death, so there was no personal connection between Brendan and Krenov, who was one of the 20th century’s most influential writers, speakers and woodworkers. Full stop.
“Why,” I asked, “has there never been a biography of Krenov? There’s actually little written about his life other than a few stories in his books.”
That conversation led to Brendan’s book “James Krenov: Leave Fingerprints.” It is the first and likely definitive biography of Krenov, and the story like an pulp adventure novel than an academic examination. Krenov’s life story spans three continents, from the wilds of Russia and China to Seattle, Alaska, Sweden and – finally – to the Mendocino Coast of Northern California, where his school now stands.
Through extensive interviews, journals, family documents and a whole host of photographs, Brendan traces Krenov’s entire life. And, more importantly, gives us a balanced and fully formed view of a man that some worship and others malign or dismiss.
Even if you have only a passing familiarity with Krenov, I think you will find “Fingerprints” relentlessly engaging. Krenov’s journey from Russia to one of the most important woodworkers is simply incredible.
— Christopher Schwarz
Learning Furniture Making at Carl Malmsten’s School
Despite his enthusiasm and passion to attend, Krenov’s admission into the Verkstadsskola [furniture school founded by Carl Malmsten] was not immediate. Krenov had been suffering in the factories of Stockholm and was primed for the rigor of Malmsten’s furniture school, but there was a requirement for prior woodworking experience, which his experiences in boatbuilding and wilderness handcraft did not fulfill in the eyes of the old master. In addition to that lack of prerequisite experience, Krenov was already in his late 30s, much older than the other students of the school. From a partial registry of students from Krenov’s years of attendance, he was the oldest student in his cohort by 11 years.
But in his own words in his interview with Oscar Fitzgerald, “I went up to the school and just wouldn’t go away. So they let me in just to get rid of me really, and I studied there.” After meeting with Malmsten in person at his storefront in Stockholm to discuss his entry and to lobby for his admission, he was accepted into the program.
Figure 9.5: Krenov at work on one of Carl Malmsten’s desk designs from the 1940s, the “Nefertiti” desk. The desk’s elaborate marquetry required technical skill and a time-intensive finishing process – and lots of sanding and scraping, as Krenov is shown doing above. Photos courtesy of the Krenov family.
Krenov’s two years at the school revolved around learning both machine and hand production of woodworking and rigorous design practices. The students were under the supervision of Georg Bolin, the lead teacher at the school who had encouraged Krenov, after their first meeting, to hang around. Bolin was himself a musical instrument designer and luthier, a career he came to after an initial training in Malmsten’s first classes. His position as head teacher is indicative of the eccentricity of the school’s environment. Bolin personally advocated for Krenov’s admission to the school, and in later years, the two would remain friends and respectful colleagues.
The school’s curriculum was rigorous, and entailed a six-day workweek aimed at a rounded and intense education of its students. For four days, the students built furniture from Malmsten’s drawings and designs at the workshop in Södermalm. Kjell Orrling, one of Krenov’s classmates from the school, remembers that the students’ furniture was either sold in Malmsten’s furniture store in Stockholm or given to his influential friends for their own homes; the students took no share of the payments in either case. In his recollections, Krenov decided early in his schooling that he wanted to work in a more holistic way, designing and executing his own work, rather than working from the designs of others or offloading his design work to other craftspeople.
“We had exercises where we were asked to design a coffee table or whatever, but you would never build it,” he related to Oscar Fitzgerald in his 2004 interview. “You just designed it and then it was discussed and if he didn’t like it, he’d throw it on the floor and stamp on it.”
Figure 9.8: Three photos taken by Kjell Orrling, one of Krenov’s classmates during his time at Malmsten’s school in Stockholm. On the left is Raimundo Estrems, Krenov’s close friend in the program whom he later recalled in “A Cabinetmaker’s Notebook.” In the middle is Georg Bolin, the principal teacher at the school and a famous luthier, and on the right is Krenov, doweling a desktop to its frame. Photos courtesy of Kjell Orrling.
Krenov, decades later, critiqued the harsh top-down hierarchy of the school’s education, even teasing his professor’s stutter and mannerisms. But Malmsten’s philosophies, grounded in the Arts & Crafts movement and the elevation of folk designs, certainly shaped Krenov’s work in form, methodology and philosophy, and a connection to the Arts & Crafts style constituted a major influence through the rest of Krenov’s life.
One day a week, the students spent their day at one of Malmsten’s drafting and design workshops, studying the drawings and blueprints in production and rendering their own. And, on the sixth day of the week, the students reported to one of the many museums in Stockholm, where they were tasked with making scale drawings and plans for the pieces in the collection. At every stage, in the workshop, the design offices and the museums, Malmsten or Bolin were there, giving feedback to the students, holding their work to an almost unattainable standard. Negative critiques were delivered severely by Malmsten, and the complexity or quality of the projects and designs a given student made in the workshop were dependent on their meeting these standards.
Manne Idestrom, another one of Krenov’s cohorts from the school, remembers that the students were also often employed in manual tasks at Malmsten’s farm, just northeast of Stockholm. While the students trimmed hedges or dug potatoes, Malmsten used these days as an opportunity to lecture about his ideas of design and function, as informed by the natural world or simple work. This interest in the interplay between farm life, craft and old Swedish traditions would soon manifest in another school, Capellgården, which was established just a year after Krenov’s graduation. Orrling, too, remembers working for Malmsten outside of the school. He was younger than most entrants, just 17 years old in 1957, and he had to work as an assistant in the workshop and as an attendant in Malmsten’s downtown store before he was allowed entry to the Verkstadsskola.
Figure 9.10: One of the pieces Krenov made while in school, a coopered-door wall cabinet in Swedish fir. A number of these cabinets would constitute a large portion of Krenov’s first several years of work. Photo by Bengt Carlén.
Both Idestrom and Orrling remember Krenov as a novel, at times odd, member of the class. For the first six months, according to Orrling, Krenov barely interacted with his fellow students, in part because his Swedish language skills were still maturing, and due to the large age gap between himself and his classmates. He was also an oddity in Stockholm at large – his preference in personal style (corduroy clothes, neckerchief and beret) as well as his mannerisms made him stick out. In one anecdote, remembered by his daughter, Krenov’s appearance captured a surprised glance from the Princess Lilian of Sweden, whom he and Britta happened by on the street in Stockholm. Britta remembered him exclaiming to the princess and her company, “It’s not polite to stare, ladies!”
Krenov also had a penchant for reciting poetry and passages from books during the class lunches, a practice he enjoyed and would continue in his own lectures and classrooms decades later; but it put off some of his fellow students. In this way, he was perhaps quite similar to Malmsten.
“He would take 15 minutes to explain a blade of grass,” said Orrling.
But despite his oddity, after a few months Krenov’s devotion and technical prowess won the respect of his classmates and teachers, and both Orrling and Idestrom remember his abilities as noteworthy, surpassing the talents of some of his fellow students. Many of the students came to the school with pre-existing skills, but Krenov’s natural talent for the work was considerable, as were the long hours he spent after school in the workshop. Students were allowed to use the space in the evenings for their own work, and while some used this time to make simple wares for their own homes or to pursue other hobbies, Krenov worked hard on his own designs for cabinets or on his assigned projects. These after-hours pieces included his first wall cabinets, a candlestick (which caught the eye of Malmsten and led to his choosing Krenov for a piece that involved difficult carved panels) and a number of other small works that served to hone his skills and nurture his design practice outside of the prescribed designs of the school.
Figure 9.11: A photo of Krenov around the time of his graduation from Malmsten’s Verkstadsskola in 1959. The small sailboat on Krenov’s lapel pin shows that even a dozen years away from Seattle and his work with the boats had not suppressed his love of sailing. Photo courtesy of the Krenov family.
Years later, Krenov fondly wrote about one of his cohorts, Raimundo Estrems (whom Krenov called Ramón), a Spaniard whose background was in pre-industrial furniture construction and luthiery. Krenov was a witness at Ramón’s wedding, which took place during a lunch break one day during school; the students were hardly able to take a day off from their schooling, and even an event like a wedding had to be shoehorned into the school’s daily proceedings. It was Ramón who showed Krenov his wooden bodied planes and how he tuned and used them. This introduction, alongside an old Norwegian book he remembered reading in the office at the Malmsten school, were formative in Krenov’s adoption and championing of the wooden handplane as his preferred woodworking instrument. While in school, Krenov made his own handplane, looking to modify the ergonomics of the tool to a form he preferred. In subsequent years, Krenov would make hundreds of planes, and later referred to the tool as “the cabinetmaker’s violin,” indicative of his consideration that the tool was at the forefront of his approach and enjoyment of woodwork.
It is hard to overstate the school’s importance to Krenov’s career; many years later, his teaching and lecturing approach, in addition to his cabinetmaking practice, would be deeply shaped by Malmsten’s own approach. His charge against Malmsten, that he was an authoritarian or difficult teacher, would come back as a critique often levied against Krenov’s own approach to teaching, and his future blend of uncompromising and lofty ideals with technical education also came to mirror Malmsten’s.
“He was very strict – in one sense he was despotic,” Krenov remembered in 2004. “In another sense he was a purist in the sense that there was no compromise as to fine workmanship, as to a good eye, good hands – that sort of thing.”
Katherine finished her college midterms this week, drove home and made her biggest batch of Soft Wax 2.0 yet. It is now up for sale in her etsy.com store. Bean, shown above, is always happy to put on his “please-buy-my-mom’s-wax-so-I-can-have-treats” face. Note: This is always his face.
This is the finish I use on my chairs. Katherine cooks it up here in the machine room using a waterless process. She then packages it in a tough glass jar with a metal screw-top lid. She applies her hand-designed label to each lid, boxes up the jars and ships them in a durable cardboard mailer. The money she makes from wax helps her make ends meet at college. Instructions for the wax are below.
Dividers & Posters
We are (I think) keeping up with divider production. We have a big batch of dividers in the store now with another big batch in the mail that will arrive in the warehouse Monday. We have ironed out all the production hiccups with our Type 2 Dividers, and we are just about to dive into a fresh set of problems with our first pour of our Crucible Planing Stop this month.
We also have a good stock of our “Family Tree of Chairs” letterpress posters in both green and black ink. This is our final run with this design. So if you want one, buy one or forever hold your comments. These posters are $33, which is a very nice price for posters of this quality. They are printed on heavyweight cotton paper via letterpress, a mechanical process that creates a delightfully tactile print.
Instructions for Soft Wax 2.0 Soft Wax 2.0 is a safe finish for bare wood that is incredibly easy to apply and imparts a beautiful low luster to the wood.
The finish is made by cooking raw, organic linseed oil (from the flax plant) and combining it with cosmetics-grade beeswax and a small amount of a citrus-based solvent. The result is that this finish can be applied without special safety equipment, such as a respirator. The only safety caution is to dry the rags out flat you used to apply before throwing them away. (All linseed oil generates heat as it cures, and there is a small but real chance of the rags catching fire if they are bunched up while wet.)
Soft Wax 2.0 is an ideal finish for pieces that will be touched a lot, such as chairs, turned objects and spoons. The finish does not build a film, so the wood feels like wood – not plastic. Because of this, the wax does not provide a strong barrier against water or alcohol. If you use it on countertops or a kitchen table, you will need to touch it up every once in a while. Simply add a little more Soft Wax to a deteriorated finish and the repair is done – no stripping or additional chemicals needed.
Soft Wax 2.0 is not intended to be used over a film finish (such as lacquer, shellac or varnish). It is best used on bare wood. However, you can apply it over a porous finish, such as milk paint.
APPLICATION INSTRUCTIONS (VERY IMPORTANT): Applying Soft Wax 2.0 is so easy if you follow the simple instructions. On bare wood, apply a thin coat of soft wax using a rag, applicator pad, 3M gray pad or steel wool. Allow the finish to soak in about 15 minutes. Then, with a clean rag or towel, wipe the entire surface until it feels dry. Do not leave any excess finish on the surface. If you do leave some behind, the wood will get gummy and sticky.
The finish will be dry enough to use in a couple hours. After a couple weeks, the oil will be fully cured. After that, you can add a second coat (or not). A second coat will add more sheen and a little more protection to the wood.
Soft Wax 2.0 is made in small batches in Kentucky using a waterless process. Each glass jar contains 8 oz. of soft wax, enough for at least two chairs.
