Lost Art Press

Not all pieces of Campaign-style furniture require hours of insetting 30 pieces of flush hardware. In fact, with some pieces you can install all the hardware in about 10 minutes.

I call this stuff “strap-on” furniture. The brasses are applied to the surface of the piece. No wacky mortise in three axes. Just nail in four pins and you are done.

I’ve seen a number of old pieces that feature this proud hardware, though I have no idea if the brasses were original to the piece. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to think that some antique dealers could have applied the straps and corners to dress up the piece.

I recently finished this traveling bookcase, which carries Lost Art Press books to shows, and I decided to give it the strap-on treatment. I purchased eight smallish corner guards from Ansaldi & Sons (corner ornament, item #5293, price $2.50 each) and applied them on Monday using a hammer.

Confession: After spending a week inlaying more than 30 pieces of shaped hardware into a recent campaign chest, nailing some straps onto this bookcase was fun. And the results aren’t bad.

— Christopher Schwarz

Smythe disclaimer: I paid full retail for the $20 worth of hardware on the corners.

Finish details: The finish on the piece is one coat of garnet shellac, then a glaze of brown Minwax stain to fill the pores and then two more coats of shellac.

While the raw leather adds a nice Conan-like smell to my shop, I’ve got to finish the legs, stretchers and backrests for the Roorkhee chairs.

My finish of choice: garnet shellac – Tiger Flakes from Tools for Working Wood, to be specific. I love the stuff. It mixes like a martini, is easy to spray and gives me just the right color for vintage stuff.

Of course, spraying shellac always attracts the attention of the new neighbors behind us.

“It’s OK,” I’ll yell. “You can eat this stuff. They put it on strawberries and apples and pills and…”

The neighbors go inside and start closing their windows.

I guess that’s what you get for building a new house in the drainage swamp behind our house.

When I spray lots of pieces like this, I string up a clothesline between a tree and basketball goal; then I hang the parts on some wire hangers. This is how I learned to spray doors while working at the ThermaTru door company. Of course, I don’t have an oven to bake on the finish like I did at ThermaTru (that’s OK, shellac dries fast.)

And there was one more big advantage to spraying at ThermaTru – birds wouldn’t crap upon your work. The inside of my campaign chest still has some poo shadows.

— Christopher Schwarz

Yesterday I went to our local Tandy Leather store and got a crash course in leatherwork from one of the guys at the store who makes gear and armor for re-enactors. Yup, I’ve decided to make the leather seats for the Roorkhee chairs from scratch.

Well, almost scratch, I didn’t raise the cows or murder them.

There is a surprising amount of overlap between the crafts of leather and wood. Sharp tools. Shaping curves using moisture. Dyes. Finishes. Metal hardware. After all, in both crafts we’re dealing with a fibrous, natural material. One just happens to have roots. The other one moos.

I’ve done some basic leatherwork before – covering an ottoman with pigskin, recovering spring seats for side chairs etc. But nothing this involved. But it looks like fun and these sling seats are a good beginner project.

I bought three unfinished skins, which should be more than enough for two chairs. I wanted to have enough to make a few mistakes. And I want to make some Anarchist underwear – whipstitching and rivets all around.

— Christopher Schwarz

With a mighty (OK, a wussy) whuppin’, I assembled two frames for these Roorkhee chairs. All in all, they aren’t bad. Only one joint out of the two chairs keeps popping out. I’ll fix its wagon in the morning.

Tomorrow I’ll clean them up and finish them with shellac. Then it’s off to the upholstery person, whoever that is. I still haven’t been able to get a shop to return my phone calls. Perhaps I need a sexier voice.

After I got the first chair frame assembled, I put down my dead-blow mallet for a minute because I was stunned by something I hadn’t seen before. The frame is the spitting image of an Egyptian bed from one of Geoffrey Killen’s books on Egyptian furniture and woodworking tools. I cannot put my finger on the book this evening. (Note to self: Cane the librarian yet again.)

In the meantime, I was amused to receive a poem about Roorkhee chairs and the J Lo “too much junk in the trunk” problem that some of us suffer from. I will warn you, there are a couple adult words in this ode, so don’t read it aloud in Sunday School, OK?

— Christopher Schwarz

Madam, over here is a chair called a Roorkhee,
not hard to pronounce, rhymes with dorky.
Roam the world and sit unflappable,
‘cuz the damn thing is quite collapsible.

This chair is not for me it would seem,
I am much too broad ‘cross the beam.

Yes, madam, he said with a sigh,
I can see you are really quite wide.

These curves I have are my problem,
Too much here, there, and a big bottom.

But, madam you must not despair!
The Roorkhee is your kind of chair.
For you it is eminently suitable
it has the quality of being scootchable!
Take a seat and alack and alas,
the Roorkhee can handle your ass !

—  Etendu du Fesse