We now stock American-made Lost Art Press hats from Bayside Apparel, a Tacoma, Wash., company. These hats are navy blue, unstructured and feature our dividers embroidered in white thread with white piping on the bill.
The hats are adjusted with a steel clasp and fabric tab. These are 100-percent cotton caps and are the nicest American-made hats we could find. They are a bit more expensive than our previous caps, but we bought a large quantity of these Bayside-brand hats to get the price down somewhat. As a result, this hat costs $17 – or $1 more than our earlier Chinese-made hats.
They are available for immediate shipment and can be purchased here from our store.
When I design furniture and use photographs of other pieces as a guide, I have to be careful. While photos are great for transmitting form, they often obscure details, texture or even the piece’s true color.
My brain also tends to fill in all these missing details with workmanship that is too perfect, too precious or just wrong. It’s like using a “paint bucket” tool in a drawing program instead of a piece of graphite pencil on paper.
This Campaign-style tea caddy that I studied yesterday at Tucker Payne Antiques in Charleston, S.C., is a good example of this phenomenon. I’ve seen photos of hundreds of caddies, but nothing beats spending time with the real thing.
The outside of the chest is pretty much as-expected. It’s when you lift the lid that the fun begins. The six hinged lids are – for me – what makes this piece special. I like the way the light plays over the frame-and-panel structures. And still after about 150 years of service, the lids fit well and move smoothly.
As you get closer, however, you discover that these lids are not made using frame-and-panel construction. Each lid is one piece of wood and all the details were carved or scratched into the work. This is straightforward work with a chisel and scratch stock – it would be a ridiculous amount of work to make 24 26 tiny mortise-and-tenon joints. And really quite unnecessary, as the smooth action of the lids will attest.
This is the kind of detail that in-person examination reveals and is why I’ll drive many hours to see it.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. I’ve been blogging about some of the other Campaign pieces I’ve encountered during this trip on my blog at Popular Woodworking Magazine. You can read those entries here.
“It is worth noting on the Platte one may sometimes see the shattered wrecks of ancient claw-footed tables, well waxed and rubbed, or massive bureaus of carved oak. These, some of them no doubt the relics of ancestral prosperity in the colonial time, must have encountered strange vicissitudes. Brought, perhaps from England; then, with the declining fortunes of their owners, borne across the Alleghanies to the wilderness of Ohio or Kentucky; then to Illinois or Missouri; and now at last fondly stowed away in the family wagon for the interminable journey to Oregon. But the stern privations of the way are little anticipated. The cherished relic is soon flung out to scorch and crack upon the hot prairie.”
— Francis Parkman, “The Oregon Trail, Works, Vol. 12,” (Little, Brown, 1910) page 103
While visiting blacksmith Peter Ross’s shop last week I couldn’t resist asking him to make me two pairs of dividers that are dead ringers for the dividers shown in Joseph Moxon’s “Mechanick Exercises” (1678) and the logo of Lost Art Press.
The dividers are, like all of Peter’s work, stunning. Their movement is smooth and sufficiently stiff. If they do loosen up with use, that can be retightened by striking the ball at the top with a flat-face hammer with the dividers resting on an anvil.
The dividers are $125 each if you are interested in obtaining some for your tool chest.
Peter has also been working on some hardware for “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest.” Shown are the hinges, which Peter designed to merge parts of a chest hinge and a butt hinge. I’m going to install them on the chest I’m building at home now and see how they function. Next up: Peter is going to make a crab lock for the chest.
OK, if you will excuse me I have to go make some more money to pay for this stuff.
Though some books decry the act, the archaeological record is clear: Woodworkers used their tool chests as sawbenches.
Many tool chests I’ve examined have edges that have been scarred by saw teeth. And as a woodworker, I’ve also felt the urge to saw upon the lid of my tool chest. OK, confession time: I’ve done it.
The only real problem with using your chest as a sawbench comes if your lid has a traditional raised-panel lid, such as the one on my current tool chest. The problem is that the raised field of the panel leaves some portion of your work unsupported, hanging out and vibrating like crazy when you saw.
The solution, according to Australian woodworker Phil Spencer, is the “Spratling Bead.”
This feature, named after Spencer’s grandfather, Lindsay Spratling, adds a raised bead between the lid and the dust seal that helps support work when you saw it on top of the chest. It also will help support work when you clamp it on top of the chest – something I do all the time.
Spratling was a carpenter and later a woodwork teacher at the former Caulfield Tech in Melbourne.
“I remember when he had his apprentices building their tool boxes he would have them incorporate two raised hardwood strips into the lids running along the edges of the lid,” Spencer wrote in an e-mail. “The idea of the strips was to sit proud of the raised panel and gave the owner something solid to rest a plank on so it could be cut, if the plank was rested on the raised panel it would usually rock.”
I must admit that the Spratling beads are quite clever. And if you think you might saw anything on the top of your tool chest, they would make an excellent addition.
