Lost Art Press

Thinking Like 1987 Again

Posted on by Lost Art Press
A newly restored 1949 Smith-Corona Silent from Unplug Typewriter Co.

The first writing class I took at Northwestern’s journalism school – “B-01 Basic Writing” – was intended to weed out about one-third of the students. You had to make a “B” in the course or you were thrown out. 

The class was intentionally boot camp-ish. And there were a variety of infractions that would result in an “F” on your day’s work, such as misspelling a proper noun. (I will never misspell “Nicaragua” again.)

Perhaps the most dastardly detail of the class was that you were required to type everything on manual typewriters in the writing lab. It was Spring 1987 when I took that class. And electric (even Selectric) typewriters were common, and dedicated word processors were in the writing labs for the advanced students.

Every screw, lever and corner of the machine has been chemically cleaned and reassembled.

A lot of my fellow students were freaked about the manuals. Plus how to use correcting fluid. And moans such as, “Where is the ‘1’ key? My machine is missing that key!”

Working on a manual was the only advantage I had in the class. For the first 20 years of my life, everything I wrote was on my manual typewriter, which had been handed down to me by my mother. I knew the machine inside and out. I had to repair the thing, oil the thing. Clean it to keep it working, especially the platen. And change the ribbon, of course. 

I didn’t like electric typewriters. They made a hum like a bug zapper, and every time I brushed a key accidentally I’d jump in my seat. I needed a typewriter that required effort to use. And was quiet.

I have never done well in institutions. But this grade meant everything to me.

I barely passed Basic Writing with a B-, the absolute lowest grade that allowed me to continue in school. And I often attribute my love of manuals to be the reason I didn’t get a C or worse.

This week I took delivery of an amazing piece of work that has brought a lot of emotions to the fore. It’s a completely restored 1949 Smith-Corona Silent. A beautiful and compact piece of insane engineering.

The machine was completely rebuilt by Meagan Syata of the Unplug Typewriter Co. I have been following her work on Instagram for a while. And at some point our paths crossed. Her husband is a woodworker, and they live in Hope, Arkansas, my home state. We worked out a trade (I think I got the best part of the deal) – one typewriter in exchange for a huge pile of books.

It’s just… perfect.

The typewriter showed up yesterday, and I cannot take my eyes or hands off of it. It looks and works like it is new from the factory. And after reading about and watching everything that Meagan does to these machines, I am not surprised.

This typewriter is going to get used. I hate writing notes and short letters by hand. My handwriting is terrible. I’m a much better typist. 

I doubt I’ll ever write a book using it. But who knows? I’ve done stupider things (such as our letterpress version of “Roman Workbenches.”)

To be honest, I don’t have romantic notions about using a manual typewriter. I don’t do detective cosplay, and I’m not a “His Girl Friday” reenactor. Like my handplanes and saws, this is a tool. And knowing how to use all the tools is part of my DNA.

As a writer with a long history with these machines, it’s nice to have one of these back in my possession.

If you have any interest at all in these old machines, do check out Meagan’s store. I am incredibly impressed. Plus, if you buy one, you might just save an old typewriter from getting cut up so its keys can be turned into jewelry.

— Christopher Schwarz

Even the case. Everything works smoothly – as if my grandfather bought it new in 1949 then never touched it.

For Sale: Bog 7-stick Comb-back Chair

Posted on by Lost Art Press

This seven-stick comb-back chair is built from a 2,000-year-old oak tree that was preserved in a Polish bog and recently harvested. The wood, which is remarkable and difficult to photograph, varies from charcoal black to a beautiful olive to a warm chestnut brown.

This chair is one of my newer designs; it uses a four-piece arm (for stability) and a thin shoe, which streamlines the look by removing visual bulk from the arm. It also is one of the most comfortable chairs I make.

This chair is set up for general use. The back leans 12° off the seat, and the seat is tilted 3°, so the back leans 15° off the floor. The seat is 16-3/4″ above the floor, which is a good height for most sitters. Overall, the chair is 38-1/2″ tall and there is 19″ between the arms. 

Like all my chairs, the joints are assembled with hide glue and oak wedges, so the joints are strong but can be easily repaired by future generations. The bog oak is finished with a home-cooked linseed oil/wax finish that has no poisonous solvents. The finish offers low protection, but it is easy to reapply as needed (with no special skills or tools) by the owner.

Purchasing the Chair

This chair is being sold via silent auction. (I’m sorry but the chair cannot be shipped outside the U.S.) If you wish to buy the chair, send an email to lapdrawing@lostartpress.com before 3 p.m. (Eastern) on Tuesday, Jan. 17. In the email please use the subject line “Chair Sale” and include your:

  • First name and last name
  • U.S. shipping address
  • Daytime phone number (this is for the trucking quote only)
  • Your bid (don’t forget this…)

Shipping options: You are welcome to pick up the chair here in Covington, Ky., and also get a free yardstick and pencil. I am happy to deliver the chair personally for free within 100 miles of Cincinnati, Ohio. Or we can ship it to you via LTL. The cost varies (especially these days), but it is usually between $200 and $500.

One last note: I bought about half of this bog oak boule with a friend (hi, Andy!). I estimate I have enough wood for about five or six more bog oak stick chairs. So there will be more in the future. However, I cannot say exactly when. The wood is quite difficult to work, so I have to space these chairs out a bit to give myself a break.

However, I will say that the extra effort is worth it. I wish I could afford to keep one of these chairs for myself. The wood is stunning.

— Christopher Schwarz

Coming Soon (in English): Jögge Sunqvist’s ‘Karvsnitt’

Posted on by fitz

The title of Jögge Sundqvist’s latest book, “Karvsnitt: Skära mönster i täljda föremål” translates from Swedish (per Google) as “Carved Cut: Cut patterns in carved objects”; with Jögge’s help, we’ll come up with a snappier English title once I’m done flowing in the text and tweaking the layout.

That’s what’s keeping me busy right now. Translator Alice Olsson has been working with Jögge during the last six months or so to get the English text right, and I’m now doing my best to get it to fit the colorful design from the Swedish publisher, Natur & Kultur. It seems to take English speakers more words to say the same thing – so making sure all the text aligns with the relevant images is my primary challenge.

Other than a little nipping and tucking to take care of that fitting, I haven’t really begun editing; I should be ready to dive into that by the end of next week (for which I’ll have expert help from Peter Follansbee as needed for any new-to-me terms). But I am reading as I go along, and I’m excited we’ll soon be ready to share this book with you. Jögge makes it sound simple (with a little practice of course) to make these beautiful pieces.

It builds on the techniques presented in “Slöjd in Wood” (though this book stands on its own), with 15 projects that range from simple (key fobs, knife handles) to more advanced projects (boxes, combs) – but the real magic is in the decorative techniques. You’ll learn how to design and create incised and painted patterns that are rooted in the Swedish craft tradition of making everyday objects into art.

We also hope to replicate the cover half-wrap (as well as the rest of the production values, which are in line with our own – sewn bindings, headbands, good paper, sturdy cover and the like), and have a copy with our printer right now to weigh in on that (we do need it to be affordable as well as beautifully made).

I’ll have more to share (of course) as we get closer to publication – and that won’t be too long from now!

– Fitz

p.s. We also have Derek Jones’s “Cricket Tables” manuscript in house; Kara Uhl is chasing down some images for that book, and it’s in the batter’s circle. Also in 2023 (so far) will be my Dutch tool chest book and Chris’s “American Peasant,” as well as the second issue of “The Stick Chair Journal.”

Follansbee Carving Class: Registration Open

Posted on by fitz

A quick reminder that registration is now open for Peter Follansbee’s April 17-20 class at the storefront: Carving Oak – 17th-century Style. (Click the link for more info, and to register.)

If you have general questions about our classes, see our new Classes at the Storefront page.

– Fitz

Get to Know Black Bison Wax

Posted on by Lost Art Press
Black bison wax over acrylic paint,

I use colored waxes quite a lot in my finishing, especially the darker colors. I’m partial to Liberon’s Black Bison Paste Wax, but that’s because it is the only brand I’ve ever used.

Colored waxes are a secret weapon when it comes to muting a particularly loud or brash color. They also add a depth to many finishes by adding a second hue to the overall piece. 

Many antique restorers use black wax to add age to a finish or a repair, and it’s great for that. But that’s not my goal with black wax. I hope the photos here will explain it better than words.

First, ignore the sales copy about the stuff. 

“(I)t feeds, polishes and helps to prevent wood drying out…” No, it doesn’t.

“Giving a highly lustrous and hardwearing finish…” It actually gives a low-luster finish. And, like all waxes, isn’t particularly durable.

“Well-known for its quality and pleasant, distinctive aroma…” Uhhh, this stuff smells like a 1950s cleaning solution for septic tanks. It is not pleasant. But the smell dissipates.

A comb-back chair with only acrylic paint. No black wax.
The same chair after a coat of colored wax.

Here’s what it really does. It’s a fast-drying sludge. Pick a color. I use “Dark Oak” and “Tudor Oak” and cannot tell the difference. When you use it on raw wood, such as oak, it will darken the oak and collect in the wood’s open pores. When used on raw closed-pore woods, such as pine, it generally looks like a smeary mess (a test board will confirm this).

I typically use it on top of a finish, either shellac or paint. When used over shellac, it will reduce the brashness of the new shellac, and the wax will collect in the pores of the wood, giving the piece a bit of dimension.

I adore the combination of mahogany, shellac and black wax. That’s what I use on virtually all of my campaign pieces.

When used over paint, the black wax gets a little smeary. It will collect in small voids left in the paint. And it will buff off unevenly on the paint. This is a good thing. A bright new paint finish can look like you dipped your furniture in Plasti-Dip. The uneven absorption of the wax mutes the single color.

Application

The stuff dries quickly, so I recommend you work small areas, about 12″ x 12″. Wipe the wax on generously with a rag so you can push it into the pores and small voids (wear protective gloves). Keep wiping the wax until you have a thin, consistent coat. Then immediately begin wiping it off with a clean, coarse rag (I use towels with a Huck weave – basically surgical towels). Keep wiping until you cannot remove any more. Then move on to the next section of the project.

If you botch a section, simply apply more wax. The wax’s solvent will dissolve the hard layer and you can wipe again. Or dab some mineral spirits on a rag and you can rub the surface to remove thin layers of wax until you get the effect you want.

If at any time you hate the finish, flood the surface with mineral spirits and rub hard. Most of the wax will come off.

A recent test board, The raw colors are on the right. The colors on the left show the appearance after a coat of the colored wax.

Test Boards

Making test boards is the only way to ensure you will get the effect you want. I’ve used the wax for decades and still do a test board before I start smearing the stuff on anything.

A tin of this stuff lasts for many years, so don’t be put off by the high price (about $35-$40 here in the U.S.). Don’t be put off by the smell (we call it the “stinky janitor” wax because it smells like some cleaning fluid from my childhood). And don’t be put off by the bison part. I think there’s hardly any bison in the wax.

– Christopher Schwarz