Bean dislikes soft wax; it means Katherine is busy not petting him.
My daughter Katherine has posted a small batch of Soft Wax 2.0 in her store. (The lipstick maker’s switch crapped out, so she had to use a nacho cheese maker, which mixes smaller amounts…for reasons we fail to understand. Who doesn’t want to make 8 gallons of nacho cheese at a time?!)
We love this finish. I use on my chairs and casework; Megan uses it for chest innards. I adore it. Katherine cooks it up here in the machine room using the raw ingredients of yellow beeswax, raw linseed oil and a little bit of citrus solvent. 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. You can watch a video of how to use the wax here.
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 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. (I have it on our kitchen countertops and love it.) 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 Covington, Kentucky. Each glass jar contains 8 oz. of soft wax, enough for about five chairs.
My stick chair, patiently waiting in the shadows for its next victim.
When I came to “A Vampire Chair,” while copy editing Issue No. 1 of The Stick Chair Journal, I side-eyed my own stick chair in my house. Without even reading the first sentence, I thought, There’s more than one?
Turns out the story in The Stick Chair Journal is about a fabled chair in Tennessee that was broken apart to murder its owner and, once repaired, begins acting odd. Although my chair was never broken apart to murder anyone, my entire family insists it’s hell-bent on trying. And I’m to blame.
In late 2004, I was an editor at Popular Woodworking Magazine, and in between copy editing, they’d throw me into woodworking classes. Given that this was almost 20 years ago, the details are a bit fuzzy, but I do remember I got married in October 2004, and soon after I returned from my honeymoon I was building a Welsh stick chair with Don Weber and several other editors at the magazine in a week-long class. I remember Chris being particularly excited about this opportunity, and I knew it was a big deal.
So I tried to soak in everything Don said. And not just about building chairs. I was going to start doing yoga every morning on a beautiful rug in a stream of sunlight! I was going to start making my own lemon curd! I even considered wearing vests.
I was also a nervous wreck. I was 25 years old, had majored in magazine journalism, and was finally getting used to rabbets being spelled with an “e.” But everyone was more than kind; I had a lot of help, and I built a stick chair.
I’m pretty sure I was behind everyone else in the class because I think Chris was done and helping me finish my chair when he told me I might want to break my edges a bit.
“No,” I said.
Why? I don’t know. I was a stupid stubborn 25-year-old. Or maybe it was because he had presented it as a choice instead of an order. Still, Chris was my boss, and to break up the awkwardness, I think I said something along the lines of, “I want it to look crisp,” as if I knew what that even meant/how Welsh stick chair edges were supposed to look/what I was even talking about.
Chris just let me be, which he always graciously does.
So I brought the chair home, which, looking at, y’all will probably criticize, but I was (quietly) proud of this chair. Crafting letters into sentences came naturally to me. Crafting wood into something sturdy and useful did not. And as young, broke newlyweds, this chair was, by far, one of the nicest, and most useful, pieces of furniture we owned. Even if it looked a little wonky.
My husband, Andy, and I painted the chair. (If you ever want to test a marriage early on, take two very different personality types, add a can of milk paint and paint a stick chair together. We are still married. I’ll leave it at that.)
Beforepainting, Andy asked if I wanted to break the edges a bit.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” I asked/yelled. “They look so good sharp! I want them crisp!”
I’m pretty sure I let out an exasperated sigh, as one does in your mid-20s, thinking no one understood me or my good taste.
My chair listened to my mulishness and responded in kind. It had no mercy.
It cut everyone it encountered.
Friends would come over and, looking at it, a bit perplexed, Andy would say, “Kara made that!” which was very kind and loving. And I swear the chair, in response, would magically beckon them over because the next thing I know, they would be touching it/sitting in it and then there would be blood and then I would be apologizing and getting them a Band-Aid.
But I was stubborn.
“You could still break the edges,” Andy said.
“Everyone is just sitting in it wrong,” I said.
Then we had kids.
First Sophie. Then two years later, twins, James and Owen. Once they were old enough to walk and talk, they didn’t call it The Vampire Chair. They called it The Evil Chair. Anytime they bumped into (or, as they claimed, the chair reached out and bit them), they carried on about how this chair was trying to kill them.
“It’s behind me, isn’t it.” – James
My kids, pointing out the scars my Vampire Chair has given them.
For a while, the Vampire/Evil Chair lived in our attic.
There are benefits to accidentally building a Vampire Chair:
1) If you ever find yourself parenting a 4-year-old and two 2-year-olds in a small home, and you are tired, and they are (always) not tired, you will eventually learn the only way you can keep them from (literally) swinging from the dining room chandelier is to put all the dining room chairs up on the dining room table when not in use. We did this for over a year. Because our kids refused to engage with my Vampire Chair, if all our dining room chairs had been Vampire Chairs, we wouldn’t have had to go to this trouble.
I wasn’t lying.
2) We like to have people over and especially when you’re young and broke, seating is limited. We’d bring out everything we had – the random rusty folding chair in the garage, plastic outdoor chairs, pillows on the floor for cushions. Sometimes my Vampire Chair, which had gotten a bad rap, would sit empty. This would annoy me to no end and I’d usually sit in it to gently prove a point. (No garlic, I simply had a whole move down I made so I could sit without drawing any blood.) But every once in a while a friend or family member would visit and despite a still very-present scar on their skin they would, unafraid, make way for the Vampire Chair and settle in. Respect.
3) If no one is sitting in a Vampire Chair, you always have a place to put things – your coat, your bag, the mail etc.
If I’ve learned anything since accidentally building a Vampire Chair 20-plus years ago it’s that if something you love keeps biting, it’s easy to place blame. “The edges are fine – everyone just needs to be more careful. What were you thinking, wearing shorts?” But love doesn’t have to (nor should it mean) perfection. You can love something you created and admit you made (sometimes many) mistakes.
Also, does this mean I think you should always listen to what others tell you should do?
Nah.
But I do believe we’re all stupid stubborn 20-somethings and stupid stubborn 70-somethings. Real growth happens when we learn when to ignore advice and when to listen. Now in my 40s, I think that’s a lifelong thing.
(For what it’s worth, our Vampire Chair is no longer in the attic and it has stopped biting! Or, the edges have been broken finally. On flesh.)
I’m working on a future money-losing project in my spare time: a nice letterpress card that helps readers convert fractions to both decimals and metric measurements. Sure, you can make these conversions on your phone, but I prefer to see all the data at once, especially when trying to decide what size drill bit I need for a tricky peg.
Plus, it’s a fun graphic design project for that part of my brain that doesn’t get as much use these days.
As part of my research, I bought a bunch of old promotional posters. The things that salespeople would hand out to customers when they came to call. But my favorite find is this 1972 small slide chart from the Slide Chart Corp.
As the U.S. geared up to switch to the metric system, these sorts of calculators were everywhere. This one was a sample, made to show how you could get it customized with your company’s logo.
The slide chart makes 19 different calculations, plus has a graph that shows the difference between Fahrenheit and Celcius. It’s almost useful. It converts inches and centimeters, which isn’t quite what woodworkers need (I’d prefer inches to millimeters).
But it’s fun to play with, and I’ll keep it at my desk.
The best part is the little slide window that converts horsepower to metric horsepower. Are metric horses stronger? Look for yourself.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. I hope to have this letterpress card available for the holidays.
I have just finished this seven-stick comb-back chair, in 2,000-year-old bog oak, that is set up for dining or use as in an office. I’m offering it for sale here via silent auction. Details are below. First, some specifics on the chair.
This seven-stick chair is made from bog oak that is 2,000 years old that was excavated in Poland. The seat is 16-7/8” off the floor. The back sticks lean 9° off the seat. And the seat is pitched back about 4° off level. So this chair is nice for both dining and keyboarding. If the buyer wishes, I can trim the rear legs to increase the seat tilt. This will make the chair strike a balance between dining and relaxing.
For this chair, I pillowed the hands much like an old Welsh chair.
The chair is 39-1/4” tall. The seat is 20” wide with 19” between the arms.
All the wood is cut from one tree, but the color and texture varies throughout all the parts, which is part of the charm of this material.
All the joints are assembled with hide glue, which is easily repairable by future generations. The finish is a beeswax and linseed oil blend, which is free of toxic solvents and is also easily repairable.
The wood graduates in color from almost black to milk chocolate.
I’m selling this chair via a silent auction. To bid, send an email to lapdrawing@lostartpress.com before 3 p.m. (Eastern) on Wednesday, March 22. In the email, please use the subject line “March chair sale” and include your name, shipping address, phone number (this is used for a trucking quote only) and your bid. There is no minimum bid, and the highest bid wins. The winner will be contacted on Wednesday after the auction closes.
On shipping: You can pick up the chair at our storefront, or I will deliver it for free within 100 miles of Cincinnati. Otherwise, I can ship it via common carrier to addresses in the continental U.S. This usually costs between $200 and $300, depending on where you live.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. The next chair will be sold via a random drawing.
The stretchers are quite low on this chair, which adds to its stability and its old look.
The seat is one single plank. The dark front edge was close to the bark of the tree.
My personal apron, which has been to heck and back.
One of the best things we make, our Workshop Waist Apron, is back in stock. We have 500, so I hope they will last us a while.
The aprons are $50, which might seem like a lot of money for something you can buy at the home center for $5. I assure you that our waist apron has nothing in common with the home center product.
While developing our apron, I bought a bunch of aprons to try them out. The cheap ones lasted a few days. You can literally rip them apart without much effort.
The more tactical aprons were durable. But they were designed for carpenters who carry a 50’ tape and a framing nailer.
This apron is damn near perfect for woodworking. It’s lightweight. It breathes. It is reinforced in all the right places. And it’s not too big or too small. And unlike a full apron, you can wear ours in the summer without sweating your boobs off. This apron is the first thing I put on at the beginning of the day and the last thing to come off before I head upstairs to make dinner.
Of course, we make it in the USA from quality canvas. And, as mentioned in the headline, this run of aprons has been improved. We have added additional pencil pockets on the other side of the apron for left-handed woodworkers (or those who just love pencils). I don’t have a photo that shows the additional pockets (but I will get some of the improved aprons next week). Thank you lefties for your feedback on this.
As you can see from the photo of my apron above, this thing can take heaps of abuse and will last many years. You can order one here.
