Lost Art Press

Editor’s Note: Michele Pietryka-Pagán is the French-to-English translator on the three-person team dedicated to bringing André-Jacob Roubo’s work to life. We have Michele, along with Don Williams and Philippe LaFargue, to thank for “With All Precision Possible: Roubo on Furniture” and “To Make as Perfectly as Possible: Roubo on Marquetry.”

These volumes are no longer in stock as we’re making room for new deluxe editions of each. The deluxe edition of “With All Precision Possible” will be for sale later this month and we plan to offer a deluxe edition of “To Make as Perfectly as Possible” soon.

Michele and Philippe have also completed the translations of more volumes of Roubo focusing on interior carpentry, garden carpentry and carriages. (You can read more about that on Don’s blog, here.)

Michele Pietryka-Pagán grew up in Vermont, the eldest of six children, born to native Vermonters.

“My parents were children of the depression, and so we grew up with a heavy dose of ‘Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without,’” Michele says. “That’s a common Vermont philosophy. My parents were also educated, and they wanted all of us to be educated, too. There was always a subtext of do-it-yourself, and that included putting yourself through college, so we did.”

Michele’s dad was a mechanical engineer who liked to, and knew how to, fix most anything. In the early 1960s, Michele’s parents bought a 19th-century  house in Bennington, Vermont. It had no kitchen cabinets, so Michele’s dad drove to the lumberyard, bought lumber and taught himself how to make the base and upper cabinets. It was her first exposure to home renovation, helping her mom to wallpaper the old, horsehair plaster walls.

Michele’s mom was a teacher who stayed home to care for the family until Michele’s senior year of high school. When Michele was young, her mom taught her hand skills – sewing, embroidery and knitting.

“She taught me everything she could so maybe I would survive the next depression,” she says. “One of my earliest memories is getting a set of seven tea towels for Christmas one year, one for every day of the week, with a different motif to embroider on each one.”

As she grew up, Michele bought more and more complex patterns. By high school, she was able to make her own prom dress, and by the time she graduated from college, she made a friend’s wedding dress.

While Michele was growing up, her dad changed careers and became a high school industrial arts teacher and, later, a mechanical engineering professor at Vermont Technical College. Because of her dad’s position, Michele’s tuition at the University of Vermont was free. There she learned most of what she knows about textile science, in addition to perfecting her hand skills with fabric – turning 2D pieces of fabric into 3D garments.

“I had a real classical training in dressmaking and design,” she says.

Some of it she already knew – how to sew a straight seam and put in a zipper. She had whole semesters where she just studied tailoring or fabric draping. She spent two semesters studying textile science. She also learned how to make her own mannequin, which later came in handy when making mannequins for garments and costumes in museum exhibits. She graduated in 1973.

“Then, of course, the Bicentennial happened in 1976,” she says. “If you talk to a lot of museum folks of my generation today, we all got bitten really hard by the historic preservation movements that came about when the bicentennial celebration happened.”

In the mid-1980s, Michele earned her master’s degree in textile studies at the University of Connecticut. It was during this time that she met her husband, John Pagán, who was in the U.S. Naval Submarine Force. They married in 1984. Together they traveled up and down the East Coast, following John’s assignments both at sea, and at the Pentagon. In 1987 they moved to Washington, D.C., where they lived on and off for nearly 30 years.

Conservation & translation

While living in Washington, Michele and her husband hosted international students, researchers and writers. They had a particularly good experience with a young man from France, who stayed for a couple of summers. In part because of this, Michele began studying French in the evenings through a program with the U.S. Department of Agriculture.

Michele also studied textile conservation at the Smithsonian’s Museum Conservation Institute, and became one of their Research Associates. While there she helped a senior textile conservator with a small French translation project.

Don Williams, who was the senior furniture conservator at the Smithsonian’s Museum Conservation Institute, heard about her translation work. He had a couple of books about French carpentry written by an 18th-century woodworker named André Roubo that he wanted translated. He asked Michele if she’d be interested in volunteering.

“I naively said, ‘Sure! Why not?’,” she says. “For the next seven years, while most people were watching some sitcom on TV at night, I was sitting at my big dining room table surrounded by six or seven French-English dictionaries, a couple of them dating back to the 18th century,” she says.

Language changes over time. When Michele would get stuck trying to find an appropriate word in a 20th-century dictionary, she moved on to her 19th-century dictionaries, and then to her 18th-century dictionaries. She worked one sentence at a time: one paragraph, no matter how long it was, was always one sentence.

First, Michele would read the paragraph-long sentence and circle all the words she didn’t know. In the beginning, this ended up being about every third word because she’s not a woodworker nor a native French speaker.

“… So then I had to translate word by word, each word that I didn’t know,” she says. “I had to find the word in one of those dictionaries and then break up the paragraph into smaller sentences. That alone was a challenge because if I chopped up a paragraph into, say, three sentences, then I had to go back, after the translation, and see if the whole thing made any sense.”

With time, the work became much faster. Today, Michele can look at one of Roubo’s French paragraphs and typically type it into English, having to look up hardly anything.

“That’s how much I have improved over 18 years of doing this,” she says. “And now, of course, if there is a word that I don’t know, I just use Reverso. And the beauty of it is that it not only tells you what the word is, but it also puts it into context for you. So that’s really been lovely. But my French conversation still stinks!”

Michele and Philippe LaFargue, a native French speaker, work on the translations.

“My translated text then goes to Don, who adds contemporary information for today’s woodworkers,” she says. “Roubo was a master woodworker at the end of the 18th century in France. Some of that information translates to today, but not all of it. Don’s image of the project from the very beginning was to make this information as tangible and accessible as possible. Then the work goes to Philippe, who makes sure that my translation works with what Don is trying to say, for American woodworkers.”

Still learning – & teaching

John, Michele’s husband, retired in 2015. In May 2016, they bought and began restoring an 1825 farmhouse in Dorset, Vermont. It’s something Michele and John are well-accustomed to, having bought and restored four old townhouses while living on Capitol Hill. “All the homes on Capitol Hill are old, and they ALL needed a new furnace!”

Michele and a neighbor recently spent about five years researching 42 homes in their little village of East Dorset. In July 2025, the Vermont Division for Historic Preservation met and reviewed their application, calling for East Dorset to be named a historic district. It was approved.

“It was a long haul but definitely worth it,” she says.

More recently, Michele has been active with the Vermont Sampler Initiative.

“It’s a national search for 19th-century schoolgirl needlework samplers,” she says. “We’re trying to find them, document them, photograph them, analyze them and research the genealogy of all the girls who made these samplers and put them online. It gives me goosebumps. Nobody has ever done this before! Here we are, in the 21st century, and nobody has ever looked at a schoolgirl sampler, read her name, her birthdate, maybe her town all stitched there, and asked questions. Who were her parents? What kind of people were they? Did they have any role in making this country that we call the USA?”

Since November 2022, Michele and her team have found and documented more than 770 Vermont samplers. In 2025, in cooperation with the Vermont 250th Commemoration of the start of the American Revolution, Michele is coordinating a driving tour of 20 locations all over Vermont where visitors can stop and see exhibits of 19th-century schoolgirl samplers that all tie back to the American Revolution in some way.

In addition to research, for the past five summers Michele also served as a presenter at the Bennington Museum’s Summer Teachers Institute. There she teaches teachers seeking additional accreditation about how to use museum artifacts in their lesson plans.

“There’s nothing more gratifying than having an audience full of teachers, because when you’re teaching teachers, they are absorbing every single word you say,” she says.

Whether it’s translating, researching or teaching, Michele is all in. Case in point: She tore up part of her own meadow and planted flax, wanting to know more about how our ancestors planted, harvested, spun and wove it into linen. She brought the flax into her classes, along with different kinds of fiber for the teachers to observe under a microscope.

“This gives my life new meaning,” she says. “It’s a new chapter. I’m still really happy to be associated with Don and the Roubo project. What’s really special about working with Don is that he has so much respect for women: His wife and two daughters have raised him right!  Occasionally, Philippe will call from France – we have never actually met – but I can tell he’s a really great guy, too. So, this has been a truly wonderful project to be part of.”

The Roubo project is also giving back.

“My husband and I decided to use some of the royalty monies from the sales of the Roubo books to start an endowment at the Bennington Museum,” Michele says. “The endowment pays for one high school student per year to spend the summer working with the staff at the museum, for about eight weeks. We are into the fifth year of summer interns whom we have funded, and all we ask is that the student write us a little synopsis of what they did at the museum all summer. Since we don’t have children, this is our part of ‘touching the future,’ as Sally Ride, the astronaut, said.”

Despite living different lives, there’s commonality in Michele and Don’s work. In working on the translations, Michele says she was able to help Don better convey the antique processes and mindset for creating wooden furniture.

“Don and I are both conservators,” she says. “We both believe in historic preservation. We both believe in transmitting our cultural heritage from the past and making it accessible to today’s students. That’s why I enjoy making textile history from the past accessible to today’s teachers and their students. Don and I did the same thing in just two different specialties. We’re both educators. We’re both passing on information from the past to today’s and tomorrow’s students, teachers and historic preservationists.”

— Kara Gebhart Uhl