To mark the launch of The Stick Chair Journal(coming in August 2022), we are giving away 400 Stick Chair Merit Badges to readers who have built a stick chair and can follow instructions.
This promotion ends when we run out of the merit badges or on Dec. 31, 2022, whichever comes first. (When the time comes, I’ll announce the end of the promotion on the blog and delete this blog entry.)
Here’s how to get your merit badge – one to a customer. Please read carefully.
Build a stick chair with your own hands. (Not a frame chair, ladderback chair, Windsor/Forest chair, IKEA chair, folding chair etc.) A genuine, vernacular stick chair. (Edit: A stool without a back is not a chair. A backstool, which is essentially a side chair, is indeed a chair. I deem that to be a “chair,” the thing needs a backrest.)
Take a picture and print it out on any paper.
Send a self-addressed, stamped envelope (SASE) to us with the picture of your stick chair. Here’s how to address the envelope:
Stick Chair Merit Badge Lost Art Press 837 Willard St. Covington, KY 41011
If you have never used an SASE, here how it works. There is an outside envelope addressed to us. A second envelope addressed to you that you put a stamp on. And a photo of your stick chair. Easy!
When we receive your envelope, we will add your photo to a cool collage I’m creating. Then we’ll slide a merit badge into your SASE, seal it and put it in the mailbox at Greer and 9th streets.
This is the *only* way to get a merit badge. You can’t buy one. You cannot twist our arms to accept an emailed photo. International readers are welcome to participate, but they’ll probably have to put a U.S. Global stamp on the SASE.
We are DIY people, right? You can figure this out without asking us to bend the rules, can’t you? Of course you can!
Please don’t send photos of 10 stick chairs and ask for 10 merit badges. They are one per customer. Please don’t ask our customer service people to do you a favor and mail you one. They can’t. Please don’t pester Megan to sneak you one. She won’t.
So put on your big-person britches, build a stick chair and earn your merit badge.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. Sorry if this post sounds condescending – the condescension is for the 1 percent. We have done promotions like this in the past where 99 percent of the participants follow instructions and have fun. The remaining 1 percent chap our hides asking for special treatment because “there are no sticks in my county” or “I have never seen an envelope” or “I’m a very important bossy pants, and you should send me one because of that.”
If you’ve ever wondered how a successful corporation can fall completely apart in just a few years, read on. I’ve watched a few of them do this – from the inside.
Here at Lost Art Press we will soon wrap up the second financial quarter of 2022, and our financial sheet shows our revenue is down 21 percent compared to this time in 2021. Why? We haven’t put out as many books this year because we don’t have strict deadlines with our authors.
Do we care that we are down 21 percent? No. Are we freaked? Not at all. Are we taking any action at all? Nope.
Here’s how John and I look at the business. Are we eating? Yes. Are we doing what we want to do every day? Yes. Are the people we work with happy? Yes (they tell us). Are we happy with the books, tools and apparel we are making? Yes. And is this decline something that will right itself during the next five years? Absolutely yes.
However, in the corporate publishing world, here’s how this problem plays out.
First, the publisher (me) is hauled before the suits (Bespokeus corruptus) and given two options: A) Resign or B) Hit your revenue target by the end of the fourth quarter (typically those targets are 20 percent higher than revenue from the previous year).
If I choose B, here is what I have to do:
Quickly boost revenue by selling inventory to bookstores at a discount. Here’s why that is a deathtrap. In corporate publishing, bookstores are allowed to return unsold inventory within two years for a full refund. So even if I boosted revenue this year (and saved my job), it could all fall apart in two years when bookstores start returning this discounted inventory (a very typical scenario).
In addition to boosting revenue, I need to cut costs to improve our profit margin. Why? If I don’t hit my revenue target but I do improve the profit margin, I could end up keeping my job because I brought in the same amount of money. How do I do this? The easy way is to slash production costs for books. One-third of our expenses are printing – let’s say that’s $1 million. If I moved printing to Korea, that would cut our printing costs to $500,000, and quality would actually stay the same or improve (Korea has a fantastic printing industry). If things get even worse, I can move printing to China and cut printing costs to $300,000 per year. Here’s the problem: There’s nowhere left to go after that. And you will never be able to afford to print in the U.S. again.
At my gauntlet session, the suits point out that our “point of sale” revenue is up a shocking 4,219 percent. (This is because we had an open day in the spring and we didn’t have any open days in 2021 because of the pandemic.) “Clearly this is where the growth is,” according to the suits. “Do more of that!” So we open the store every weekend, forcing me and Megan to work more hours and taking us away from making books. But it works! We double the “point of sale” revenue from $6,200 to $12,400 per year! In real terms, this money is meaningless to the total revenue picture.
[Megan’s Editor’s Note: At _my_ gauntlet session(s), the suits point out that I could stand to lose a staff member. That’s a huge savings! I refuse. A few months later, I’m the one who gets “lost.” Thank goodness. Now I’m found.]
As you can see, this is why I’d always choose A (resign) over B (gut the business). And then I’d start my own business (with a friend) that isn’t about growth. It’s about stability, making objects that are useful and that we are proud of. And it’s about living well.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. I’m not trying to get you to buy anything here – we are totally fine (I *wish* I were that clever of a marketer). Is it dumb to tell your readers your revenue is down? Probably. But I don’t care because we aren’t trying to sell the business or impress anyone.
Detail of three craftsmen from “Scenes in and Around Kyoto” (Funaki edition), left screen, by Iwasa Matabei (1578-1650), ca. 1615, a designated National Treasure of Japan, Tokyo National Museum.
The craft groups and lumberyards in this second part of the Japanese woodworking festival cover a period of about 400 years. The occupations of craftspeople at work were painted on screens for castles and temples, carved on woodblocks that were bound into books, or sold as individual prints. The audience for the screens and books were the upper classes of society. Often, for the amusement of the readers, books featured “poetry contests” between craftspeople on opposing pages. These are similar to painted scenes of peasants going about their daily lives in seasonal calendars found in European medieval prayer books and manuscripts.
Some of the images are, like the one above, from works designated as national treasures or important cultural properties. In the last few years many have become available in higher resolutions and, especially the highly-detailed painted screens, are just plain fun to study.
Similar to western societies, entire families were engaged in making goods for sale. Multiple generations commonly lived and worked in small two-room homes. The front room faced the street and was used to display and sell goods and as a workspace. The back room and small courtyard was the living space and also where much of the goods were made.
The Toolmakers
Image from an album by an unknown artist dating from early in the 17th century (Edo era). Illustration from “Trades and Crafts of Old Japan – Leaves from a Contemporary Album,” 1961, by Eric A. Kaemmerer.
In his comments for this image Kaemmerer noted the blades and saws hanging at the shop front, small items in a box near the toolmaker and a display at the shop front that might be nails.
From “Nihon sankai meibutsu zue,” 1754 (Osaka) by Hasegawa Mitsunobu, Pulverer Collection, Smithsonian.
In this second image there is bit more detail and a with more detail and a better view of the forge used to heat the metal in a small shop. Below is a toolmaker with a much bigger operation.
In the same book by artist Hasegawa Mitsunobu a crew is crafting heavy tools for use in a quarry. A much larger forge is needed for this operation with a dedicated “forge man.”
The Carpenters
Top-left: 15th century, artist unknown, Harvard Art Museum. Top-right: source and artist unknown, est. 19th century. Bottom: preparatory drawing, school/style of Katsushika Hokusai, est. 1811, British Museum.
Several years ago I sent the top-left image (15th century) to Wilbur Pan. In his comments on his blog he noted there was no Japanese plane, but there was a yari-kanna, or spear plane, and this is possibly an indication of when the planes used today came into use. The image at top-right, with unknown artist and source, is notable for the tattoos on the carpenter in the foreground and nice curly wood shavings. It is just possible the plank acting as his workbench is a sake barrel.
Shokunin zukushi-e (Illustrations of Various Craftsmen), screen painting by Kano Yoshinobu (1552-1640), in Kita-in Temple, Saitama. This reproduction is from my personal collection. The two large six-panel screens at Kita-in are byu-bu, or wind walls, and feature 24 scenes of craftsmen. The screens are designated National Important Cultural Properties.
The busy scene above (except for the guy in the back taking a nap) may be at the carpenter’s workshop with prep work underway or it may the building site. In the background is a drawing of the building plan, something not seen very often in these illustrations. One of the tools near the seated master is the yari-kanna, or spear plane. Other things to note are the tool box in front of the building plan and lunch has arrived.
By Kawahara Keigo, est 1832-1842, National Museum of Ethnology, Leiden.
A very pristine building site of what may be, considering the size of beams, a warehouse. Seated at the corner of the building is the very important sharpener, because as we all know, sharp fixes everything.
The Turners
Top: “Various Classes of Artisans in Color Pictures,” est 1760-1770s, by Minko Tachibana, British Museum. Bottom-left: “Picture Book of Various Occupations,” 1685, by Hishikawa Moronobu, Met Museum. Bottom-right: lathe from Japan’s first illustrated dictionary by Nakamura Tekisai, ca. 1666, Library of Congress.
The illustration at the top probably shows three generations of the turner’s family and emphasizes the family nature of the business. You can also see how stakes are used to stabilize the lather. The image of the lathe and stand is from the Kinmo-zu-i (Enlightening Illustrations), Japan’s first illustrated dictionary. The dictionary is comprised of 14 volumes of woodblock illustrations with written descriptions.
Left: detail from a scroll depicting craftsmen at work, painted by Kuwagata Keisai (1764-1824), Tokyo National Museum. Right: “Imayo shokunin zukushi uta-wase,” by Kitao Masayoshi, 1825, Pulverer Collection, Smithsonian.
Working as the power for the turning lathe was an exhausting job as emphasized by these two images. On left, the worker stops and gasps for breath. On the right, his counterpart strains to keep the lathe turning. Also note the large brace employed to work on a larger container.
The Wheelwrights
Left: “Picture Book of Various Occupations,” 1685, by Hishikawa Moronobu, Met Museum. Top-right: “Sketches of Various Craftsmen,” 1826, by Yashima Gakutei, British Museum. Bottom-right: “Poetry Contest of Various Artisans,” ca. 1744, after Tosa Mitsunobu, Met Museum.
Some things don’t change much over a period of 200 years: the tools are the same, the body is used as a work-holding device and the wheels are made the same way (except on the bottom-right – is that felly being held in place by magic?).
The Coopers
Top-left: From the “Series Thirty-six views of Mount Fuji,” ca. 1830-32, Katsushika Hokusai, Met Museum. Bottom-left: “Sketches of Various Craftsmen,” 1826, Yashima Gakutei, British Museum. Right: From “Trades and Crafts of Old Japan – Leaves from a Contemporary Album,” 1961, by Eric Kaemmerer.
I’ve often wondered if Hokusai made that barrel extra large just to frame Mount Fuji.
Another image from the screens painted by Kano Yoshinobu (1552-1640) in the possession of the Kita-in Temple in Saitama, from my personal collection.
Like the image from Eric Kaemmerer’s book, we get a good sense of how the family was involved in making goods for sale and how the living space was dominated by the workshop.
Back in 2016 (when we were all so much younger) I wrote a piece on Japanese and Estonian cooperage and included information and video of a Japanese company still engaged in making barrels. If you would like to read it you can find it here.
The Cypress Woodcrafters (himono-ya)
To-left: “Picture Book of Various Occupations,” 1685, Hishikawa Mononobu, Met Museum. Bottom-left: “Poetry Contest of Various Artisans,” ca. 1744, after Tosa Mitsunobu, Met Museum. Right: Screen painting by Kano Yoshinobu (1552-1640) at Kita-in Temple, Saitama, from my personal collection.
Working with hinoki, these craftsmen are making round containers, sanbo (a small stand for offerings in Shinto temples), trays, small tables and stands. After splitting thin sheets of wood, the wood is scored and bent into place. A clamp holds the piece together until it can be stitched together. In the large image the master uses a yari-kanna to smooth the wood and the worker on the right is bending (with the aid of his mouth) a sheet into a round shape. The worker in the foreground has a clamp in place as he stitches the wood together. Two sanbo are stacked to the right of the master and in the background supplies are stacked. The screen paintings from the Kita-in Temple are true treasures in depicting how artisans worked.
A display of goods made of hinoki. From “Archiv zur Beschreibung Nippon,” mid to late 19th century, by Philip Franz Siebold. A sanbo is in the middle of the bottom row.
The Shamisen Maker
Left: detail from “Scenes in and Around Kyoto,” ca. 1615, by Iwasa Matabei (1578-1650, Tokyo National Museum. Top-right: “Sketches of Various Craftsmen,” 1826, by Yashima Gakutei, British Museum. Bottom-right: “Ehon imayo shokunin zukushi,” 1800, Kitao Masayoshi, British Museum.
Many Lost Art Press readers make and play musical instruments, even banjos (hello, Mattias). So, I have included the shamisen in this post.
While the craftsmen on the right work on smoothing the neck of a shamisen, the guy on the left trudges home looking like the girls said “no way” or he got kicked out the band. The screens painted by Iwasa Matabei have so many interesting scenes and I couldn’t resist including him.
Photo by Yamamoto, Meiji Era, 1870s, published by J. B. Millet Co.
Although this is one of those staged photos taken in the late 19th and early 20th centuries it does give us a glimpse at how the shamisen is made. The drum is covered by an animal skin (formerly of an animal usually viewed as a pet) which the maker appears to be applying in this photo.
Both woodblock prints by Yashima Gakutei, mid-1820s. Left: Met Museum, Right: Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
The woman on the left tunes the shamisen; the woman on the right plucks the three strings with a baci, a type of plectrum, cousin to the guitar pick.
The Comb Maker
Top-left: “Poetry Contest of Various Artisans,” ca. 1744, after Tosa Mitsunobu, Met Museum. Middle-left: Saw from Kinmo zui (illustrated dictionary), ca. 1666, by Nakamura Tekisai, Library of Congress. Bottom-left: “ Ehon imayo shokunin zukushi,” 1800, Kitao Masayoshi, British Museum. Right: Actor Ichimura Uzaemon as a comb vendor, ca. 1730, by Okumara Toshinobu.
Fans, umbrellas, sandals, small boxes and combs are just some of the many personal items that were, and continue to be, made of wood. I chose combs because they are a practical item used by women and men and are also an ornamental item.
“Picture Book of Various Occupations,” 1685, by Hishikawa Moronobu, Met Museum.
The kanban, or shop sign, makes it to easy find this comb maker. Comb making requires the skill to make precision cuts, both for blanks and to cut teeth that are evenly spaced. An ornamental comb, or kushi, required a high level of skill and refinement with finishing and decoration completed by a lacquer artist.
From “Nihon sankai meibutsu zue,” 1754 (Osaka) by Hasegawa Mitsunobu, Pulverer Collection, Smithsonian.
There are many painters in the books illustrating craftspeople at work, but I could not find one that was definitely a lacquer artist. However, we do have an illustration of Japanese sumac trees, urushinoki, being tapped for sap to make lacquer, or urushi.
Two combs with lacquer work by Hara Yoyusai (1772?-1845). Top: two turtles (kame) swimming in a stream, design and drafting by Sakai Hoitsu, Tokyo National Museum. Bottom: fireflies in a grassy moor, The Walters Art Museum, Baltimore.
Hara Yoyusai used the maki-e technique of sprinkling gold onto a lacquered surface before it hardened. This raises the design elements and provides texture. The comb on the bottom is gold and the fireflies are black. Note how the painted design extends over the teeth of the comb. The comb at the top has been repaired, a common practice, because there is still beauty in broken things.
The Boatwrights
By Kawahara Keigo, 1832-1842, National Museum of Ethnology, Leiden.
Only one image of this craft and it calls for alteration: boatwrights building a big boat.
Bringing Lumber to Market and the Lumberyards
From “Nihon sankai meibutsu zue,” 1754 (Osaka) by Hasegawa Mitsunobu, Pulverer Collection, Smithsonian.
Trees are cut, trimmed and start the float down river to lumber merchants and their yards. These are scenes not usually found in the books featuring town-based craftsmen.
The golden clouds parted to see a lumber merchant from “Scenes in and Around Kyoto” (Funaki edition), left screen, by Iwasa Matabei (1578-1650), ca. 1615, a designated National Treasure of Japan, Tokyo National Museum.
The three craftsmen at the very top of this post need only walk a short distance down their street and into the next panel of their screen to find a lumber merchant. The merchant probably received his supply via boat on the nearby river.
The 1657 Great Fire of Meireki was a conflagration that destroyed over 60% of Edo (Tokyo)and caused the deaths of over 100,000. After the fire lumbar yards were moved east of the Sumida river and further from the city. Thanks to the well-known 19th-century woodblock artists, Hokusai and Hiroshige we have two views of Tokyo’s Fukagawa-kiba lumberyard.
“Tatekawa in Honjo (Honjo Tatekawa), from the series Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji (Fugaku sanjurokkei),” ca. 1830–32, by Katsushika Hokusai. The stacks of lumber in the lower right are labeled as destined for the storehouse of the publisher of the woodblock print and stock for the new edition of Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji.
The lumberyard was its own city with a maze of canals, bridges and warehouses.
“Lumberyards at Fukagawa-kiba, No. 106 in a series One Hundred Views of Famous Places in Edo,” 1856, Utagawa Hiroshige, Fine Arts Museum of San Francisco.
The lumberyards grew as more land was reclaimed.
A postcard dated 1910 of Fukagawa kiba, via The Tokyo Files.
In the early 1970s the lumberyards were moved further away to reclaimed land. The old lumber yard is now Kiba Park, the newer yards are Shin-kiba.
To bring the Japanese Woodworking Matsuri to an end I will leave you with a link to high-resolution images of the two screens of “Scenes in and Around Kyoto” (Funaki edition) painted around 1615 by Iwasa Matabei (Collection of Tokyo National Museum, National Treasure of Japan).
You can find the link here. Each screen is made of six panels. When you open the link click on the highest resolution. Scroll to the bottom of the page and you will see two links, one for each screen.
Your challenge is to find this pumpkin-panted Portuguese visitor:
A few excellent axes, with uses and comments. Availability is always the question. (top) Hans Karlsson New Sloyd Axe. 24.5 oz., 4-1/4″ blade, 15″ overall. A sweet-spot carving axe that can be used for carving spoons and bowls. Originally designed by Wille Sundqvist, I suggested lengthening the cutting edge when it went into production. (middle) Svante Djarv Baby Axe. Just 14.5 oz., including the handle. Three-inch blade, 13″ overall. This axe seems ridiculously small, but it’s very effective for spoon carving. And you won’t get tired using it. (bottom) Svante Djarv Little Viking Axe. 28 oz., 5-3/8″ blade, 15″ overall. Another great carving axe that is somewhat larger than the Karlsson New Sloyd. It’s definitely too large for spoon carving, unless you’re an expert.
The following is excerpted from Drew Langsner’s “Country Woodcraft: Then & Now.” In 1978, Drew Langsner first released this book to the world, and it sparked a movement – still expanding today – of hand-tool woodworkers who make things with mostly green wood.
“Country Woodcraft” showed you how to split wood from the forest and shape into anything you might need, from a spoon to a bowl, from a hay rake fork to a milking stool, a pine whisk to a dining table.
After more than 40 years, Drew revisited his long-out-of-print and important book to revise and expand it to encompass what he learned since “Country Woodcraft” was first released.
The result is “Country Woodcraft: Then & Now,” which was expanded by nearly 100 pages and updated throughout to reflect what Drew has learned since 1978. Among many other additions, it includes greatly expanded sections on building shavehorses, carving spoons and making green-wood bowls.
Axes are honorary members of the primitive tools family. Axes are simple tools, but the good ones are also refined, the result of countless generations of use and thinking about specific requirements.Simple means that you need to do most of the work. There’s a definite learning curve, and practice is necessary to develop and maintain technique. As an example of this, you can watch Wille Sundqvist hewing a spoon in 1982 in a video posted to the Country Workshops YouTube channel. The video records Wille at his prime…a world-class axe master who grew up in rural Sweden when men used axes every day.
Safety First! Axes are easily the most dangerous hand tools. This is because they work with a throwing action. There’s accelerated force that doesn’t let off until overcome by friction. When using an axe, you must always be extremely careful – on your best woodworking behavior. During spoon carving, you’re holding the workpiece with your free hand, so you must be extra careful.
The first rule is that your holding fingers must always be on the backside of the workpiece, never gripping around or over the top. This rule always applies.
A few terms. These aren’t official, but offered here so that we understand one another. Axes are one or two handed. Single-handed axes are also called hatchets. Carving axes are single-handed hatchets designed for wood carving. In contrast to a camping hatchet, carving axes are a refined and tuned instrument. “Hewing axe” refers to double-handed axes that can also be a broad axe – heavy, with a massive blade, and a single bevel on the outer side of the cutting edge.
Carving axes are what we’re concerned with here – for working on spoons, ladles, bowls and maybe sculptural work. Broad axes are usually used for architectural work – timber framing and working on log structures. Much was learned about carving axes in the years after the historic Spoon Carving – Then photos of Wille Sundqvist hewing a spoon with my Kent hatchet were taken (in Chapter 26).
This appendix is an introductory guide to selecting a carving axe. Makers and models are provided, but these aren’t exclusive picks. Everyone has their own requirements, and different makers and models are available at different times.
Weight isn’t a major factor with double-handed axes, but it’s an important consideration with carving hatchets. Because they are single-handed tools, all of the grip and heft – power – are concentrated in one hand and arm. This statement seems overly basic. But consider trying to fasten something with one connector compared to using two connectors that are spread apart. The single fastener requires enormous connectivity when stability is a consideration. With a double connection the stress per connector is much less than half.
With a carving axe comfort is exhausted quickly as axe weight increases. This is felt in your hand, wrist and forearm. This is not only tiring, but can lead to a loss of control – even releasing the axe unintentionally. Older users – like me – should be particularly concerned with axe weight.
A carving hatchet should be light enough that you won’t become tired using it. Svante Djarv’s Baby Axe weighs less than 1 pound, with the handle. Spoons are small things that don’t ask for a big axe.
The cross section of a carving axe handle is critical to the user’s comfort, especially after the first minute or so of use. I’ve been trying to understand what makes the perfect feeling/gripping handle cross section going back to before Country Woodcraft was originally written. I still haven’t figured this out. I have favorite carving axes with handles that contradict one another.
A broad hatchet (a) is beveled on one side. The inner flat side can be very slightly convex from poll to the cutting edge. A standard hatchet may be reground with asymmetrical bevels (b). It’s important that a line extending straight from the inner bevel doesn’t run into the swelling on the head for the handle. This is the blue line on the drawing.
Balance. One of the problems with the Kent axe is that the head hangs below the axis of the handle. It always wants to flop downward. It also has double bevels, so you need to hold it at a rotational angle for the edge to slice wood. This means that you’re always expending energy to correct the hanging angle. The problem is – sort-of – remedied by increasing the size of the poll, the hammer-like protrusion at the top of the axe head. But this increases the weight – probably not a significant problem in the past when axe users were tough and strong.
Angling the piece being axed partially solves the problem. Then the axe swing is closer to plumb.
Balance comes about with good design. The axe head shape, and the angle of the eye relative to the handle, can be made so that the handle axis is in line with the center of gravity of the head. The objective is that the axe can be deployed at a rotational angle without needing to physically pull it into the desired plane. This can take various forms, all with pros and cons, of course. The carving axes in the photos all have good balance.
The reproduction 10th-century Viking axe (shown on page 99) has exceptionally good balance. The original was probably an all-purpose tool, used for butchering, fighting and even woodworking. The axis of the handle is in line with the center of balance of the head. This means that it can be swung in any direction, without the distraction of the head wanting to angle downward.
Bevels. There are three possibilities – symmetrical double bevels, single bevel and hybrid double bevels. A symmetrical bevel is the most versatile configuration, even allowing a moderate scooping action. But it requires angling the axe to get a controlled, supported cut. This is where axe balance is consequential.
The single-bevel version is known as a broad axe or broad hatchet. It’s like a chisel used with the flat side inward. There’s minimal angling needed for getting a controlled cut. This makes single-bevel axes easy to control. Gravity does much of the work. It’s possible to hew a convex shape, but concavities are out of the question.
The hybrid version is sometimes called long and short bevels, or asymmetric bevels. The inner bevel is longer and at a lower angle than the outer bevel. These often come about as a user-made modification of a symmetrical-bevel axe. With this configuration you get some of the advantages of the double-bevel and single-bevel variations.
With any of these three configurations it’s important that the inner bevel is flat. If the inner bevel is convex – slightly curved from cutting edge toward the head – you would need to tip the axe outward to get it to cut. Then you lose support of the bevel during the cut. The axe will tend to bounce away from the work.
There’s some confusion in the broad axe realm as to what version is right- or left-handed. Right-handed means that the left side is the flat side of the head when the axe is held in your right hand. The bevel is now on the right.
This is my favorite broad axe, used to hew most of the logs for our house. The hickory handle is bent away from the blade, to give clearance for your hands passing the hewed log surface. The maker is unknown.
Clearance. There should be some clearance when you hold a straightedge on the inner bevel – or the flat side – laying the ruler from the cutting edge toward the eye of the head. The straightedge shouldn’t bump into a bulge at the eye for the handle. This doesn’t matter with very light axe cuts, but it’s a disqualifying factor if you’re using the axe with enough force that the eye of the axe head passes the work during each swing.
Clearance is a design problem, not impossible to solve, but annoying to get right for some toolmakers. Clearance can sometimes be jimmy-fixed by regrinding the angle of the inner bevel on an existing axe head.
Cutting edge curvature. Axes are most efficient when used with a slicing action – the wood fibers are cut in succession and at an angle. That’s the reason for the curved cutting edge. The cutting angle is also regulated by the angle of the edge relative to the handle axis. And to how the user swings the tool – a matter of skill and preference.
Dimensions of a Swiss shaving horse. Legs are canted 12° lengthwise and 12° to the sides. Jaw overhang is 2″. The aft end of the work support overhang should be a few inches longer.
In 1978, Drew Langsner released his book “Country Woodcraft” to the world, and it sparked a movement – still expanding today – of hand-tool woodworkers who make things with mostly green wood.
The 304 pages of “Country Woodcraft” showed you how to split wood from the forest and shape into anything you might need, from a spoon to a bowl, from a hay rake fork to a milking stool, a pine whisk to a dining table.
After more than 40 years, Drew revisited this long-out-of-print and important book to revise and expand it to encompass what he has learned since “Country Woodcraft” was first released.
The result is “Country Woodcraft: Then & Now,” which has been expanded by nearly 100 pages and has been updated throughout to reflect what Drew has learned since 1978. Among many other additions, it includes greatly expanded sections on building shavehorses, carving spoons and making green-wood bowls.
The original book’s text is intact, and the old photos are in black and white. Throughout the book, Drew has added text, which we set in a slightly different font, to explain what he does differently now after 40 years of daily work on the North Carolina farm he shares with his wife, Louise.
In many ways, the book is a delightful conversation between the younger Drew, who is happy to chop down trees with a felling axe, and the older Drew, who now uses an electric chainsaw and band saw to break down stock to conserve energy (and likely aspirin). New illustrations and color photos throughout show how Drew works now.
During Country Workshops’ early years it seemed that we were always making shaving horses. We needed a herd for classes, and we offered courses in making them. These were mostly based on the design for Reudi Kohler’s shaving horse from the Swiss Alps. The Swiss-German name is a zug stuhl. In English, single-lever horses are sometimes called a dumb head.
At about that time, post-and-rung chairmaker Brian Boggs was experimenting with shaving horse possibilities derived from the British tradition where the mechanism consists of two pivoting levers that straddle the bench and work support. A cross-wise clamping bar connects the two levers at the upper working end. The foot pedal is another crosspiecethat holds the assembly together at the lower end. This type often has three legs – good for stability on a rough, uneven floor. The double-lever version is sometimes called a bodger’s horse. (I discuss the bodger myth in Chapter 12: A Spring-Pole Lathe.)
The distinctive feature of Brian’s shaving horse is a vertical ratchet system, for quickly adjusting the space between the work support and the jaw. The mechanism – sometimes called a wagon jack – was a breakthrough in shaving horse design. Brian also included a rotating jaw. This greatly improves clamping efficiency compared to the more common fixed cross-bar.
The immediately appreciated advantage of the ratchet is that it works quickly and easily. Less obvious is that the user now decides what height and angle is best for efficient tool use. The work support is lowered when working thicker stock. You select the height that your arms like, not the stock thickness. You always have optimal ergonomics. In contrast, with dumb-head shaving horses, the height of the jaw is adjusted for material thickness. With a thick chunk of wood you need to raise your arms to a position that often isn’t efficient body mechanics.
Also pre-Brian; the work support on twin-lever shaving horses usually pivots at the front of the bench. The work support is commonly adjusted with a wedge between the bench and lower surface of the work support. Consequently, the work support angle changes as the work support is adjusted for the stock thickness. With thin stock you need to pull upwards – uncomfortable and inefficient. And with thick stock you’re almost pulling the drawknife into your thighs.
A common disadvantage of traditional twin-lever horses is that the holes for the pivot bolt go through the bench – close to midpoint of the levers. The leverage ratio is inferior to the single-lever horses which have the pivot hole near the lever head. On dumb-head horses there is a further adjustment – additional bolt holes in the lever. On the bodger versions this adjustment is possible if the cross-bar can be moved up and down. When you do this, you need to adjust your arm height – possibly to an uncomfortable and inefficient working posture.
On most traditional bodger’s horses the cross-bar is fixed to the twin levers. The cross-bar doesn’t grab the work very well, due to a lack of bearing surface. Remember the poor leverage ratio caused by the low position of the pivot. This limitation can be overcome with a cross-bar that rotates. Now the cross-bar lies flat on the work.
A potential disadvantage of this feature is that the twin-lever unit isn’t as sturdy as it is with a fixed cross-bar. However, that can be overcome by stiffening the twin-lever unit at the lower foot end. With a rotating cross-bar, you gain so much holding friction that the poor location of the pivot becomes irrelevant.
Now we’ll look at design details with the single-lever dumb-head shaving horses. Because of the need to shave wood of various thickness there is no perfect shape for the lower bearing surface of the jaw. (This is the same problem as the fixed cross-bar in twin-lever horses.) This can be partly overcome by inserting something under the jaw or on top of the work support that increases grabbing strength. Reudi Kohler would use a piece of sandpaper, folded in half with the abrasive surfaces exposed.
A significant advantage found on most dumb-head shaving horses is the lateral foot treadle, rather than the foot cross-bar on bodger’s horses. The treadle eliminates the need to extend your legs nearly as far as with the cross-bar. Tall, leggy people don’t seem to understand this. I think the treadle is required.
One winter Carl Swensson decided to study shaving horses. (He wanted to design, make and use the best shaving horse possible.) Carl worked with the single-lever version, which is somewhat better for cooperage, which is what he was doing at the time.
I had always assumed that a shaving horse works because the head/ jaw comes down onto the workpiece, pinching it in place. Carl found that pinching doesn’t work very well. This is particularly true with dumb-head horses where there’s a compromise shape on the bottom of the jaw – it doesn’t lay flat on the workpiece.
Carl found that either type of shaving horse works much better when the jaw opening is adjusted so that there’s very little downward movement. The jaw moves in an arc, from about 12 o’clock to somewhere between 1 and 3 o’clock. When the jaw is adjusted to connect high in the arc, it’s moving at a low angle. Now it’s jamming, not pinching. You can’t pull the work loose, even with slight pressure at the foot treadle. It’s grabbing more like a wedge, not a connector like a clamp pad. An additional benefit of the close jaw opening is that there’s no need to press very far at the treadle, making life considerably easier. And work goes a bit quicker. The concept works equally well with dumb-head and bodger’s horses. It’s particularly effective when the bodger’s horse has a pivoting crosspiece. To increase friction with his dumb-head horse, Carl added a piece of semi-hard rubber on the bottom of the jaw.
Twin-lever horses win the efficiency contest because they can utilize a rotating crosspiece. On the dumb-head version the shape of the jaw is fixed, and is therefore never quite right.
An improvement that can be made with any dumb-head horse is to add more pivot bolt holes for adjusting the height of the jaw. The bolt holes should be spaced as close as possible. You can then adjust the height so that the jaw closes near the top of the arc, when it’s at a jamming angle.
This is Tom Donahey’s version of the ratchet work support. Further refinements are the extended aft work support, and the rectangular section pivoting cross-bar– with an off-center through-assembly bolt – for more adjustability. Tom substituted an extended treadle for the conventional foot cross bar, a major improvement.
One year, chairmaker Tom Donahey asked if I would be interested in selling shaving horses through our Country Workshops Store. “Sure” was the quick answer.
Tom’s version of a twin-lever horse utilizes the ratchet work support. His bench design and other details are considerably different than Brian’s version. In early discussions I promoted a lateral foot treadle, rather than the foot cross-bar found on most bodger’s horses.
As with Brian’s shaving horse, Tom decided to drop the traditional flat bench – with four legs – in favor of a stiff frame consisting of twin 2” rails on edge, and three legs. The space between the rails conveniently locates the single front leg, the vertical ratchet part of the work support, and the wooden flipper device that engages the ratchet teeth.
We also wanted a wide, comfortable seat. But where and how should the seat be attached to the frame? We decided to experiment with adjustable seat positions. A small keel was attached to the underside of the seat for the prototype horse. The keel fits neatly between the bench rails. It turns out that there’s no need to secure the seat in place. You are you! The seat doesn’t want to move when you advance the treadle. The seat with keel remains – and now Tom’s shaving horse seats are upholstered.
Over time, other refinements were incorporated into the design. The bolt holes for the crosspiece were moved from the center of the levers to a location close to the aft edge. Moving the cross-bar aft helps when you need to work close to the mechanism, as with short stock, like a spoon blank.
We decided to call Tom’s version a shaving mule since it combines elements from so many earlier breeds of shaving horses, plus our innovations. Tom has made well over 200, and the mules were used at Country Workshops classes for many years. We also produced a set of detailed plans for DIY makers. I don’t know how many plans we sold, but some years ago we decided to put a free pdf download file on the Country Workshops website. This is currently available in the CW Archive section of my website, DrewLangsner.com.
Tom Donahey’s Shaving Mule.
The Story Continues … During the Country Workshops years (1978 through 2017) I organized a series of international craft tours to Scandinavia, the U.K., Switzerland and Japan. In Japan I met Masashi Kutsuwa, a woodworker who teaches at Gifu Academy of Forest Science and Culture.
Masashi asked if I would be interested in teaching a post-and-rung chairmaking course. It would be run by the Japan Green Woodwork Association and take place at his school. Starting a chairmaking course isn’t easy. We would need tools and equipment, including 15 shaving horses. Masashi designed an easy-to-make twin-lever horse that can be quickly folded into a compact shape for storage. I loved teaching the class. But I didn’t like those shaving horses! (I won’t bother to discuss the problems with the design – trust me.) Something better would be needed for future classes. I promoted adopting Tom’s mules. Masashi countered that the design was too difficult for many woodworkers to construct. Also, he had to consider storage and transport – the Japan Green Woodworker group meets at different locations. But the real challenge with the Mule is making the precision ratchet mechanism. Tom’s design for attaching the rear legs also requires a compound-angled saw cut. It’s clever and works fine…if you can do it.
One day I received a booklet in the mail “Green Wood Work,” a Japanese primer for getting started with green woodworking. I could only understand the pictures – color photos and nice drawings. On page 25 my jaw dropped when I saw a new version of Masashi’s folding shaving horse. The significant innovation was that the work support was now two boards and two hinges that pivoted at opposite ends. The bench and work support make a “Z” configuration. The lower diagonal board raises and lowers the work support. The upper board’s hinge allows adjustments with the work support angle. Masashi’s new version also collapses into a compact bundle for storage and transport.
Masashi Kutsuwa’s Z work support shaving horse collapses and sets up in less than 30 seconds.
Here’s a way to easily set the work support at any height and at any angle. To keep things simple, the adjustments are made with loose wood blocks that act as wedges. I was also happy to see that the new folding horse used a lateral foot treadle, and a non-attached seat. The design still folds into a compact bundle for storage. My Japanese friends call it the Origami Horse.
I decided to make a Z-Mule that combines elements from Tom’s and Masashi’s versions, plus other elements. In this version, the diagonal of the Z is adjusted with a pivoting cam that stays in place better than a loose wedge. The holes in the cam look cool, but they’re really there to give you something to grab when adjusting the rotation. The diagonal and work support boards are attached with standard door hinges.
This is my Z-Mule. The frame and lever assembly borrow elements from all over the place.
Masashi also came up with a clever way to attach the foot treadle; it simply lifts from the lever assembly when you want to knock the mule down for storage. I’ve kept Tom’s sliding seat. In this variant the rear legs are rotated 90° and are secured to the bench rails by nesting into channels cut into the sides of the rails. Easy to do and sturdy. I’ve also incorporated a rotating cross-bar. One further refinement is that the cross-bar is rectangular in section, not square. This provides another potential adjustment in the spacing between the cross-bar and work support.
Masashi’s quick-detach foot treadle and the underside of Tom’s upholstered seat. Both on the Z-Mule.
I decided to incorporate a few style touches. The Z-Mule is not purely a form-follows-function design. It needs to look good. The front leg tapers narrower toward the floor, while the rear legs taper larger. This may seem odd, but I believe that it looks right. Also, I thickness-planed the diagonal and work-support boards to 1-1/4″. An odd dimension, but another visual tweak.
Of course you can design and make your own version of a shaving horse. Please borrow freely from what I’ve shared about these wonderful, fun workshop critters.
