A batch of our holdfasts was exposed to moisture during shipping, and they developed some surface rust. After weighing all the options – from melting them down to media-blasting them – we decided to sell them at a discount instead.
These blemished holdfasts are fully functional. The castings passed inspection. The only thing wrong with them is some surface rust. You can remove the rust if you like, or leave it. Most holdfasts develop patina in time.
These blemished holdfasts are sold as-is. The price is $99, which is a significant discount from our retail price. Quantities are limited. Click here to order.
(Publisher’s note: We try to kindly discourage readers from giving us gifts. We have all the tools we need. And there are so many other people in the world who need help. But once in a very great while something shows up that is so stunning that we feel compelled to share. — CS)
When we get an unexpected package at Lost Art Press from the other side of the world, it’s typically a book proposal – but once in a while, we are stunned by the kindness of strangers. The hand-cut marquetry bookmarks shown above, by Elena Simonova (@woodsimka on Instagram), are just such a surprise. They were commissioned by Russian reader Alexandr (no last name in his accompanying letter), and feature Bean the Shop Cat as drawn by Katherine Schwarz for a LAP sticker a few years back, the Lost Art Press dividers and stylized lettering, and a six-stick Kentucky stick chair a la Christopher Schwarz.
Even before we realized the pictures are hand-cut marquetry, we were impressed by the scrollsaw pattern work on the lower portion of the bookmarks. Then we took a close look at the tops:
That is some tiny and impressive work!
Thank you, Alexandr (and BTW, your English is impeccable despite your concern to the contrary), and thank you Elena; we will treasure and use these gorgeous and generous gifts.
This cherry six-stick comb-back chair features some new elements that I’ve been experimenting with during the last six months, including hexagonal legs, a mitered arm bow and splayed back sticks. This particular example is set up as a chair for dining or working at a desk, with a fairly upright back at 11° off the seat.
The back is not a simple arc. Instead, it is two arcs that terminate in a flat at the back of the chair. As a result, I think this chair is particularly comfortable.
The seat is 16-1/2” off the floor, so it is ideal for all sitters. The lumbar support is there, but it has been tempered for sitters who aren’t crazy about lots of lumbar support.
Like all my chairs, this one is assembled with hide glue and wedges. So it will be easy to repair by future generations. The finish is a homemade mix of linseed oil and beeswax and is completely safe – and also easy to renew or repair in the future.
The cherry is from the Ohio River Valley and was split and sawn to provide dead-straight grain on the sticks, stretchers and legs.
This chair is being sold via a random drawing. The chair is $1,400 plus domestic shipping. (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 5 p.m. (Eastern) on Wednesday, March 2. 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)
After all the emails have arrived on March 2, we will pick a winner that evening via a random drawing.
If you are the “winner,” the chair can be picked up at our storefront for free. Or we can ship it to you via common carrier. The crate is included in the price of the chair. Shipping a chair usually costs between $150 and $250, depending on your location.
One day in the 1990s, a few of us at Popular Woodworking Magazine were talking to Troy Sexton – one of our contributors – about table saw blades. We asked Troy what blades he liked.
“Thin kerf,” he said. “Always thin kerf.”
One of the other editors scoffed a bit. “Why would you need a thin-kerf blade on your 5hp table saw?”
Troy said: “They save wood. The difference between a 1/8”-wide blade and a 3/32” blade makes all the difference at times.”
I couldn’t agree more. Today I was roughing out the parts for two new chairs from some precious material: bog oak that is between 2,000 and 4,000 years old. I would never buy this material for myself. It’s too rare and unpredictable. But local furniture maker Andy Brownell had some chair-sized scraps from a dining table commission. He generously let me pick through the scraps for pieces that had dead-straight grain and few splits.
I’ve worked with bog oak before. So I was skeptical that I could make a chair from it. But I also trust Andy’s judgment when it comes to wood. So I gathered up enough material to make a chair and headed home.
I started cutting into the oak on Friday and was absolutely amazed. The bog oak I had used years before was lightweight and brash (brittle). That oak was filled with tension, so pieces warped like crazy. And some chisel handles I turned from it broke in short order.
As long as I avoided all the small splits, the bog oak was incredibly robust.
This stuff from Andy is different. It is heavy, stable and incredibly strong. I made some 3/4” x 3/4” sticks and hit them with a sledgehammer (the “sledgehammer test” in “The Stick Chair Book”). The sticks just bounced, as I would expect from straight oak that was cut last year.
Why the difference between this bog oak and the brittle stuff from a decade ago? I can’t say exactly. I am sure that one difference is in how quickly the two oaks grew. The bog oak from 10 years ago was very slow-growth stuff. So there were tons of pores. This new bog oak grew incredibly fast. Some of the growth rings were 1/4” to 3/8” apart. Fast-growing oak is much stronger than slow-growing oak.
The difference might also have been how the material was dried, handled and processed. I have no idea how the bog oak from a decade ago had been dried. But the new stuff came from M. Bohlke Lumber north of Cincinnati. Bohlke specializes in cutting and drying incredible and difficult woods. The Bohlke facility is nothing short of astonishing.
Because of resawing, one shoe became two.
In any case, because of a thin-kerf table saw blade and lots of planning, I was able to squeeze parts for two chairs from the lumber I’d hoped to get one from. I did this by carefully resawing the curved parts from lumber that was 2-1/8” thick in the rough. Even with modern oak from a reputable kiln, resawing can be tricky. Tension in the wood can make the boards warp immediately when sawn through their thickness. And if the wood isn’t completely dry, the boards can curl later on.
This stuff was as stable as resawing MDF.
Even though everything has been going well so far, I know that trouble lies ahead. All this bog oak is from one tree, which is great. But there is an amazing amount of color variance along the widths of the boards. The wood goes from a charcoal-amber to an almost pitch black. Juggling all those colors means I have to finish the parts before assembly to ensure my chairs don’t look like calico quilts.
Luckily, I have about three times as many sticks as I need for two chairs. Also, when building chairs you don’t need all the wood to match exactly. The wood in the horizontal plane (seat and arms) can be a little different than the stuff in the vertical plane (sticks). And the undercarriage (legs and stretchers) can be another shade without looking wrong. Light hits a chair differently than it hits a cabinet.
With all these variables with the material, I decided that the chairs’ designs shouldn’t be an additional one. The two chairs I am building are designs I have built many times, so there won’t be any surprises when it comes to angles or how the chairs’ forms will look.
But I am sure there will be other difficulties ahead I can’t foresee.
Drew Langsner’s mauls as shown in “Country Woodcraft: Then & Now”
Wendell picked up a maul, which Meb had made from a hickory tree. It had a smooth handle and a bulbous head, squared off at the end. “With it,” he told me, “you can deliver a blow of tremendous force to a stake or a splitting wedge.” Thinking about a modern sledgehammer, I asked how the handle was inserted into the head. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, “No, no, honey,” then hastily explained himself: “That’s our way of taking the sting out of it, you see, when we correct someone.” He showed me the swirling grain of the maul’s head, chopped from the roots of a tree, and swung it over his shoulder to demonstrate how it becomes a natural extension of the body.
When I was back home, he sent me a diagram and explained how the strength of the wood came from the tree’s immersion in the soil: “The growth of roots makes the grain gnarly, gnurly, snurly: unsplittable.” After you cut the tree, you square off the root end. Then, above the roots, where the grain isn’t snurly, you saw inward a little at a time, “splitting off long, straight splinters to reduce the log to the diameter of a handle comfortable to hold. And so you’ve made your maul. It is all one piece, impossible for the strongest man (or of course woman) to break.” He scrawled at the bottom of the page, “There is a kind of genius in that maul, that belongs to a placed people: to make of what is at hand a fine, durable tool at the cost only of skill and work.”
