Today I am putting up for sale this eight-stick comb-back chair that is finished in milk paint. This chair is being sold via silent auction – details of the auction are below. But first, here is some information about the chair itself.
This chair is a new design and is (I think) a successful effort to make a chair that’s ideal for both dining and relaxing. The chair has a newly designed armbow, plus some different geometry for the back, sticks and undercarriage. These changes add comfort without taking away the animalistic stance of the classic stick chair.
The chair is made from red oak, slippery elm and poplar, which are local materials that have been chosen to make the chair both strong and lightweight. The entire chair is assembled using hide glue, which is a reversible adhesive. This allows the chair to be repaired with ease by future generations.
The chair is finished in Sinopia milk paint in Bardini Blue, a non-toxic and durable finish. The paint has been hand-burnished to a low sheen and has a topcoat of linseed oil/beeswax finish. This is a time-intensive hand-applied finish with texture and character. The paint is slightly burnished through in places, and you will see neat brush marks.
Overall, the chair is 39-1/2” high x 25” wide x 25” deep. The seat is 16” x 20”, which accommodates most frames. The seat is 16-3/4” high, an ideal height for most operations and most sitters. And the back reclines at 14°, which makes it suitable for dining, keyboarding and relaxing.
A Silent Auction
During the last few years, I’ve had people ask to purchase chairs for a price far above the list price (two or three times the list). These potential buyers were frustrated with the first-come-first-served way I sell my chairs. I get that. It’s a scramble. But I like to be able to sell chairs at a price that many working people can afford.
So after some thought, I’m going to experiment with some different methods of selling chairs.
About half of my chairs will be first-come-first-served like I have always done it, with prices starting at $900 to $1,500. (As always, prices may go up in the future as supplies become more expensive or the chairs become more labor-intensive.)
The remainder will be sold using other methods. For this chair, I will use a silent auction. Simply submit your best bid to fitz@lostartpress.com before 8 p.m. (Eastern) on Saturday, Dec. 4. There is no minimum bid, and the highest bid wins. The winner will be contacted on Saturday after the auction closes.
(On shipping: You can pick up the chair, or I will deliver it within 100 miles of Cincinnati for free. Otherwise, I can ship it via common carrier to addresses in the continental U.S. This usually costs between $150 and $270, depending on where you live.)
In the future I will also experiment with a raffle. (Anyone who wants to buy the chair at the retail price will have a week to put their name in a digital hat. Then a buyer will be selected at random.)
Please remember that this is an experiment. I am trying to find a way to maintain my dignity as both a chairmaker and a breadwinner. However, I might just tick everyone off. Then I’ll flop and end up getting a day job. So if you see me cleaning up sloth poo at the Cincinnati Zoo….
The first book we published at Lost Art Press was “The Art of Joinery,” which was a reprint of the earliest English-language text on woodworking – plus some modern commentary from me. The book did well enough to buy us a few cases of good beer, so John and I decided to publish a second book. And now, 53 books later….
“The Art of Joinery” by Joseph Moxon has always been fascinating reading for me. When I first got my hands on a copy, I thought: Now I will learn the secrets of 17th-century joinery. But after reading Moxon a dozen times, I was shocked by how little had changed between the 17th century and the 21st. The tools, processes and mindset were very familiar (after I got past some unusual spellings).
So why even read the book? It represents one of the foundations of our craft, and it is written by an observer – not a practitioner – of the craft. And so it crackles with excitement as Moxon (a printer by trade) learns about an allied skill. And it is a window to an earlier world that we can easily relate to as Moxon documents sharpening, making boards flat and cutting a mortise-and-tenon joint.
The book was eventually followed up by Peter Nicholson’s “Mechanic’s Companion,” which is still as useful today as it was in 1812 for hand-tool woodworkers. Together, these two books are the foundation of our hand-tool knowledge in English.
“The Art of Joinery” is also unique in our catalog for the way it is printed. The pages have a rough outer edge – called a “deckle” edge – that mimics the look of early books. And the undyed paper was selected because it looks like early rag paper. All-in-all, it’s a fun book to read and contemplate.
S. 8. The use of the plow. The plow marked B 6. is a narrow rabbet plane with some additions to it, including two square staves, marked a a {yet some of them have the upper edges of the staves rounded off for the better compliance [fit] with the hand}. These staves are let through two square mortises in the stock, marked “b b.” The staves are about seven or eight inches long and stand straight and square on the far side of the stock. These two staves have shoulders on the closer side of the stock that reach down to the wooden sole of the plane {for there is also an iron sole belonging to the plow}. To the bottom of these two shoulders is riveted with iron rivets a fence {as workmen call it}, which comes close under the wooden sole, and its depth reaches below the iron sole about half an inch. Because the iron of the plow is very narrow and the sides of it towards the bottom are not to be enclosed in the stock {for the same reason that was given in the rabbet plane}, therefore upon the stock is let in, and strongly nailed, an iron plate that is the thickness of the plow iron. [That is because] wood [alone] of that breadth will not be strong enough to endure the force the lower end of the plow iron is put to. This iron plate is almost of the same thickness that the breadth of a plow iron is. Joiners have several plows for several widths of grooves.
The office of the plow is to plow a narrow, square groove on the edge of a board. The board is set on edge with one end in the bench-screw, and its other edge upon a pin or pins that are put into a hole or holes in the leg or legs of the bench. Such a hole or holes [are chosen that] will most conveniently for height, fit the breadth of the board. Then the fence of the plow is set to that distance off the iron plate of the plow that you intend the groove shall lie off the edge of the board. If you would have the groove lie half an inch off the [edge of the] board, then the two staves must with the mallet be knocked through the mortises in the stock until the fence stands half an inch off the iron plate. And if the staves are fitted stiff enough in the mortises of the stock, it will keep at that distance while you plow the groove. For the fence {lying lower than the iron of the plane}: When you set the iron of the plow upon the edge of the board, [it] will lie flat against the farther edge of the board, and so [it will] keep the iron of the plow all the length of the board at the same distance from the edge of the board that the iron of the plow has [been set by the user] from the fence. Therefore [with] your plow being thus fitted, [you can] plow the groove as you work with other planes; only as you hold on the stock of other planes when you use them, now you must lay hold of the two staves and their shoulders and so thrust your plow forwards until your groove be made to your depth.
If the staves are not stiff enough in the mortises in the stock, you must stiffen them by knocking a little wooden wedge between the staves and their mortises.
Analysis Moxon’s plow is widely reported as a mirror image of the same tool in Félibien’s work. And that is why this picture of this plow is like a Gucci bag for sale on an urban street corner. It looks OK from about 10 feet. But on closer inspection, this is not the plow you’re looking for.
Unlike many tools in Moxon, the plow has evolved quite a bit since his description. And you’d be unlikely to find a plow as he describes. Let’s look at the differences between the Moxon plow and some ultra-contemporary (19th-century) ones.
1 The posts or staves. Moxon states that the staves move through the body of the tool to adjust the fence. The fence is fixed to the staves. This kind of wooden plow was common in England and North America but not Europe. In typical European plows (which is what is shown in the accompanying plate) the staves are fixed to the body and the fence slides on them.
2 From many plows, one. Moxon states that the mechanic would have a different plow for every size groove. Modern plows have interchangeable irons in a range of sizes.
3 How the fence is set. In Moxon’s book, the staves and fence are friction-fit into mortises. So you tap the fence and staves to move the fence closer to or farther away from the cutter (with wedges to help). Modern plows use something mechanical to secure the fence, from thumbscrews to screws to far, far more clever mechanisms.
4 No depth stop. All but the most primitive plow planes have a depth stop that stops the plane’s cutting action when you reach your final depth. No mention of a depth stop is made in Moxon.
As to actually using the plow, Moxon merely states that you set the fence and thrust it forward like the other planes. This would imply that you start planing at one end and take a shaving to the other end. This can work. However, many craftsmen use a different technique.
Many start near the far end of the board and take a short stroke with the plow to start cutting a groove just a few inches long. Then each following stroke is a little bit longer as the woodworker backs up along the length of the board.
You can indeed do exactly what Moxon suggests, but the chances of your iron wandering by following the grain of the board are greater.
By taking short, advancing strokes, you can keep the plow’s fence against the work during the part of the cut that is new, then the cutter drops into the already-made groove and the tool won’t jump out. Plus, if your plow plane does wander, it will be for a shorter distance, and you’ll get an opportunity to make a correction before the tool wanders so far that your work is ruined. Here’s another tip on use: Give each of your hands only one job to do when working with the plow. Use one hand to thrust the plane forward. Use the other hand to press the fence against the work. Don’t try to make both hands do both jobs.
We just received our first fully finished sample of our new Crucible Planing Stops. The cast ductile iron stops are all poured and are about halfway through the grinding process. So it won’t be long now.
The stops will cost less than $50. And they are incredibly simple to install:
Drill a 5/8” hole in the wooden block for your planing stop
Pound the iron stop in
Uh, done.
Whenever we post photos of this planing stop or our holdfast, people remind us that cast iron is fragile. It’s a stupid material to use to make a holdfast or planing stop. You can’t hit it with a hammer – it will shatter. Heck, it will shatter when you drop it on the floor.
Even when we tell people it is ductile iron, they respond: Actually, you can’t make holdfasts from ducks, ducts or tile, either. Do the research!
Today, I beat our planing stop samples with a lump hammer more than 100 times each to see what would happen. As always, the answer is: nothing.
Just a reminder that at 10 a.m. Eastern today (Nov. 29), classes for the first half of 2022 open for registration. Click here to see the shortlist of all the classes; click on any of the class title for more information. And if you have questions about any of the classes, please email covingtonmechanicals@gmail.com (not the Lost Art Press helpdesk).
Note: It is entirely in the realm of possibilities that the events recounted may have been slightly exaggerated. Nevertheless, it is all true.
Towards the middle of August on nice pre-autumn afternoon I was in the backyard minding my own business when, with a loud bang, something hit the garage roof. A second later, at the far edge of my peripheral vision, something whizzed by and landed with a sharp crack on the driveway. (Here it should be noted that the last time my vision was tested at the DMV office the agent said my peripheral vision was extremely good.) Whatever it was, it missed. Minutes later it happened again with the “missile” missing my head by just a few inches. It crossed my mind that it would be advantageous to take cover in the garage. When the barrage ended I collected the spent shot from the garage walkway and the driveway.
It was the Mockernut! Our hickory tree was throwing murder marbles at me! I was appalled. This is the tree that provides much-needed shade in the summer and gorgeous golden leaves in the autumn. This is the tree I always stop to give a pat to when walking by. It is solid, straight, true. And, apparently, a punk teenager.
The Mockernut hickory, Caryatomentosa, is a member of the Juglandaceae, the walnut family. Our tree is around 55-60 feet high and at least 40-45 years old. These trees don’t start producing murder marbles until they are 25 years old. That seems such a long ”childhood” until you learn they are both slow-growing and long-lived, with some trees reaching the age of 500 years.
As woodworkers are well aware, hickory wood is extremely hard and is an excellent wood for tool handles. The nuts are also exceedingly hard. People who enjoy hiking or camping in the forest and who have unfortunately lost their food supply to bears can enjoy a snack of hickory nuts if they happen to have brought along a sledge hammer. Try as I might, none of the many nutcrackers in the house could open a fresh Mockernut nut. Hickory nuts are an important food source for squirrels, rabbits and other wildlife, but how in the world do they get them open? Being much smarter than the average human they gather the nuts and wait. After a few weeks of aging the nuts are much easier to open.
Perhaps our Mockernut was feeling feisty after several “off” years and the beating it took last year. On a warm day in April 2020 we had what seemed to be a mini-derecho tear through our neighborhood. In just 15 to 20 minutes shearing winds tore thousands of leaves and small branches from trees. The wind was accompanied by hailstones the size of nickels and quarters. When the wind and hail stopped every surface was covered with ragged green leaves and the air was filled with a fog as the hailstones melted. Weeks afterward the damage inflicted on the springtime trees, especially to the crowns, was hard to miss. In our yard the Mockernut and Southern red oaks faired much worse than the white oaks.
Beyond the deep shade it provides in the summer the Mockernut is an important part of our yard’s ecosystem. It is home to myriad insects that provide food for several bird species. For many birds it is an intermediate stop and refuge on the way to the water bowls. The squirrels have made it their highway connecting their nesting trees to the yard. The Mockernut is also an important feature in squirrel parkour exercises and several branches are used as napping sites during the summer.
I have to admit the initial attack brought back childhood memories of the apple trees in the “Wizard of Oz.” It was upsetting to see an apple tree, mind you a talking apple tree, slap Dorothy and then pelt her with apples. Although there were days when there were so many nuts on the ground walking felt more like in-line skating, I made my peace with the Mockernut. Or so I thought. Just a few days ago we had a light rain followed by a nice breeze. I was in the yard minding my own business when suddenly, WHAPP! I was struck on the side of my head by a golden compound Mockernut leaf.