Honestly, I thought this moviefilm was almost funny when I made it. But it’s not. As always, if you are dissatisfied with your blog subscription, simply write to us for a full refund.
(And yes, I know it should be “Occupational Safety & Health” – it’s a nod to our British friends who endure Health & Safety over there).
The Insanely Low Bar for Chair Comfort
Ever since I started selling stick chairs, potential customers have asked: “I like the look of your chairs, but are they comfortable?”
My canned response has been: “Compared to a La-Z-Boy, no. But compared to typical wooden chairs, yes, they are fairly comfortable.”
Last weekend I experienced a forced, painful and radical reassessment of my work.
For Thanksgiving, we went to St. Louis (city of my birth) to celebrate with my extended family. Because I lost my mom and dad recently, I’ve tried to strengthen ties to the family members still standing.
We stayed in an Airbnb downtown that was packed with factory-made Forest Chairs (what most people call Windsors). They looked nice and had some saddling to the seats. But after sitting in them for five minutes, I was in mortal agony. My back and my tailbone screamed in two-bone harmony. In my body’s defense, I added a pillow for lumbar support, which helped my back. But my poor coccyx might never be the same. It might not even be triangular anymore….
During the long weekend, I ended up sitting in a variety of factory-made hoop-back Forest Chairs. Each time, I was amazed at how awful they were. In fact, I think I stood during most of our four days out of town — just to avoid sitting in those chairs.
When I came home, I realized that I have been spoiled for a long time. The chairs I make and the chairs made by other woodworkers (Forest and stick chairs alike) are an entirely different universe compared to the factory-made stuff. For years I’ve been fretting over how comfortable my chairs are compared to those made by Peter Galbert and other chairmakers (and I always will fret). But I had forgotten just how low the bar is for comfort when it comes to wooden chairs.
So if you have been wondering how comfortable wooden chairs are that have been made with care by an individual, I have a new answer for you.
First, I’ll whip out my flattened coccyx (no, I won’t). Then I’ll say: For the love of corn — yes, they are far, far more comfortable.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. Sales pitch: I cover in detail how I make my chairs comfortable in “The Stick Chair Book.” I don’t have any secrets (except the shape of my coccyx).
For Sale Via Silent Auction: Comb-back Stick Chair
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….
— Christopher Schwarz
The Use of the Plow Plane
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.
— Christopher Schwarz
The following is excerpted from “The Art of Joinery,” by Joseph Moxon.
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.
That’s Iron Abuse, Mister
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.
— Christopher Schwarz