During the last few months I have pushed my work back into the realm of the old-style stick chairs that caught my attention in the 1990s. This latest example explores what I love about the early lightweight chairs, which were built with whatever materials (Branches? Curved sticks?) were available.
This chair is built using black cherry from the Ohio River Valley. It is assembled using hide glue, so the joints are reversible should it ever need repairs (in 100 years or so). Like many early chairs, all the components are shaped by hand, and so this chair has a lot of texture.
Wille Sundqvist standing in front of two tool chests. The tool chest mentioned in the story below is the one to the left.
Many of you have asked how the crowdfunding campaign to save Wille Sundqvist’s tools turned out, which we first wrote about here. With a goal of $4,000, the campaign raised $19,183 in just a couple days. Here’s what happened.
When Jögge Sundqvist’s father Wille Sundqvist died in 2018, Jögge and his two brothers assumed that many of Wille’s tools, sculptures and items from his shop would go to them, particularly to Jögge, who has been instrumental in keeping his father’s legacy alive by teaching traditional carving methods via books, videos and classes around the world. Wille lived his last years in Högland, a small village in the Bjurholm Municipality.
And although Jögge and his brothers have been in agreement throughout the entire process of dealing with their father’s estate, there have been others who have not; as so often happens with families, wills and second marriages, things got complicated.
Wille made many horses in his lifetime, including this one in 1991.
The only items that were given to Jögge and his brothers were three horses their father made when he was between the ages of 12 and 16 years old. This is the one that was given to Jögge.
For the first 10 years of Jögge’s life, he and his family lived in an apartment where his dad had his little workshop in the boys’ bedroom. Jögge and his brothers slept on stacked beds next to their father’s workbench, chopping block, axes and saws, and a beautiful tool chest with a precise interior with parts that flipped in and folded out so that every tool had its special place. It’s a long and private story, but even after offering to spend what translates to nearly $1,800 USD months prior to this most recent auction, Jögge and his brothers were unable to gain ownership of their father’s tool chest.
Eventually Wille’s house was sold and all its contents were put up for auction. If Jögge or either of his brothers wanted anything that was still available, they were going to have to buy it. When a Facebook announcement came up about the auction Jögge instinctively posted something along the lines of hoping that the people who buy his father’s remaining tools and things take care of his father’s heritage and share his stories.
In less than 20 minutes Jögge received a message from Ty Thornock.
Jögge first met Ty several years ago. Jögge was teaching up north and Ty, who lived close by, sent Jögge a message and said he wanted to say hi and have a fika (coffee).
“So we did,” Jögge says. “We had a coffee. And that was right after my father’s death. And then all of a sudden he shows me a spoon he made with some kolrosing in it. And it was a picture of my father, in the spoon blade. And I was totally – it was so nice of him. It was so gentle and so warm and he did it in such a beautiful way. And I was so happy to have that spoon. So this is one of the treasures now in my home. He actually gave it to me. He was such a nice guy.”
The spoon Ty made for Jögge.
Ty and Jögge have kept in touch, and Jögge says that Ty has also generously helped him write about kolrosing techniques for his new forthcoming book about Scandinavian chip carving.
So Ty’s a great guy. And he messages Jögge to ask, “Do you want me to set up a GoFundMe?”
Now Jögge had never heard of GoFundMe.
Ty asked how much Jögge thought he needed to cover the tools. Thinking of only the tools and nothing else, Jögge suggested $4,000 USD and sent Ty a picture of Wille. At 6 p.m., Ty posted the campaign on the GoFundMe website. And Jögge? Well, he was invited to dinner at woodworker Beth Moen’s place.
“We had a wonderful evening, good food and we had such a good time together,” Jögge says. “I mean, we’ve known each other since the early ’80s and we’re deep friends.”
Once home that evening, at about 11 p.m., Jögge finally looked at his phone again. “What?” was all he could say.
The campaign had already raised $15,000 USD.
“That was so amazing,” he says. “I couldn’t believe my eyes. I said, there must be something wrong with this. Because I know the slöjd world. I’ve been teaching in Europe, England, United States, Japan, all over. And I know many people in the slöjd world aren’t very rich people. So I was totally blown away. I called my brothers and said, ‘Wow. This is amazing. The slöjd community did it. Now we can buy tools and items from this auction as we want.’”
A few months after Wille died, Jögge had reached out to the municipality of Bjurholm to talk about creating some sort of installation, a memory room if you will. The problem? It’s one of the smallest municipalities in Sweden, just 2,500 people, and not a lot of money is available for such endeavors. And when all the problems with obtaining the items began, the conversations halted. But now? Jögge entered the auction with a new vision.
“I had this in my mind that maybe we could buy things that could represent my father in the room with some text, some videos, some items and some tools,” he says. “So during the auction I tried to buy stuff that would represent his workshop. So I got the chopping block, I got some axes, I got some sketches, I got his apron, I got his signs from the workshop – I think I have a pretty decent collection now, which is special in showing who he was. So I’m very happy about getting all these things.”
Jögge was able to buy his father’s axe at the auction, but missed the saw.
This is the back cover photo from Wille Sundqvist’s book “Tälja med kniv och yxa,” (“Swedish Carving Techniques”). Wille carved on the train when he was traveling. Jögge was able to purchase one of his father’s leather’s aprons at the auction, thanks to money raised.
Jögge says he also felt a sense of relief knowing these items weren’t purchased using his money or his brothers’ money.
“This is the slöjd community in the world that stood up and said, Fight for it! Go for it!,” he says. “And without that I don’t know if I would have been able to actually have the power to do that because it takes – when you lose a father, which you had taken a responsibility for the cultural heritage that he tried to pass on, it’s so tough. And it was so emotional to go there in the workshop and see all the people in the workshop, looking at the things and wanting to buy them and all that stuff. I couldn’t stand it. So I was just sitting outside waiting for the auction to begin. But then knowing that people around the world were in my back, so to say, was just kind of, I was so happy, you know. When I came home, feeling that, OK, well we solved this, we finally kept a private collection and managed to spread the word about my father, with a little help from my friends.”
And the funding truly was worldwide. Jögge laughs and says only a few Swedes contributed money to the campaign, simply because they couldn’t understand it.
“This way of financing things in Sweden is way beyond,” Jögge says. “It’s not happening at all. We have no tradition of private people giving money to others. Because we have a social democratic society you apply for grants or official funding.”
Some of the Swedes who were following this on social media even sent Jögge private messages. “Oh, something is going on?” Jögge says, reciting a typical message. “‘Do you actually need money?’ They couldn’t realize it was happening! It was so special. For a Swede, seeing this, it was blowing my mind in a way.”
Wille Sundqvist’s tool chest
Jögge and his brothers still don’t have the tool chest, some meaningful sculptures and some items that are personally important to them. There’s still a lot of hurt.
“For us, it’s not the money,” he says. “I have to be clear about that. It’s not the money. Even though I’m not a rich man. For me it’s the memory and the stories about father and what he actually achieved with his work that I want to preserve.”
But because of the grand generosity of the worldwide slöjd and woodworking community, Jögge was able to save many of his father’s personal effects. The remaining money will be used to support the Wille Sundqvist and Bill Coperthwaite Slöjd Fellowship, a grant that is awarded every year to craftspeople around the world who are dedicated to sharing their crafts with other people. Jögge says recipients have included Beth Moen, JoJo Wood, Jarrod Dahl, Peter Follansbee, Robin Wood and Masashi Kutsuwa.
“That feels like a really good thing, that this money can come back to people in that way,” he says.
Jögge is also reserving some money to resume talks with Bjurholm Municipality, with hopes of creating a space to honor his father’s legacy.
“So that’s the plan!” Jögge says. “And I hope it’s going to work out.”
When we published “The Book of Plates” years ago, we received many questions from customers as to why they should buy a book filled with pictures of dinner plates.
“Plate” is, of course, an old word for “engraving.” And the pictures in the book were not of dinner plates, but of the drawings in A.J. Roubo’s “l’Art de Menuisier.”
But today we’re going to talk about a delftware dinner plate from 1769 that shows an interior of a nice woodworking shop with lots of tools, a workbench and (perhaps) a zombie attack.
The plate appeared on the cover of The Magazine Antiques’ May 1981 issue and was in the collection of James C. Sorber, a well-known Pennsylvania collector. I learned about this plate from Dan, a woodworking comrade in Texas, and so I bought an old back issue to examine it.
Delftware has its origins in the Netherlands, and so it didn’t surprise me to see a Dutch saw hanging on the back wall of the shop. The other tools on the back wall are typical for the time, including the chisels with the fishtail blades, the braces, the nail pincers and the dividers.
The workbench is interesting (of course). It gives me a Dutch vibe as well. It bears some resemblance to the one shown in the altarpiece at St. John’s Church in Gouda (circa 1565). The Gouda bench has six legs, with the front three pierced with many holes for pegs or holdfasts. No vises.
My drawing of the Gouda workbench from “The Anarchist’s Workbench.”
The 1769 bench also features three “legs” pierced with many legs for holdfasts or pegs. No vises. But two of the legs are drawn more like sliding board jacks (aka deadmen). Though a bench with two sliding board jacks is unusual – this is the first one I’ve seen.
I’m not sure what tool the woodworker is using on the bench. It looks like a scorp or travisher to me. But I have chairs on the brain.
Also, we have to keep in mind that the purpose of this plate was not designed to educate, but to immobilize some gravy or restrain some pudding.
With that in mind, let’s take a look at the guy to the right. At first I thought he was destroying the picture frames leaning against the wall. Then I looked at his feet, and it appears he is standing on a board. It looks like he’s holding an axe, but it could be an adze. In either case, he really should look where he is cutting, or the artist will have to add some red glaze to the plate.
In fact, I think he looks poised for a 18th-century zombie attack on the workshop. If this plate were indeed made in the Netherlands, then they are probably Spanish zombies.
And now I am going to end this blog entry before it gets too ridiculous.
Editor’s note: When I first encountered this book in the 1990s, I read it reluctantly. I wasn’t much interested in making wooden planes, but I was still in the “I’ll read anything about woodworking” phase. About 10 pages into the book, I was hooked. This isn’t just a book about making planes, this is a book about setting up tools and machines to a very high level so you can do truly excellent work (such as making planes). I read and re-read the book several times, loaned it to friends and eventually wore it out.
When the book went out of print, we were thrilled to bring it back with David’s help. The Lost Art Press hardback edition is made in the United States with pages that are stitched, glued and taped. I seriously doubt you could wear it out. But feel free to try.
David is still an active woodworker (and nice guy) and focuses on violins now. Check out his work here.
These wooden planes are associated closely with James Krenov (who wrote the book’s foreword). We published the definitive biography of Krenov by Brendan Gaffney: “James Krenov: Leave Fingerprints.”
Use sharp 1/2-inch-wide, 4 teeth-per-inch (TPI) wood-cutting blades. Hook-tooth blades cut faster and rougher, and skip-tooth blades cut smoother and more slowly. Skip/hook-tooth blades (sometimes called “furniture bands”) are a hybrid that I prefer, combining adequate speed with a smooth cut (1–13).
Critically examine the blade weld. The sides should be smooth and free of lumps. Check that the blade was properly aligned when welded by gauging the back edge of the blade with a six-inch straightedge; it should present a straight line (1–13). Faulty welds are fairly common and seriously undermine the performance of the saw. The blade may bump and shudder each time it contacts the thrust guide. A lump in the weld may prevent the side-mounted guides from being spaced closely enough to support the blade adequately. Keep blades and tires free of gummy deposits and sawdust. Scrub them off with the metal bristles of a file card at the first sign of buildup.
Set the upper and lower saw guides precisely. Arrange them as close as possible to the blade without rubbing it. The side-mounted guides are positioned just behind the gullets (the arcing gaps separating each tooth) of the blade (1–14). The guides on the back of the band saw, the thrust guides, contact the blade as soon as sawing commences.
1–14. Properly adjusted guides on a band saw.
Tensioning the blade correctly dramatically improves the quality of cut. Unplug the saw and remove the upper wheel cover. Tension the blade while slowly rotating the wheel by hand to stretch the blade evenly. Occasionally twang the free section of the blade (the portion unencumbered by guides) and note the increase in pitch. It goes from a rattle to a very low but discernible tone and proceeds to climb in pitch with increases in tension. Best results usually come with the blade tensioned to a clear, musical tone. Spin the wheel a turn or two to see if the blade is tracking in the center of the tire, adjust the blade if necessary, and reinstall the wheel cover.
If the wheels have been trued and crowned and the saw is running smoothly, the tension can be fine-tuned with the saw running. Bring the upper guide post down low to the table to provide maximum protection from the blade. Loosen the upper and lower guides so that they are well away from the blade. Turn on the saw and observe the blade, assisted by bright lighting and a white background. If the tension is correct, the blade will appear sharply in focus with no trace of flutter. The blade looks blurry if it’s vibrating.
Try altering the blade tension in very small increments while the saw is running. Be careful! Keep well away from the blade while making the adjustments and pay attention to where the blade is tracking. As the tension is increased, the blade creeps forward on the tire, and as it is decreased, the blade creeps back. Carefully alter the tracking adjustment while tensioning the blade to keep it in the center of the tire. Scrutinize the blade after each adjustment.
When the flutter is gone, stop the saw, note the position of the pointer on the tension scale (if the saw has one) for future reference, and twang the blade once again to get an idea of the amount of tension on the blade. If the saw is less than an industrial-quality machine, consider relieving the blade tension when it is not in use to save wear on the bearings and castings. As a pertinent aside, remember, when a blade breaks or hops off the wheel, a loud bang ensues from the release of spring tension on the upper wheel (provided by the blade and the spring on the upper wheel assembly). When this happens, cut the power immediately. Then step back and wait for both wheels to coast to a stop.
BAND-SAW CHECKUP Properly trued and crowned tires and a saw free from excessive vibration critically impact the saw’s performance. These points are easy to check, as described below. Corrective measures are not difficult, but go beyond the scope of this book. For more information on tuning band saws, refer to Mark Duginske’s Band Saw Handbook.
Trueness and Crown Every point where the blade contacts the perimeter of the tires must be the same distance from the axis of the wheels. If not, the tire is “out of true” and the blade will undergo changes in tension, resulting in potentially excessive vibration.
“Crown” is the convex arc across the width of the tire. Lacking sufficient crown, the blade will not track properly, wandering on the face of the tire, even hopping off completely.
Checking Tire Trueness Unplug the saw and remove the wheel covers and the blade. Use the guide post, the table, or some other convenient part of the saw to steady a stick, and hold its end about 1/32 inch from the surface of the tire, where the blade would normally ride. Spin the wheel slowly by hand and observe the gap between the tire and stick (1–15). If the width of the gap holds steady, the wheel is true; if it fluctuates, the tire is out of true. Check both tires.
1–15. Checking the circumference of a band-saw tire for trueness.
Checking Tire Crown Place a six-inch ruler on edge, across the width of the tire. Rocking the ruler end to end should reveal a nicely rounded arc. With the ruler centered on the high point of this arc, there should be about 1/16 inch of space between the edges of the tire and the edge of the ruler (1–16).
1–16. Evaluating the amount of tire crown.
VIBRATION Excessive vibration results in rough and wandering cuts. To check for vibration, with the saw running, lay a small wrench near the edge of the table. It should remain there quietly without moving. Any rattling or motion betrays excessive vibration. By systematically isolating portions of the drive system, vibration sources can be isolated and rectified.
We are in the final stages of producing our latest tool, a Crucible Planing Stop that is easy to install, looks similar to a traditional hand-forged stop and is reasonably priced (about $49).
I hope this tool will be out by the end of the year, but we are at the mercy of our supply chain, which loves to whip us almost every day.
Here’s why I think the world needs another planing stop.
I love blacksmith-made planing stops, which are embedded in the end of a block of wood that is about 2-1/2” x 2-1/2” x 12”. The block is friction-fit into a mortise in the benchtop and moves up and down with mallet taps.
For me, the planing stop is as important as the workbench’s face vise and has almost-endless uses.
My main problem with a blacksmith planing stop is that it can be tricky to install. You need to drill a stepped hole in the block of wood or heat up the shaft of the planing stop in a forge and burn it into the block. And there is always the risk of splitting the block during the process.
Also, some people think that blacksmith stops are too expensive (I disagree), which can cost $100 to $300.
The Crucible Planing Stop is made from ductile iron, so it can take a beating. Hit it with a metal sledge, and it will not shatter (unlike typical gray iron). The teeth and the angle of the head of the stop are based on A.J. Roubo’s planing stop from the 18th century.
And – this is important – it is easy to install. Here’s how you do it: Buy a 5/8” (or 16mm) spade bit (less than $10). Drill a full-depth hole in the block of wood and remove the sawdust and chips. Drop the shaft of the planing stop into the hole and it will stop about 1” from the bottom of the hole. Knock it with a hammer a few times and the stop will cut its way into the hole and bed itself in place. Done.
It’s a dirt-simple tool, but getting to this point took more than a year of experimenting with hand-forged stops, developing the casting patterns and (where we are now) developing the risering so the liquid metal goes where it needs to go.
RIght now we are trying to get on the foundry’s schedule as soon as possible. We will let you know when the wheels have started moving.
