When “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest” was released in 2011, I caught flack from people saying I didn’t know squat about anarchism. (It’s interesting to note that none of the assailants were anarchists.)
I know that the word “anarchist” stirs a lot of emotions, and I hesitated for years to use it. But it’s the correct word to describe who I am. Plus I’m old enough that I just don’t give a rat’s $#& what people say about me.
With the release of “The Anarchist’s Design Book,” I know this topic is going to come up again. So before you worry that reading my book is going to make you build bombs, you can do a little bit of reading and find out what North American Anarchism is really about.
In short: Anarchism is a tendency to avoid large organizations – governments, corporations and churches. It is not about violence. It is not about revolution. It is not a form of society that can ever be the majority. But it is, like I said, a tendency to favor the small over the huge. It favors individual over collective action. Self-reliance over consumerism.
Or, as I like to say: “To build rather than buy.”
It’s definitely not God-less. American anarchism has its roots in the foundation of Rhode Island over the principles of religious freedom. Read the entry on Anne Hutchinson at Wikipedia for a look at the pillars of anarchism on this continent.
It’s not anti-capitalist. The founder of American anarchism was Josiah Warren, an early 18th-century businessman and social experimenter. He dabbled in communism and socialism at New Harmony, Ind., before moving back to Cincinnati to found the Cincinnati Time Store. Personal property and the ability to own the fruits of your labor are at the core of aesthetic American anarchism. Read more about Warren here.
And if you really want to dig in, pick up a copy of “Native American Anarchism” (Loompanics Unlimited, 1983) by Eunice Minette Schuster – preferably at a used or independent bookstore.
Once you get through that reading list, then we’ll be ready to joust.
Woodworker, photographer and writer Andrew Sleigh kicked of his second series of podcasts on making last weekend for Resonance FM, a London radio station. The episodes are available for a free listen through the program’s website lookingsideways.net. You can subscribe to the podcast or simply listen to select episodes.
In the first episode, Sleigh interviews Deb Chachra, an associate professor of materials science at the Olin College of Engineering. It’s an interesting talk with someone who studies, teaches and classifies makers. (Be sure to read her thoughtful article in The Atlantic before listening; it will add an extra dimension to the conversation between Sleigh and Chachra.)
Sleigh has interviewed a list of interesting people for this second season of his podcast (he hasn’t posted the list, so I’ll let him do that). He also interviewed me about the Lost Art Press approach to creating books for makers – why we look backwards in time for our information. And why I think making simple, well-made furniture is a radical act.
From what I know about the other guests on Looking Sideways, I suspect my interview will represent the oddball, somewhat anti-intellectual view. We’ll see!
So if you need something to listen to on your commute to wage-slavery, Looking Sideways will make you think.
We’ll have our Lost Art Press storefront open this Saturday, April 9, from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. with lots of interesting stuff going on all day. Here’s the short list.
I’ll be finishing up a pair of staked chairs from “The Anarchist’s Design Book.” I assembled one chair today and will finish that with soap finish. I’ll assemble the second chair on Saturday with hide glue and wedges.
My daughter Katy will be selling her soft wax in 4 oz. tins. We have wax there so you can try it out on planed wood.
We’ll have a fair number of damaged and blemished Lost Art Press books at a significant discount. These blemished books are sold for cash only.
Free “Disobey Me” stickers.
Store-only red T-shirts from “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest.” These are American Apparel shirts printed locally in Fort Wright, Ky., and we carry size small to 2XL.
Note that a lot of the above items are exclusive to our storefront only. The quantities are too small or odd to allow us to put them in the online store. So stop by and say hello.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. If you are looking for other fun things to do in the city this weekend, check out this calendar of events.
Author’s Note: This is the third of a three-part interview with Chris about The Anarchist’s Tool Chest. If you missed the first two conversation, you can read them here and here. As promised, this final installment was generated entirely by reader questions. A special thank you to all of you who sent in questions for Chris, including the many thoughtful queries that I was unable to work into this interview.
Jeff:Chris, in The ATC you captured my attention because you interwove your heartfelt conviction about the state of modern consumerism into a book about traditional woodworking. Do you have other convictions that can likewise linked to how or why you’re in the craft? If so, any plans for a book along those lines?
Christopher Schwarz:Aesthetic anarchism is pretty much the framework for my approach to the craft and life. It even guides the way I buy music and food.
I have lots of other things I feel strongly about, but they don’t have much to do with the craft directly. For example, I don’t believe in free will (it’s a long explanation and not a religious one), but I probably shouldn’t write a woodworking book titled: “You were Supposed to Screw That Up.” I will have to give this some more thought, however. It’s a tough question.
Leslie: Chris, I’ve come to regard your time-honored design for an English sawbench as essential in my shop. But I have difficulty keeping the saw in alignment, especially when using postures that aren’t unduly tiring on my body. I’ve tried the posture you describe in The Anarchist’s Tool Chest [pp. 285 – 286], but had little luck. Could you please explain one or two alternative (but still efficient) body stances for using the sawbench?
CS: The only other body stances I know for sawbenches involve sitting down to rip (a la French) or some of Adam Cherubini’s odd foot stylings he showed in his Arts & Mysteries columns.
If the traditional stance doesn’t work, you might try overhand ripping at the bench. That works for most (and is what I prefer, actually)For crosscutting, try clamping the work to the sawbenches and see if you can employ one leg comfortably to stabilize the work.
Turning the saw around so the teeth face away from you is another solution, as in this photograph:
You’d have to have the work secured with clamps or perhaps one leg. It also spreads out the work between both arms, which helps some people. I am sure there are other stances out there. I just haven’t encountered them. Apologies.
Jacob: Hi Chris. My question is about the relationship between construction methods and philosophy. In The Anarchist’s Tool Chest, I thought you were arguing that the dovetail – because of its history in the craft, the skill it demonstrates, the tradition it represents – is emblematic of woodworking anarchy. Yet you’ve recently done away with this joinery in the “baby” ATC, and the only dovetails I’ve noticed in the posts about your forthcoming Furniture of Necessity are the sliding dados on the table.
Just so you understand where I’m coming from, last year I didn’t feel confident had cutting dovetails, so I actually had to make my ATC with rabbets and screws. But that gets to the heart of my question: What is the anarchist’s joint? Does the concept of a beginner’s chest supplant any of your arguments in The Anarchist’s Tool Chest? I guess I’m wondering if woodworking anarchy is more of a skill set or a mindset? Thank you.
CS: For me what is important is that the joinery be superior to the crap that falls apart in a few years. Nails and screws that have been thoughtfully driven can last 200 or 300 years.
It also relates to the material. Dovetailing melamine will probably end poorly.
So while I love the dovetail and think it is the end-all joint, screws and nails and other well-made joints in solid material can outlast us all. Whatever joint it is, make it well and use good materials – that’s the opposite of the typical factor-made thing.
Cameron: The Anarchist’s Tool Chest is a book that had a big impact on my making philosophy. Not only because it turned me on to hand tool woodworking, but because aesthetic anarchism as it was presented tied up a lot of the ideas that brought me to the craft in the first place. It was one of those great moments when you’re reminded there are people out there who feel the same way about something, and not only that, but here’s someone who is doing it in a way that can have a real impact on our culture. OK, fanboy bit finished. Now for my question:
As someone who works in the technology sector, I’m interested to know: Have you ever come across a furniture maker who exemplifies aesthetic anarchism while using automated technology? I can imagine a future where tools like Cad, Makerbot, CNC, and 3D printing – programed to produce traditional pieces with traditional joinery – could allow individuals to make more of their own goods, and probably in a smaller home workshop than we currently need.
CS: Tools are neutral. My table saw grants me freedom by feeding my family at times. When I worked in a factory shop, the table saw was a symbol of my submission.
What is important to me is that people make things instead of buying them (if possible). So CAD, 3D printing, laser-cutting, water-jet machines and Shopbots are all awesome ways to accomplish that goal.
But why do I like hand tools so much and encourage others to try them? Everything with a cord ends up n the landfill. Hand tools last centuries. Sustainability is important to me.
Hand tools have fewer limits than machines (think chisel vs. table saw). A table saw limits your cut with a table, a fence, the size of the rails and the diameter of the blade. A chisel has almost no limits when it comes to shaping wood.
But I try not be a jerk about it. If you make stuff, you’re cool in my book.
Brian: Following up on Cameron’s vision: Chris, ever the twain shall meet? Is craft anarchism essentially about the ends of furniture quality and maker independence? Or the means through which that furniture is made?
CS:It’s both. If you don’t make it, then you can’t have an end product. If you don’t have an end product, then you aren’t making anything.
I know it seems circular. It probably is. Maybe I should write a book on turning.
Stupidity aside: The ways and the means are equally important. You can’t have handmade objects without someone making them.
Brian: Or can you?…
Ethan (The Kilted Woodworker):Chris, can you confirm the rumor that all involved with the writing, editing, and publishing of The Anarchist’s Tool Chest have a secret tattoo hidden somewhere on their body?
CS: I’m 47. I was born in an era where only criminals and sailors had tattoos. And I don’t like needles. Plus, even if I had a tattoo, you’d never be able to find it beneath my fine layer of yeti fur.
The only time I feel like I’m a Deep South Bible salesman is when I try to convince people of the merits of hide glue. I’ve spent years honing my case for this glue, which is perfectly designed for furniture makers.
Among younger woodworkers, it’s an easy sell. But for people who have been using yellow or white glue for a decade or two, it’s typically hopeless.
And so I present to you these four photos that show one of the glue’s many merits.
Today I’m tidying up the carcase of a tool chest that is bound for a customer in two weeks. And I found an ugly film of glue that has squeezed out under the top skirt. I’d missed it because it had been obscured by the bar of a clamp.
No worries. I get a small bucket filled with the hottest tap water and fetch a toothbrush and a blue surgical rag.
I apply some of the hot water to the glue and rub it in with the rag. These surgical rags (available via mail order or from friends in the medical profession) don’t leave lint behind and have a very slight abrasive quality. But they don’t scratch the wood.
After about 30 seconds of rubbing, I switch to the toothbrush to make sure I get all the glue out of the corner. Then I dip the rag in the hot water anew, scrub the affected area and hit it again with the toothbrush. After a couple cycles the glue softens, then dissolves into the rag and the water. I dry off the area and I’m done.
There might still be a little bit of dissolved glue in the grain (which I cannot see), but as hide glue is transparent to most finishes, I’ve never had a problem.
This fix took about two minutes and there was zero chance of my gashing the wood with a scraper, chisel or shoulder plane.
By the way, this fix works on hide glue that is way older than I am.