Editor’s note: In this Chair Chat, Chris gets a visitor and we conspire to hijack Lost Art Press while he’s gone. Rudy wonders how to get that “shiny brown finish,” and Chris explains his theory on creating Worm Holes. Please only read further if you dare to enter the area on the Lost Art Press blog reserved for the cool people who can appreciate deep quality humor.
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We Have No Class(es) at LAP
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/IMG_5437.jpg)
I’ve been getting many questions lately about classes at our storefront; right now, we have none scheduled. We won’t schedule any here until everyone here has gotten the COVID-19 vaccination, and until the adoption thereof is widespread.
I know some schools have released schedules and opened registration for this year – I’m rolling the dice on getting stuck (twice) in time to safely teach at two of them: Berea, Kentucky’s Woodworking School at Pine Croft May 14-16 (Dutch tool chest) and Tampa’s Florida School of Woodworking Sept. 20-24 (Anarchist’s Tool Chest).
But our shop is also Chris’ family home, so we’re not taking any chances.
And when it is safe for us to schedule classes again, I have no idea what they will be…except that I will teach a tool chest class of some kind, natch.
In the meantime, you can catch me at one of the schools above, and catch Chris online at Colonial Williamsburg’s 23rd Annual Working Wood in the 18th Century conference. He’s speaking on period workholding on low workbenches and showing how to make a staked stool, as well as delivering an after-dinner talk on how studying the architecture around you can make you a better furniture designer. If you’re interested in Chris’ talks, best hurry; conference registration closes Jan. 8 at 8 a.m. EST. (The conference is a live stream Jan. 14-17, and some sessions will be available on demand.)
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/IMG_6727.jpg)
And Now They Are ‘Forrest Chairs’
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/Chair-2-Laws-of-Hywel-Dda.jpg)
Editor’s note: The following is a draft chapter from “The Stick Chair Book,” due out later this year. I just wanted to give Peter Galbert a heads up that we’re changing every reference to “Windsors” in “Chairmaker’s Notebook” (just kidding). This piece has been updated to reflect ongoing changes in the manuscript.
When people see a stick chair for the first time, a typical response is to call it a “primitive Windsor.” Unfortunately, every syllable of that expression is incorrect.
And that’s OK. We live in a world where the term “Windsor” has expanded like a gas to mean almost any piece of furniture where stick-y components are mortised into a plank – Windsor table, Windsor stool, Windsor bench, Windsor printer stand.
It does make you wonder: Where did this furniture come from? A place called Windsor?
Perhaps.
As furniture historians point out, the origin of the word “Windsor” to describe a class of chairs is complicated and has yet to be definitively settled.
So let’s start at the beginning. Furniture where legs are tenoned into a plank – what is sometimes called “staked furniture” – goes back at least to the ancient Egyptians. Three-legged staked stools with beautifully curved legs and a saddled seat have been found at Thebes (1400 BCE). And the National Museums of Scotland has a similar one from the same time period.
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/egyptian-staked-stool.jpg)
Staked furniture of all kinds shows up in Western paintings and drawings through most of human history. Stools, benches and tables are the most common forms. So, the idea of putting sticks into a slab of wood is at least 3,400 years old.
What I’m interested in, of course, is this: When did people start making chairs this way?
The simple question is complicated a bit by language. The term “stool” can sometimes mean a “backstool,” which is a stool with a backrest that is a solid board or an array of sticks. Some people consider a backstool a “chair” and not a stool. So that clouds the timeline. Old writings that mention “stools” might actually mean “backstools” and those might be chair-like.
The earliest stick chair – legs, seat, arms and backrest – that I know of is from a Welsh book of laws that dates from the late 12th century or the middle 13th century. The book is the “Laws of Hywel Dda”; the chairs are drawn in a particular copy that was written in Latin instead of Welsh (this copy is referred to as the “Peniarth MS 28”).
The book is illustrated and has two images of important men sitting in chairs (one is at the beginning of this chapter). Both appear to be armchairs. Both chairs have tapered legs below the seat. One has sticks under its arms, and the other has four shapes below the arm. The shapes could be cut-outs in a solid plank. Or the shapes could be objects holding up the arm.
John Brown, who coined the term “Welsh stick chairs” when he wrote the book of the same name, insisted that the word “Windsor” didn’t apply to these sorts of chairs.
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/Chair-in-Laws-of-Hywel-Dda.jpg)
“Welsh Windsor chairs sounds to me like saying Welsh Scottish oatcakes, or Welsh Wexford glass” he wrote. “The chairs I am writing about are very definitely Welsh, and they are called stick chairs in Wales. They do, however, fulfil exactly the definition of what has come to be known, in Britain and the United States, as Windsor chairs. My judgement is to stay true to my original thoughts; only time will tell if I am mistaken.”
So if early stick chairs aren’t Windsors, where did Windsor chairs come from?
First, let’s dispense with the myth about the origins of Windsor chairs that gets repeated in popular culture.
“The most popular meaning stems from the story which describes how George III was caught in a rainstorm near Windsor,” writes Ivan G. Sparkes in “The English Country Chair” (1973). “Taking refuge in a cottage, His Highness sat on the best chair in the room and being well pleased with its comfort, required similar ones to be made for Windsor Castle. Unfortunately for this theory, the style existed and was so called long before the Georges came to the throne of England!”
Another (slightly more plausible) theory appears in “Popular Technology; or Professions and Trades. Hazen’s Panorama” (1846) by Edward Hazen.
“The Windsor chair seems to have been first used for a rural seat in the grounds about Windsor castle, England; whence its name. It was originally constructed of round wood, with the bark on; but the chair-makers soon began to make them of turned wood, for the common purposes of house-keeping.”
I do like that this theory hints that bark-on sticks played a part in the history of the Windsor and they were originally outdoor chairs.
In the last decade or so, historians have used probate inventories and paintings to present a clearer picture of the origin of the term. The best synopsis of the current thinking was published in Regional Furniture, Vol. XXIV, by Robert F. Parrott in 2010.
The most interesting part of the evidence are two inventories taken two years apart of the same household, one in 1721 and the other in 1723. The first inventory was for the husband who died of a stroke; in the listing of the equipment for the garden are “Forty eight Forrest Chairs.” Two years later there is another inventory, and in the section on garden equipment are listed 60 “Windsor” chairs. Presumably these are the same chairs, but the household has bought another dozen.
“Presumably therefore, the type of seat originally described as a ‘Forrest’ chair sometimes went under the alternative name of a ‘Windsor’ chair,” Parrott writes. “This, then, may be another reason why the early history of the Windsor has been so difficult to ascertain.”
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/forrest-ortho-IMG_1797.jpg)
Forrest Chairs
We don’t know exactly what these early chairs looked like, but we have some clues. Since the 1970s, several early chairs have shown up at auction houses, at the Victoria & Albert Museum and through some sleuthing. These chairs are far simpler than the typical later English Windsor and could be a stylistic link between stick chairs, Windsor chairs and American Windsor chairs.
These early chairs share many characteristics with stick chairs. There are no stretchers – the strut legs are simple turnings. There is no backsplat – a very common feature on English Windsors. And the ornamentation is incredibly restrained compared to later English Windsors. There is a simple scratched groove around the seat and the comb. The front posts under the arm have a little shape. But that’s about it for decoration.
As a maker of stick chairs, I contend these are the prettiest English Windsors I’ve ever seen. I am also struck by how much these early chairs resemble American comb-back Windsor chairs. It’s rare to see an American Windsor chair with a backsplat. And the rake and splay of the legs looks far more American than English.
It makes me wonder – and this is a bit of conjecture – if these early chairs inspired American makers.
John Brown also had some thoughts on this matter. He came to a slightly different conclusion.
“The oft repeated statement that American Windsors derive from the English chair could be in error,” Brown wrote. “For historical reasons, and because of similarities in design, there seems to be a more direct link between the Welsh chair and the American Windsor. Perhaps the English version is the cousin, and the Welsh chair is the father!”
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/forrest-underside-IMG_1801.jpg)
So About that Name, ‘Windsor’
Once you know these chairs may have been called “Forrest” chairs, you have to wonder, why did the name switch to “Windsor?” Was it because the chairs were first made in a place named Windsor?
William Sergeant found evidence of the earliest-known maker of Windsor chairs in a village in Lincolnshire, which he discussed in a 2018 article in Regional Furniture. That maker, Joseph Newton of Fenton, placed an ad for “New-fashioned” Windsor chairs in July 1725.
Newton’s ad also mentions there are makers of these chairs in London. What’s important to know is that Newton’s shop was nowhere near Windsor Castle (it’s about 140 miles away).
Parrott and other historians have found connections between chairmaking activity near Windsor and where those articles went to London. But Parrott admits the link is still tenuous.
One possible theory for changing the name is that the term “Windsor” gave the form a royal flavor and is in line with the French naming furniture styles after kings (i.e. Louis XIV).
Or perhaps the name “Windsor” could have become popular first as an insult to the chairs, as Sparkes wrote in 1973.
“In the end I find myself agreeing with those writers who connect the origin of the name with the manufacture and sale of these chairs to the London dealers at the Windsor Market and along the main road from Windsor to London. For one can imagine the London chair dealers, used as they were to the finer mahogany and walnut products of the London workshops, referring in a derogatory way to the latest batch of beech chairs ‘up from Windsor’.”
Today the term “Windsor” gets applied to broad classes of furniture that have no connection to Windsor Castle. Or pieces that have nothing to do with the House of Windsor, which was founded in 1917, or the town of Windsor. It can be confusing.
At times I fantasize about a world that has switched back to the earlier and more evocative name for this distinctly English chair: Forrest Chair.
The term “Forrest” is far more descriptive of how the chairs were initially were used: as a seat for the outdoors. And, unlike the word “Windsor,” the term “Forrest” describes without a doubt where the chair came from.
And so, in this book – as a bit of a lark – I will refer to “Windsor” chairs as “Forrest” chairs.
I am certain this will catch on everywhere – just like Esperanto.
— Christopher Schwarz
Colonial Williamsburg’s ‘Working Wood in the 18th Century’
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/sheffield-workstool-600x794.jpg)
While this year has brought a lot of suffering and uncertainty, there have been some bright spots. At the top of that list: I was asked for the first time to speak at Colonial Williamsburg’s “Working Wood in the 18th Century” conference, which runs from Jan. 14-17, 2021.
The event is, of course, virtual this year because of the pandemic. But it won’t be like a thrown-together Zoom meeting with your co-workers.
I’ll be on-site in Williamsburg with the other presenters putting together a program that blends live woodworking with pre-filmed segments that you can watch over and over on your devices. The production values will be excellent – this is Williamsburg after all.
The topic of the conference this year is “Back to Work: Functional Furniture for Home and Shop.”
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/Brochure-Mailer-Cover-600x345.png)
I’ll be presenting on two topics: Woodworking with low Roman-style workbenches and staked shop furniture. My plan is to build a Sheffield-style work stool (shown above) during the conference. And do it on a Roman bench.
In addition to the impressive cabinetmakers and joiners from Williamsburg, Bob Van Dyke and Mike Mascelli will be demonstrating the construction of a worktable for needlecraft. There will be lots of roundtable discussions and insights into how Black woodworkers, women and people suffering enslavement contributed to the material culture of the day. Here is the impressive agenda.
Oh, one more thing. I have been asked to give the keynote for the “banquet.” (It’s BYOMeat this year, and clothing is optional.) My presentation is going to be a film I’ve been working on for a couple months about woodworking in an inner-city shop.
Why would you do that? Because it will make you a better designer and builder. While many of us find inspiration in nature, being surrounded by excellent architecture (new and old) can change your woodworking life. It has changed mine.
I hope you can join us. Registration information is here.
— Christopher Schwarz
Chair Encounters: Norway, Part 1
It wasn’t my idea.
Although I’m grateful to spend time with my beautiful wife and three kids – the latter known as The Backseat Mafia™ – cramming everyone into our 14-year-old Volkswagen and driving the 620 miles to our family cabin seemed like Armageddon On Wheels to me. So, I had to be lured in. And boy did Marie know what bait to use: I was promised that we could stop the car whenever along the route to do chair-spotting.
I also wonder where the true Norwegian stick chairs are. We’ve been woodworking for over 1,000 years. We built our country and tradition on wood. I’m sure we’ve got birch sap running in our veins. Thus, there are of course stick chairs being made here, too. Some of them, like the Windsor-inspired Budal Chair, are even considered classics. The problem is that none of them are genuinely Norwegian in either form and origin. So I thought I’d start looking for them, and this trip seemed a good way to kick it off. Here are some of the chairs I encountered:
128 miles from home: Dalen, Telemark
In the traditional region of Telemark lies the small village called Dalen. We stopped here to visit the museum for Norwegian sculptor Anne Grimdalen. Part of the permanent exhibition was a display of her personal belongings. And among them was this staked Brettstuhl. Although the ornamental style of painting is almost quintessentially Norwegian, this is the first time I’ve encountered a chair like this in Norway.
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/IMG_4901-600x800.jpg?crop=1)
This type of chair is more common in Germany and some surrounding countries. I don’t know much about them, so I got in touch with my buddy and fellow Chair Chatter™, Rudy Everts, who knows more:
Rudy: This is an odd one…. The interesting thing about this chair is that it looks like a Brettstuhl but the construction is different. The first thing I noticed was the stretchers, these are very uncommon for a Brettstuhl to have. In fact it might be the first one I have ever seen with stretchers!
When you look closer, you see the seat is thicker than a normal Brettstuhl and it lacks the cross battens that are so typical for these chairs. So the maker constructed it like a normal stick chair. And added stretchers.
The design definitely draws its inspiration from the Germanic Brettstuhl, but with its own twist. The shapes are more straight and the ornamentation more “Nordic.” A Brettstuhl often has round details in the backrest, flower motifs and so on. And there is usually a hole in the back rest to pick up the chair when not in use. Therefore I would say the chair was made there locally and not imported from the Germanic countries and painted afterward.
454 miles from home: Alvdal, Hedmark
Back on the road again. Next stop: The village of Alvdal, which is another very historical place. The oldest pair of skis known to man was found here, dated back to the year 600. We came here to visit a museum. And while my family went to see the main exhibitions, I scoured the building for chairs. The first one I stumbled across was this one. A freak of nature, begging for attention.
I’m really not sure what to think of it. Except that it looks like a giant insect. The low seat and short back could indicate it being a children’s chair. But that’s hard to say. Although this doesn’t look like the typical fireside chair, history is full of low chairs made for different uses
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/IMG_5094-1-600x800.jpg?crop=1)
Each of the four legs are placed at the very edge of the seat. Combined with only a minor splay, this makes the stance of the chair clumsy to me. This combination is however not uncommon. English West Country chairs often look like this. Although it looks more balanced in a full size chair. Here it just looks a a bit wrong to me eyes. Kinda cute, but definitely more weird than wonderful.
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/IMG_5095-600x450.jpg)
So, I went to the café and got myself an overpriced cup of lukewarm motor oil labeled as coffee. Feeling robbed and unwell I looked for a place to sit, when lo and behold, this three-legged charmer made its appearance. Hand planed surfaces, octagonal legs and nicely worn original paint – what’s not to like? The large bevel around the half moon shaped seat also adds elegance. Though I would normally place such a bevel on the underside to make the seat appear lighter and thinner. Then again, it’s exactly these variations and improvisations that make the stick chair form so exciting to me. There’s often an element of surprise. Sometimes it works, sometimes it don’t.
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/IMG_5104-600x800.jpg?crop=1)
The rest of the construction was also unusual. Instead of mortising the legs through the seat, they were mortised into three separate battens that were screwed onto the underside. That at least tells me the stool wasn’t hastily put together by a farmer who needed a seat.
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/IMG_5105-600x800.jpg?crop=1)
Two hours and three ice creams later we all cramped up in the car again and went to find a place to put up our tents. We found a pretty decent spot and called it an early night.
![](https://blog.lostartpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/IMG_5036-1-600x807.jpg)
The next morning we rose early. After coffee, bread and brown cheese we hit the road again. I encountered even more vernacular chairs during the following days and miles on the road. Some of them were even not weird at all, just plain beautiful, with some interesting stories to them also.
I’ll share them with you in part two. For all of these and future chair encounters, I’ve set up an Instagram account for you to follow. As always, please share your thoughts and comments on these chairs or chairs you’ve encountered yourself!