My daughter Katy has an entrepreneurial spirit that is similar to when I started selling “bark jewelry” to neighborhood kids at age 10. Unlike me, Katy is committed to making something useful.
During the last few months, Katy and I have been making soft wax, packaging it in 4 oz. tins and selling it in the Lost Art Press storefront. We sold out of her first batch and have been busily making more this month so we can offer it online.
What is soft wax? It’s a traditional beeswax that is mixed with a significant quantity of solvents to create a wax that is soft and dissolves easily into raw wood. It is best used on the insides of drawers or casework. It imparts a softness and a smell that is pleasing. It also helps lubricate drawers and even wooden vise screws in the workshop.
How do you use it? Easy. Wipe the wax on with a clean cloth. The wax will absorb quickly into raw wood. After five minutes, buff the area with a clean cloth. You are done.
The beeswax provides a thin layer of protection against stains and spills. The solvents (particularly the Georgia turpentine we use) imparts a complex and earthy smell to the work.
All the soft wax is made here in my shop in Fort Mitchell with Katy in control. We melt the cosmetic-grade beeswax in a double boiler so it never reaches more than 140° (F). Then she adds the solvents and dispenses the wax into the metal containers using a turkey baster.
After the wax cools, Katy cleans the containers, adds the lid and affixes the label, which she designed herself.
Each tin is $12 plus domestic shipping.
While we hope you will try the soft wax, the bigger hope is that you will see its value and make it for yourself. That’s why we provide the recipe we use here. It easy to make.
If you are interested in trying soft wax before you make some yourself, Katy’s etsy store can be accessed here. She’s made about 40 tins in the last couple weeks. If we sell out, she’ll make more.
Thanks in advance for your business and your patience as Katy launches her first business.
Jim McConnell of the Daily Skep blog and I traded blog entries recently in the Cincinnati Time Store Tradition. I think I got the better part of the bargain with Jim’s thoughtful essay here.
In the last quarter of the 13th century Etienne Boileau compiled “Livres des Métiers” which documented the codes and traditions of the more important Parisian crafts. About 500 years later an English researcher reviewed Boileau’s work and found of the 100 crafts, five were headed by women and in most of the crafts women were employed. Women worked the same hours as men, they could be apprentices and theequivalent of a journeyman. He noted “writing-table makers” could be male or female.
Further work on “Livres des Métiers” was done by Janice Archer for her 1995 PhD thesis. Archer created multiple data bases, deciphered some of the obscure terms and shed new light on the extent and kinds of work done by women. One-third of the women worked in the more traditional fields of food and clothing production and two-thirds worked in almost every other job that men did.
From the extensive number of occupations Archer listed here are the woodworking-related catagories in which women worked: wooden measures for grain, barrel makers, bed frames, tables, benches, armoires, doors, windows, carts, roofs, “everything else made of wooden boards,” strong boxes for travel, provider of wood for carpentry, builders of scaffolds, thatched roofs and wooden clogs to protect shoes from mud. Except for the possible exception of the clogs, sounds like what women in the 21st century are making, doesn’t it?
One point that is brought up in most of the research is the contrast in the availability of work for a woman inside and outside the home. For the wife, daughters and any other related or unrelated women it would be easier and safer to learn and perform the craft of the master in the home workshop. Even if a woman was not performing the same full work as that of an apprentice or journeyman (because of incomplete training or other household responsibilities) she could still contribute to the production of the shop via smaller jobs such as gluing, decorative work, painting or polishing. For a master involved in carpentry for a building site the female members of the household would generally not work at the site. As far as can be determined from studied records most female laborers on building sites tended to be related to unskilled male laborers, poor single women and widows and slaves.
Sometimes the master’s wife was prohibited to go outside the home to accomplish a task necessary for the workshop to function. In the mid-1550s the Worshipful Company of Carpenters decreed “…that no women shall come to the waters to by (buy) tymber bourde…” Apparently some wives thought it better to just get the wood needed for their business for on March 10, 1547, several master carpenters were called to the guildhall and told to “…warne ther wyffes that they schuld not by no stuffe at the waters syd upone payne of a fyne.”
Guild records about warnings and fines, complaints brought by widows and the increasing restrictions guilds placed on women have helped researchers determine the kind of work women did and their contributions to the various crafts.
Medieval European guilds and their codes and statutes were many and complex. Each city had its own guilds and through time related guilds might merge and later separate. Some guilds could have sub-guilds. Competition might result in highly specialized guilds: in one town a baker’s guild only handled dough that was already kneaded by the customer, the other baker’s guild only handled unkneaded dough! A city’s guilds could gain enough economic power to challenge the local government.
When the societal and religious views of a woman’s expected role (get married as early as possible, when widowed get married again as soon as possible) are combined with a guild’s control over trade, a woman’s economic status could very quickly be decimated. And that is what began to happen in the 15th century.
At the beginning of the 15th century Christine de Pisan wrote “The Treasure of the City of Ladies.” She had been married at 15 and widowed at age 25. For years she fought in the courts to recover her late husband’s land and was hampered by not knowing the full extent of her husband’s finances. In the “Treasure” she gave advice to women in all social classes about getting an education, learning the husband’s business and finances and protecting themselves if they became a widow. Becoming a widow, even to a successful craftsman, was a precarious situation. Earliest guild statutes did not place many restrictions on the widow of a master craftsman and widows could generally continue to run the husband’s business. One exception was if she remarried a master in a different craft she could not continue in the first husband’s business.
By the middle of the 15th century nearly every craft began to enact limitations on a widow’s ability to run her husband’s workshop. The restrictions began by limiting how long after her husband’s death a widow could run the business. A example of the escalating restrictions can be seen in German cities in the 15th and 16th centuries: the widow could operate the workshop for one to two years, the next limitation was no new apprentices or journeyman and operations for just a few months, next was to allow the shop to only finish any work in progress at the time of the husband’s death. An exception might be made if there was a son old enough to take over the business.
A guild might allow the widow to be a “placeholder” until a son reached his majority. The ability for a daughter to inherit a business was eliminated. The worst restrictions reached into the workshop and regulated against wives of masters participating in the business. Of course, there were exceptions because each city and guild was different. But the common thread in the transition from the Medieval era to Early Modern was to limit a woman’s economic work and try to confine her to marriage, children and household.
An exception to the strictures placed on widows is the case of Kenau Simonsdochter Hasselar (1526-1588) a wood merchant of Haarlem.
She was widowed in 1562 but continued in business. One of her exploits is the highly romanticized story of her defense of the city during the 1573 Spanish. The image to the left is presumed to be her, but you might also find her in paintings wielding some fearful weapons. Her business included owning a ship that made about five trips per year transporting wood to Norway. When her ship’s captain was taken hostage in 1588 she went to Norway to get her ship and disappeared, presumably the victim of pirates.
A widow could bring a complaint to continue operating the family business and many did. Extensions to the time limit might be made or the answer from the guild could be crushing. Merry E. Wiesner, an intrepid researcher in women’s working lives, uncovered a stonemason guild’s response to a widow in Frankfurt in 1642. The widow wanted to continue to work as her husband had purchased a large amount of stone prior to his death. The guild refused her request and gave six reasons for the refusal: 1. other widows would want the same rights; 2. her husband had been the most successful stonemason in the town and others felt bitter that he had taken business from them; 3. her husband had vigorously opposed widows working, why go against his wishes; 4. she could not oversee the shop well enough and work might not be done properly which could bring shame to her and the whole guild; 5. she could not control the journeyman who might marry, have children and later abandon their families and with no means of support they would be a drain on the public treasury; 6. because she couldn’t control the journeymen they would want to work in her shop and not for other masters.
The guild’s response (or six nails in the widow’s coffin) reveals their effort to eliminate competition, settle old scores, humiliate the widow and belittle her ability to run the business. If the widow had been allowed to continue the business I would think she would have encountered a concerted effort by others in the guild to block and undermine her workshop.
What was behind the restrictions on women in the craft guilds? Why stop wives, daughters, single women and widows from working? To quote Merry Wiesner, restricting women’s work was linked to “every major economic change going on: decline of craft guilds and rise of journeyman’s guilds, shift in trade patterns, the general inflation, decline of old manufacturing centers and growth of new ones, formalization of training requirements, rise of capitalism.”
If they were prohibited from working in the family shop how did women make money for their families and themselves? Well before restrictions came into play women were already paid much less than men and supplemented their incomes by making small items for sale. Pins, brooms, brushes, spoons and bowls could be made at home and sold from the home. Guilds did not try to regulate these activities. For the single woman and the widow with no families on which to rely the restrictions on their work had the greatest impact. They were left to find work in the lowest paid jobs with their opportunities becoming more limited as they aged.
A list of the many upheavals in the 15th through 18th century includes outbreaks of the plague, famine, catastrophic weather, war, more war and the crushing limits on a woman’s ability to work in a craft or outside the home. In his book “London-The Biography” Peter Ackroyd wrote, “It will come as little surprise that the desire to control women occurred at times of panic and low financial confidence.”
The last part of this series will cover a bit of the 19th century and the first half of the 20th century.
I am sorry to say that other than the two illustrations from the Balthasar Behem Codex mentioned in ‘Women in The Workshop’ I found no illustrations of Medieval or Early Modern women involved in woodworking. The closest thing was a woman holding an axe near a tree…wearing some interesting footwear…those clogs.
The “wooden clogs to protect shoes from mud” mentioned in “Livres des Métiers“ explained what the woman in orange is wearing with her shoes. I took a short detour from all this women in the workshops research (I needed a break!) to take a look at those clogs and found a pair in a Jan van Eyck painting. Very sensible and they also explain the Dr. Scholl’s phenomena several centuries later.
The gallery has a selection of women in other crafts and a listing of the resources I used for “Women in the Workshop” and this post.
Researcher Suzanne Ellison turned up this image of the tombstone of menuisier Joseph Cordes of Carcassonne (1832-1884). Check out the detail in the shop, including the glue pot, the threads on the clamp and even the holdfast.
Image by Christophe Marty. Sculpture by Jean Guilhem. The inscription reads: FAMILLE JOSEPH CORDES A DIEU SEUL VERTU HONNEUR SAGESS ET PROBITÉ.
When a design idea gets stuck in my head, I need to build it so it doesn’t interfere with other (sometimes better) ideas knocking around in my skull.
This is one such crazy idea.
It came to me one morning this week as I was thinking about the Crisscross mechanism on my leg vise. I love how the Crisscross applies forces in predictable but still surprising ways. In fact, I still get letters about this mechanism, which I featured in my 2007 book on workbenches, from people who claim it’s a hoax and doesn’t work.
This table looks unstable to my eye. Like it would tip over if you merely pressed on a corner of the tabletop. But if you think about it (and then try it) it’s remarkably stable. There’s a foot below every corner, which is what you need to prevent it from tipping over.
Aesthetically, I have work to do. This isn’t bad for a rough draft, but the whole thing is chunkier than it needs to be.
What I like about it is how it changes constantly as you move around it. The legs can look like Xs. The top can look like it’s cantilevered over nothing. Two of the legs can look dead vertical.
Oh, and it’s simple to make. This one took less than a day and was made from maple scraps leftover from the worktable in “The Anarchist’s Design Book.”
Because the forces exerted by the tenons mortised into the top, I don’t think I’d use this as the undercarriage of a chair. The seat might split. But for an occasional table? I think it has potential.
FYI, The top is 3” x 14-1/2” x 14-1/2”. The legs are 1-5/8” x 1-5/8” x 22”. The legs are at a 60° angle to the underside of the top and taper to an inch square at the floor.
When I dry-assembled the table I sent a snapshot to a friend.
“Look what I made this morning.”
His response: “By accident?”
Designing furniture is not a profession for the thin-skinned.