The latest issue of Popular Woodworking Magazine features a profile I wrote on Marco Terenzi, a young Michigan woodworker and toolmaker who specializes in making small – really small – stuff.
I got to spend a day with Marco in his shop, which he has had since he was 9, and get a close look at his work. Marco happens to be an incredibly quotable person, so the interview was fun, and learning how he got into this line of work was quite a tale (think: soldering iron and pen turning).
The article is in the February 2016 issue, which you can purchase here. Or spend a few extra dollars and get a year’s subscription to the magazine here.
Below are some extra photos from my visit with Marco that I didn’t have room for in the article.
When you think of people who have poked the furniture manufacturing establishment, Enzo Mari should be near the top of the list. His 1974 “autoprogettazione?” exhibit, plans and book proposed that ordinary people could make their own furniture using dimensional lumber, a crosscut saw and a hammer.
No ripping. No angle cuts other than 90°. No joinery other than nails.
Mari, a noted furniture designer, offered his plans for tables, chairs, beds and shelves free to anyone who asked for them. They were later compiled into a book, “autoprogettazione?” (Edizioni Corraini, 2002), you can now buy.
A couple friends who are familiar with Mari have asked if “The Anarchist’s Design Book” was inspired by Mari’s important book. The answer is: Not really. “autoprogettazione?” is, by Mari’s admission, almost entirely about the process and not the result.
When the book was released, lots of people built the designs to save money, to “get back to nature” or finish out a cottage in a rustic style. Mari says that those people missed his point.
“Obviously (my) proposal was only intended as a practical critical exercise,” Mari writes. “Obviously objects have to be produced using machinery and the most advanced technology and only in this way is it possible to have items that are good quality and economical.”
So what was his point? Mari was trying to engage the everyday person in an exercise that would show them how things are designed and “to teach anyone to look at present production with a critical eye.”
After completing “The Anarchist’s Design Book,” I took a fresh look at “autoprogettazione?” And I also started reading a few novels like drinking from a firehose. (I try to avoid others’ writing while I’m writing for a variety of complex and stupid reasons.)
Some of Mari’s designs are actually quite successful, particularly the tables, shelves and armoire. I’m not wild about the chairs or beds, however. They do not shake off their pallet DNA enough to inspire me to pick up the tools.
And in the end, I think the act and the result are of equal importance, not only for myself but for the future of our material culture.
Chris and John at Lost Art Press have shown the grace to lend me spot here on the blog, so allow me to introduce myself:
My name is Henrik Lützen, and I’m a MA-student in English Studies at the University of Copenhagen, Denmark. This spring I’m writing my thesis on the current craft revival, and why more people are drawn to hand tool woodworking especially. Oh, and I’m a knuckle-dragging hand tool neanderthal myself.
For this project I have a working thesis that the craft movement (among other things) is a response to three issues with contemporary society, which I have labeled:
Surface: That we need the perfect imperfection of a handmade surface to better relate to them, and that we appreciate seeing signs of both the item’s production and its maker in the surface (think of Krenov, Pye, Yanagi)
Community: That the crafts allows us to engage in three dialogues: With the past (through learning the traditional ways), with the present (online communities, courses, tool meets etc.) and with the future (through making heirlooms and through preserving tradition).
Practice: That the uncertainty of outcome and investment of effort inherent to hand tool woodworking shapes our experience of the world in a number of ways:
– We can transform a material = That is, we can influence the world.
– Wood or other materials have their own limitations and possibilities = That is, we live not in (digital) fantasy, but in material reality.
– Through persistence, effort and close observation, we may improve our skills = That is, our effort enhances our value to the world and matters to the world.
Some of you will possibly/probably hear echoes of Matthew Crawford or a certain anarchist book in this.
My point is that hand tool working is a deliberate alternative to the mainstream, and that it gives more sustainable and creatively fulfilling lives.
The real elephant in the room is, does the hand tool woodworking community have lessons for society as a whole? How do we use natural and human resources and fulfill our aspirations to be creative? This is something I hope to be able to explore further.
Now, such a thesis doesn’t exist in a vacuum: While I could just sample forums, this is the LAP blog: Home to the top tier hand tool aficionados, the anarchistic and the outspoken. So I need your help: I want to hear your own reasons for working with hand tools – in your own words.
Topics could include:
– What drew you to hand tool woodworking – and why do you do it?
– Do you consider sustainability with your work? Making furniture that lasts, reclaiming timber, using lasting, safe finishes?
– What do you feel you learn about yourself through craftsmanship?
– Have you considered doing this as a job – or a part-time job? And for those of you who have already, what led you to this path less trodden?
– Have you thought about the future of craft – or the value of craftsmanship to the world?
But these are only suggestions, if you have other ideas, write them down. Post them in the comment field or email them to me directly at this address henrik1224@gmail.com.
This is valuable stuff, and I will treat it as such:
You won’t be reduced to quantitative numbers (NO: X respondents expressed Y) – but I will anonymize your responses.
This won’t be published, but anyone can read an online copy of the (100+ pages) thesis when it is complete.
So share your thoughts and opinions with me. In return, I promise to give my very best effort.
After getting the year’s final furniture job on the truck last week, I turned my attention to the completing the final project for “The Anarchist’s Design Book,” a coffin-turned bookshelf unit.
I’d finished the coffin in 2014, but had always meant to add shelves for my vinyl records. The coffin has been languishing in the basement and creeping out my children’s friends. (“Uh, what does your dad do for a living?”)
The shelves are spaced about 15” apart to allow plenty of room for 12” albums. It was difficult to space the shelves precisely because the sides of the coffin are tapered. Not only that, the pine has warped a bit. So getting a precise fit was a fun exercise with a bevel gauge and a block plane.
The shelves are tacked in place through the coffin sides with 4d headed nails to make them easy to remove. Then I also tacked in angled cleats above and below each shelf for some additional Soviet-style over-building.
I painted the outside and then asked my daughter Katy to paint a few images from some of our favorite records. She chose some awesome artwork from Queens of the Stone Age. She sketched the images on the bottom panel and then painted them Monday night.
The coffin hangs on a maple French cleat. Each cleat is 1” x 3” x 17”. The cleat on the cabinet is bolted through the case with 5/16” x 2” carriage bolts, large fender washers and nuts. The cleat on the wall is attached to two studs with 3/8” x 3” lag screws. I can climb this thing like a ladder, so I’m certain it will hold my records.
This morning I took the final photo (above) for the final page of “The Anarchist’s Design Book” and thought about having a Christmas morning beer. Then I thought better of it.
Briony (the illustrator) and I are still finishing up the details on a handful of illustrations, and Megan is doing one last final edit of the text. But the end is in sight.
Wooden Boat magazine’s latest issue reviews “By Hound & Eye” by Jim Tolpin and George Walker and makes the case that the lessons in the book are ideal for boat builders trying to fit out the interiors of their crafts.
“How many well-built hulls have you seen that are spoiled by bad details – or by a lack of details?” writes Joe Youcha in the January/February 2016 (#248) issue. “The interior joinery of an otherwise nice cruising boat might be awkward and ugly, or the breastwork and quarter knees of a well-built skiff might seem clunky and ill-proportioned. How do you get these details right?”
Youcha makes the case that the “By Hound & Eye” workbook is a great place for builders to start.
“I love the workbook format where you get to try out the skills presented in the book and compare your work to the authors’ examples,” he writes. “You learn the foundational relationships inherent in ‘intuitive’ design – unified proportions, curves, and shapes that look good to the eye.”
Congratulations to George and Jim for such a nice write-up in such a prestigious magazine. They have worked hard to develop their method of training woodworkers to open their “design eye,” and now they might reach a few boat builders, too.
