Lost Art Press

The Making of the ‘Virtuoso’ DVD

Posted on September 3, 2015 by Lost Art Press

Chris asked me to write a couple blog posts to give you a little insight into what went in to compiling the DVD companion to Don Williams’s amazing book “Virtuoso.” In addition to that I’ve been given the unpleasant task of introducing myself and giving a little background while trying not to sound like a salesman with my resume.

I was a freelance recording engineer here in Nashville who opted for early retirement. I had a decent career for 12 years and got to work with a lot of great known and unknown artists and musicians. The music industry has changed drastically in recent years. My old job as recording engineer/producer is one that is especially being phased out so I hung up my microphones and (helped) produce a kid instead. I’m mostly a stay-at-home dad now and work part time at an old-school hardware store.

In the past few years I’ve done some audio work for Lost Art Press. I mastered “The Joiner and the Cabinet Maker” and did audio restoration on “The Naked Woodworker” DVD. I come from the audio world, and I was taken aback when Chris asked me to edit a DVD about the Studley tool cabinet. I thought that it would be a chance of a lifetime, and I also thought that someone else should do it. I warned Chris of my lack of experience, but he was adamant that a woodworker should edit this DVD. I like a challenge and couldn’t pass on the opportunity.

Once I started work I quickly figured out why Chris wanted a woodworker first and foremost. I was given more than eight hours of interviews and snippets, an hour of video of them unloading the cabinet and more than 60 gigabytes of pictures (an insane amount!). The DVD needed to be about an hour long. I had at least four hours of mesmerizing content that many woodworkers would love to see. Don’s passion and knowledge about Studley’s work is galvanizing. Narayan’s photographs show more intricacies and subtleties than I ever imagined. To put it mildly, given the raw materials I was handed, the blame would lie squarely on my shoulders if the end product was not entertaining and at least somewhat inspiring.

The first thing I did was watch all of the footage while taking notes on everything that was said, topics covered, tools discussed, even outtake conversations between Don, Narayan and Chris (I had hoped to decipher the location of the collection given this insider information… I still have no clue). After that I watched all of the footage again and began to pull my favorite bits, organizing them by subject. The hard part was there was no outline or script for what the finished video should be. Soon I realized that Don had been kind enough to write an entire book on the subject, and I decided to sort the clips into chapters that corresponded with the book. This “chapter concept” might seem obvious now but at the time it was revolutionary to me and the organization of the video quickly fell into place.

In the recording studio I used to pride myself for being able to assemble a vocal track or guitar solo encompassing all of the best parts of what the artist did into one “super recording” (we called them a “comp” or “composite track”). Editing this video used the same brain synapses. First, go over the multiple times someone discusses a particular subject. Whittle it down into one clip that simply states the point they were trying to make. Make sure there are no “umms” or stutters. On top of that, put mesmerizing pictures focusing on what they are talking about. The whole time keep a ukulele around to plunk out a melody or two that comes to your head… really.

Boom… now you too can edit a DVD about Studley’s tool cabinet and workbench.

In actuality it was a little more complicated than that. After the initial edit of each chapter I would come back the next night and re-edit and smooth things out a bit. Then I would add in the pictures and b-roll footage, followed by another smoothing edit, followed by the music, which I’ll discuss in another post.

As with any editing project be it video, music or a furniture design it’s nearly impossible to fit all of your favorite parts in because they just don’t work with the flow or the overall narrative. A few times I found myself watching a clip over and over again trying to figure out how I could make it work. As a woodworker I would be enthralled by a clip but as an editor I knew technically it’d flow better without it. My wife would remind me that if I was getting excited about something as a woodworker chances are that the Lost Art Press faithful would as well. Those side-notes are my favorite parts of the video. I say this to illustrate the fact that first and foremost (and with the encouragement of my wife) I tried to make a video that I’d want to watch.

I will always be a little bit heartbroken that I didn’t make the pilgrimage to Cedar Rapids, Iowa, for the exhibit of the cabinet and workbench. I let day-to-day life get in the way of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’m so glad that Chris offered me another once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be a part of the telling of an amazing story.

— Ben Strano

Editor’s note: We will begin taking pre-publication orders for this DVD quite soon. And we will be offering free domestic shipping during the introductory period.

ATC Interview, Part III

Posted on September 2, 2015August 31, 2015 by

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.

— Brian Clites, your forum moderator and author of thewoodprof.com.
brian@lostartpress.com

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 Medieval Mudejar Craftsmen of Teruel Cathedral

Posted on September 2, 2015September 2, 2015 by saucyindexer

Groundbreaking for Teruel Cathedral in Aragon, Spain, was in 1171 with consecration around 400 years later. Much of the construction and artwork was done by mudejar craftsmen. The nave has a wonderful coffered ceiling decorated with carvings and painted in saturated colors of red, blue, yellow, orange, green and black.

One of the painted horizontal supports features the woodworkers of the cathedral:

Here is a closer look at this lively group:

The carpenter in the middle row on the left is carving one of the eagles that decorate the ends of many of the beams.

The very limber toastmaster is smack in the middle and his buddy, to the right, is motioning for a round. Note the snappy striped outfits of the carpenters. The artists that painted the carpenters did not leave themselves out. They are shown, in more sober dress, in another section and in this panel are either being offered more paint or a refreshing drink.

Many cathedrals and other buildings, great and small, have depictions of the community of craftsmen that worked to construct those buildings. They can be seen in stone carvings, painted panels, stained glass windows and misericords, and they are mostly anonymous. I like to think that somewhere in each carving or painting a small set of initials or a symbol has been left by the artisan.

Many more images and the history of the cathedral can be found at the Spanish-language site: www.aragonmudejar.com.

Also, those red, yellow and blue striped shop aprons are a trend waiting to happen.

— Suzanne Ellison

Woodworking Classes: Don’t Forget to Remember

Posted on September 1, 2015 by Lost Art Press

These last couple weeks I have been participating in a (personally) exciting experiment with furniture maker David Savage. Last week I taught a class at his school on making a traveling tool chest very similar to the one on the cover of the August 2015 issue of Popular Woodworking Magazine.

David was a student in my class. He built the chest. And he did it the way I told the students to do it (100 percent traditionally). Now if you know anything about David Savage, that’s a ridiculous thing. He’s forgotten more about furniture making than I know.

And yet the class was enjoyable for him because it reminded him of techniques he has set aside over the years – using hot hide glue to assemble carcases, using traditional wedge-shaped nails and milk paint (to name a few).

This week, David and his right-hand man, Daren Millman, are teaching us all about veneering using traditional methods (hide glue) and modern ones (PVA glue and a veneer press). And even though I’m comfortable with both methods, I’m taking the course and having a blast.

David and Daren are both fantastic teachers with insights into veneering that have made this week the highlight of 2015 for me. Even though I’m only two days into the class I feel like my mind has been opened with a crowbar.

Note to self: Take more woodworking classes with excellent instructors. It’s worth the money and the time.

— Christopher Schwarz

Workbenches of Cotehele

Posted on August 31, 2015August 31, 2015 by Lost Art Press

On my day off from teaching at David Savage’s shop, David and his wife, Carol, insisted on taking me over the border to Cornwall to see Cotehele, a fantastic family home on the Tamar River that has been remarkably unchanged for more than 400 years.

The house had some remarkable original furniture, including six collapsible tables that they suspect were made on-site. But I have only 15 minutes to write this so we’re going to look at the workbenches in the house’s workshops.

Cotehele House was built about 1300 and rebuilt by three generations of the Edgcumbe family between 1485 and 1560. The house is mostly Tudor, and is largely untouched since its last remodeling in the 1650s.

The workshops on display are recreations, as is typical in historic properties. So don’t make too much out of where the benches are sitting or what’s on them. In the saddler’s shop they had two workbenches. One was clearly a woodworker’s bench that looked very similar to Peter Nicholson’s drawing of one circa 1800.

The bench has had a hard life. One interesting aspect of the bench is that when you stand before it, you cannot easily see the rear apron, just like in Nicholson’s “Mechanic’s Companion.” But the apron is there.

But what isn’t there are the “bearers” under the top that Nicholson discusses. Still, the bench seemed sturdy enough to still work on. Some people might think it a bit low – my guess is that it’s 27” or 28” high. The benchtop was about 10’ long.

In the wheelwright’s shop they had a second Nicholson-pattern bench on display, this one is interesting because of the storage lockers built into either end. You access the lockers from doors at the ends. What’s interesting about this particular bench was the lack of holes for anything – pegs, holdfasts etc.

This bench was a bit taller than the one shown in the saddler’s shop. But it was also about 10’ long.

There was lots more to see in the house, but that will have to wait for another day. I’ve got a tool chest to finish.

— Christopher Schwarz