Lost Art Press

The Benefits of Mandatory Inactivity

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Editor’s note: The following is a special update from Don Williams on his forthcoming To Make as Perfectly as Possible: Roubo on Furniture Making. For those of you unfamiliar with Don, he is the mastermind behind our editions of Roubo on marquetry, Roubo on furniture making (forthcoming), Virtuoso: The Tool Cabinet and Workbench of Henry O. Studley, and the Virtuoso DVD (forthcoming). Don is also a former conservator for the Smithsonian Institute. You can read more of his writings on donsbarn.com.

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Thanks to my recent bone-crunching encounter with a gravel-laden wheelbarrow, I am essentially recliner-bound for the next month.  Starting this week I get to putter in my studio, provided I sit in my rolling office chair or use a grandma-style walker. But mostly for the past fortnight and the next four weeks, I must sit and undertake isometric exercises.

Fortunately, I am well stocked with productive tasks. The main “benefit” to all this is that I can devote my undivided attention to To Make As Perfectly As Possible: Roubo on Furniture Making. A tote bag from Chris, overflowing with printouts for the book, has been sitting next to my desk for many moons, patiently awaiting my return from other endeavors. Chris’s edits are finished, and now I am diligently working through them to either approve or disapprove his revisions. (Yes, I do get to tell him when and where he is wrong, but his comments are usually correct.) I will also add my final set of revisions before releasing the manuscript to the ministrations of copy editing and layout.

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It is fun work, actually, as I have not looked through the manuscript carefully since the  H.O. Studley projects went supernova last summer. Looking at Roubo on Furniture Making with fresh eyes has been very enjoyable. Far from being displeased with the text, I continue to marvel at this trove of wisdom from an age long past.

I am also enjoying reviewing the essays that we have curated to accompany Roubo’s original text. In his contribution, Chris reflects on the Roubo bench illustrated in Plate 11. Mike Mascelli’s essay examines historic upholstery methods.

Philippe Lafargue and Michele Pagan, two of my colleagues for the book, also add tremendous insight. Philippe’s essay is about his training as a classical chair maker at the École Boulle. Michele’s piece sheds light onto 18th century bed linens.

The book is chock full of good stuff. Another of my favorite contributions is Jonathan Thornton’s narrative about how he reproduced the wave moulding machine that even Roubo admitted he had never seen.

In addition to these remarkable essays are a dozen or so expositions I’ve authored on the tools and techniques that Roubo describes in the text. After I finish this final round of edits, it should only be another few weeks until I am released from the recliner gulag.

– Donald C. Williams.

English Arts & Crafts at the Cheltenham Art Gallery and Museum

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We are less than five minutes into the tour when David Savage stopped to scold the museum docent.

“You really are doing a poor job of displaying this,” Savage said, pointing to a Morris textile hanging in a shadowy corner. “Really, you can barely see it.”

Savage has a reputation for being a straight talker, both to his students and readers of his excellent blog. And you know what? I had to completely agree with him. The gorgeous and subtle textile looked like a blanket hung off to the side to block a draft.

So began a morning at the Cheltenham Art Gallery and Museum with Savage and a handful of his students. Savage brought them there to view the museum’s excellent Arts & Crafts Movement Galley and discuss the history of the relationship between makers and customers.

I got to tag along, and I’m glad I did. The Cheltenham has a small but quite astonishing collection of pieces I never dreamed I’d see all in two rooms.

A Sidney Barnsley Hayrake table? Check. Frederick Rawlence coffer? Yup. Ernest Gimson 1885 ladderback armchair. Check. And this checklist could go on for several more paragraphs.

Savage lectured at bit in front of several of the pieces, pointing out design or construction details for the students. At the Gimson armchair, Savage discussed the relationship of the width of the slats and the negative space between each as they progressed up the back.

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Then he paused for a minute.

“That chair,” he said, “more than anything, made me a furniture maker.”

It’s a surprising statement on its face. Savage’s work is so incredibly forward-looking and technical. Gimson and his Cotswold companions were trying to harness a bit of the past with their work.

But after a bit of reflection, the relationship between the two men seems clear. They were both independent craftsmen who were incredibly concerned with proportion, good lines, proper construction and beauty.

Below are some of the pieces from the exhibit. If you are every near Cheltenham, the museum is well worth a visit.

— Christopher Schwarz

Schwarzlandia!

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Before taking off for a second scoop of England this summer Marsha, I mean Chris, gave me a key to the blog. Silly rabbit.

In the last couple of weeks I’ve found some interesting woodworking references and will post a few while Chris is away. I will try to refrain from cat pictures, but can tell you there will be monkeys.

To start things off let’s discuss Chris’ obsession with his beloved (his word) $12 jack plane. Longtime LAP-landers are familiar with this infatuation and it is highly likely that many of you have your own little tool crushes. Did you know his nickname for the plane is Lola?

A while back I put together a little hommage for Chris and Lola. I call it “Schwarzlandia”:

Late one evening a large object fell through the mists shrouding the teeny-tiny Duchy of Schwarzlandia. Once the dust had settled and the sneezing had stopped the bravest of the brave Schwarzlandians rushed out to investigate.

Schwarzlandia!

– Suzanne Ellison

 

 

Kaare Klint Safari Chairs: Early & Later

Posted on by Lost Art Press

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I’m interested in how furniture (and tool) designs change. Typically the trajectory is toward entropy or dissolution. But sometimes it goes the other way (see Lie-Nielsen and Veritas handplanes.)

safari_klint1_detailThis week I have been deep into reading the Kaare Klint monograph by Gorm Harkaer. It is a staggering work in both scale and scope. Harkaer covers everything from Klint’s paintings to his sculpture, logo designs and (of course) furniture. It’s the second-most expensive book I own, but I don’t regret a penny.

Today I was examining some of the photos of Klint’s Safari chair, which was born from the Roorkee chair of the campaign-furniture era. The above photo is one of the earliest chairs from 1933.

The legs are teak. And note the folded over and stitched leather arms. Oh and I couldn’t resist noting that the screws are clocked.

Later chairs were mahogany or “smoked” ash, according to Harkaer. “Smoking” involves coloring the ash with ammonia steam.

The chair below is a 1953 version in smoked ash with a canvas seat. Note we now have the familiar non-stitched arms. I much prefer the stitched arms. They sag a lot less over time.

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Other interesting details from the monograph:

  • The seat coverings were available in leather, undyed linen drill or canvas in brown blue or olive.
  • After Klint’s death, his son designed a footstool to go with the chair.
  • More than 150,000 official Safari chairs have been made since 1933.

— Christopher Schwarz

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Forward into the Fantastic Nothing

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This morning I clipped my nose hairs (it sure beats braiding them) as I prepared for 16 days of teaching (and taking) a class in England at David Savage’s Rowden workshop. Leaving on long trips is always difficult, and not just because of the excessive follicle primping.

Despite the great privilege of instructing, it is hard to leave behind my family, put my personal work on hold and be disconnected from my library.

So on Nov. 13, I am going to become a hermit.

If you look to the right of this blog entry you will see that I have removed the calendar. And that’s because there isn’t one anymore. I have cancelled everything for 2016 and beyond. After I return home from the French Oak Roubo Project, I’ll be home indefinitely.

Full-hermit mode will help me finish my manifesto (aka “Furniture of Necessity”), reduce the backlog of books clogging the Lost Art Press pipeline and work on restoring our new headquarters building. Plus, I will take a crack at building some of the dozen new furniture designs that are stuffed into my sketchbook.

The chair above is one of those designs. And I almost didn’t want to show it because it raises a lot of questions I can’t answer because I’m getting on a plane. No saddling? Will those legs work? Undercarriage? No relief on the rear curve of the seat? Solid ash? And more? Yeah, I have good answers for all those, but it’s gonna take a book to understand where the heck I am going.

Thanks to everyone who has taken a class with me during the last 10 years. It really has been a blast, I’ve made some lifelong friends and I’ve learned as much as I have taught.

Next time you see me I should have nose-hair dreadlocks. Just got to get some advice from Tom Fidgen first.

— Christopher Schwarz