Every woodworking class degrades into the same intense discussion: Does the hegemony of mass advertising result in a degradation of the circle of the manual arts?
Nah, I’m just pulling your chain. It’s mostly fart jokes and talks about anatomy.
This week was special. Not only did we get some humorous attempts to light our flatulence, we also experienced Hans Muller’s special skill.
Hans, a student in the class and the shop tech at Rosewood Studios, is one-quarter Austrian and the rest of his blood is “German.” And so he channeled his ancestors to teach us a little woodworking.
One of the most important things I’ve ever heard about woodworking was said to my by John Economaki, the founder of Bridge City Tools. When he said it, I couldn’t write it down – we were in a car, I think. But I can pretty well paraphrase it.
When I teach a class on design I ask the students this question: Would you rather build a project that is beautifully proportioned with a few gappy joints, or a technically flawless piece with a design that is just OK?
The students unanimously answer: technically flawless.
When you look at traditional furniture, you can see that this was not the general attitude among pre-industrial makers. Even in spectacular Shaker pieces and world-class objects I’ve examined at Winterthur, the emphasis is more on overall form than on technical brilliance.
Baselines are overcut. The backs and bottoms of drawers look like they came from an Arkansas outhouse. There is tear-out. There are distinct toolmarks – if you know where to look.
But when you back away from your inspection of the joinery, you can see the brilliance of the maker.
When I teach classes on woodworking, I fully realize that I am part of this problem. During my week here at Rosewood Studio we have all been focused on the joinery. Perhaps too much. What is more amazing than the tight joints, however, are the nine perfectly proportioned tool chests that are coming into the world.
This chest isn’t my design – it’s the design of hundreds of woodworkers through three hundred years of work. I only hope that the students can see this when they pull their chest out of their car at home.
One of the earliest photographs I’ve ever seen of a carpenter at work is held by the Metropolitan Museum of Art and attributed to William Henry Fox Talbot, a British inventor and early photographer.
Jeff Burks, who pointed me to the image, suspects it might be the earliest photograph of a carpenter/joiner. If you know of an earlier one, send us a note.
Of note in the photograph:
1. These early “calotypes” were staged because the exposure time could be extremely long (by modern standards). Hence the blurry face of the carpenter. The apprentice, however, held quite still. Because of the staging, I wouldn’t make too much of the workholding method (“Here boy, hold this board”).
2. This photo clearly answers a burning question: Should you store a plane on its side or on its sole? The answer: On its toe.
3. It’s nice to see the traditional three-finger grip on the saw’s tote. The saw looks fairly aggressive, more like a ripsaw, to me.
In any case, be sure to visit the Met’s site and zoom around the photo. There are some nice details. However, I wish it were a daguerreotype.
When I first visited Rosewood Studio, it was in Almonte, Ontario, and perched on the banks of the Mississippi River (no connection to the river of the same name in the United States). I was taking a chair class at another school that week and stopped by Rosewood to check it out.
I was impressed. For a small school, Rosewood attracted top-notch instructors, motivated students and had an excellent facility that was near a good pub and a great bakery.
In the last seven years, things have changed.
Rosewood is now in the town of Perth, Ontario, a gorgeous old stone village filled with nice places to eat and drink. The school is located in an Art Deco auto dealership building and still offers an excellent facility and great instructors, such as Michael Fortune and Garrett Hack.
What’s different? I’m an instructor instead of a visitor.
Ron Barter, the owner of Rosewood Studio, invited me to teach two classes there during the next seven days: a five-day class on “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest” and a two-day class on building a Shaker wall cabinet.
Obviously, I said “yes,” and we just finished up the first day of teaching the tool chest class. So far, the biggest challenge has been that this is probably the most experienced group of students I’ve taught. We didn’t need to cover sharpening. We didn’t need to cover handplane setup. We just plowed into the work.
I hope I have some control of this crew when Friday comes. If I do, then good for me. If I don’t good on them.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. I can attest that Perth has some excellent pubs. I’ll report back later on the bakery situation.
Holdfasts are one of the most essential items for bench work. But when were they invented?
It’s easy to date them to the 17th century, but what about before that?
Jeff Burks has been doing some research on this item and shared some of his notes with me. While there are still a lot of questions, we can at least date the holdfast back to the 16th century.
Here are Jeff’s notes:
This is the current state of my research into an illustration known as “Le Raboteur.” The source for this image was an oil painting by the Italian artist Annibale Carracci (1560-1609). I don’t have an exact date for the painting, but I know it was acquired as part of the Orléans collection in the beginning of the 18th century. It was subsequently bought by the Earl of Suffolk. On Oct. 11, 1856, the painting and eight others (including a Da Vinci) were stolen from Charlton Park. As far as I know, the original painting has never been recovered. So far I have found five different renditions of the painting as engravings. They are below. The painting depicts Christ and Joseph working at a carpenter’s bench with Mary looking on.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Annibale_Caracci
Le Raboteur – Conclave Triadis humanae 1670-1686 (shown above)
Etching published in Paris by Pierre Hallier, Print made by Jean Pesne
Inscription Content: Lettered in margin with title and ‘Anibal Carache Pinxit. P.Hlalier cum privil. Regis / Et se vend ches Pierre Hallier Marchand sur le petit pont proche le petit Chatelet à Paris’. Within the image ‘J. Pesne sculp.’ British Museum.
La Samaritaine / Galerie du Palais Royal
Print made by Jacques Couché 1786. Etching and engraving, printed from two separate plates.
Inscription Content: Lettered with production details “Annibal Carache Pinxit – J. Couché Sculpsit”, title, continuing: “De la Galerie de S. A. S. Monseigneur le Duc d’Orléans / A. P. D. R. / Ecole de Lombardie / I tableau d’Annibal Carrache”, size of original painting, and seventeen lines of description, in French. From the first volume of ‘Galerie du Palais Royal’, a set published between 1786 and 1808. This is the first of twenty-eight plates engraved after paintings then attributed to Carracci in the collection of the Duke of Orléans. British Museum.
Trade card of Delaplanche, a French ironmonger (magasin de quincaillerie et outils) with address. The image depicts the Holy Family and is modeled after Le Raboteur, with the addition of tools sold at the shop. The image is etched and the text is engraved. The card is undated, but Waddesdon suggests 1780-1800 because street numbers were introduced circa 1780. Waddesdon Collection.
Sainte Famille, Dite Le Rabouteur
Museé de peinture et de sculpture…Volume 11
Etienne Achille Réveil, Jean Duchesne 1831
The Illustrated London News printed a story about the theft at Charlton Park in its Nov. 8, 1856, issue. Included with that article was a woodcut engraving of the painting. The print was republished in ‘L’Univers Illustré’, 6 March, 1862, p. 108.