My daughter Katherine has cooked up another big batch of non-toxic Soft Wax 2.0, and it is now for sale in her etsy store.
As you can see, Shop Cat Bean is surprised/nonplussed/inscrutable in his reaction to the new batch of wax.
This Soft Wax is my favorite finish for chairs, and I use it on a lot of other projects when I was a low-luster finish that doesn’t create a film between me and the wood.
And yes, this stuff is safe enough that you can use it on your beard. More instructions below!
Instructions for Soft Wax 2.0
Soft Wax 2.0 is a non-toxic finish for bare wood that is incredibly easy to apply and imparts a beautiful low luster to the wood.
The finish is made by cooking raw, organic linseed oil (from the flax plant) and combining it with cosmetics-grade beeswax and a small amount of a citrus-based solvent. The result is that this finish can be applied without special safety equipment, such as a respirator. The only safety caution is to dry the rags out flat you used to apply before throwing them away. (All linseed oil generates heat as it cures, and there is a small but real chance of the rags catching fire if they are bunched up while wet.)
Soft Wax 2.0 is an ideal finish for pieces that will be touched a lot, such as chairs, turned objects and spoons. The finish does not build a film, so the wood feels like wood – not plastic. Because of this, the wax does not provide a strong barrier against water or alcohol. If you use it on countertops or a kitchen table, you will need to touch it up every once in a while. Simply add a little more Soft Wax to a deteriorated finish and the repair is done – no stripping or additional chemicals needed.
Soft Wax 2.0 is not intended to be used over a film finish (such as lacquer, shellac or varnish). It is best used on bare wood. However, you can apply it over a porous finish, such as milk paint.
APPLICATION INSTRUCTIONS (VERY IMPORTANT): Applying Soft Wax 2.0 is so easy if you follow the simple instructions. On bare wood, apply a thin coat of soft wax using a rag, applicator pad, 3M gray pad or steel wool. Allow the finish to soak in about 15 minutes. Then, with a clean rag or towel, wipe the entire surface until it feels dry. Do not leave any excess finish on the surface. If you do leave some behind, the wood will get gummy and sticky.
The finish will be dry enough to use in a couple hours. After a couple weeks, the oil will be fully cured. After that, you can add a second coat (or not). A second coat will add more sheen and a little more protection to the wood.
Soft Wax 2.0 is made in small batches in Kentucky using a waterless process. Each glass jar contains 8 oz. of soft wax, enough for two chairs.
Nancy Hiller’s “Shop Tails,” a companion book of essays to “Making Things Work,” is in the design phase. “Shop Tails” is different from “Making Things Work” in that it is structured around the animals that have come in and out of Nancy’s life, with each chapter focusing on a different one (or several different ones). The animal tales are sandwiched between some serious existential and biographical content provoked by her diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, and all of it is interwoven with true stories about non-human animals, in addition to reflections on how much they have taught her about life, love, illness, expectations, parenting, death and pudding.
In the weeks to come we will be sharing several excerpts from this remarkable book to give you insight into the essays’ depth, humor and the range of topics explored, all from the perspective of a woman who has spent most of her life as a cabinetmaker, period furniture maker and author, making things work while discovering her worth.
Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 6: “Oscar.” Enjoy!
— Kara Gebhart Uhl
Kent was adamant that I should cover the costs of college myself. I wouldn’t have had it any other way; I’ve always been stubborn and independent. I applied for every scholarship, grant and teaching assistantship available and entered essays in every contest. By the time I graduated in 1993, I’d paid for it all, in large part because tuition was still far more affordable than it is today. I had also kept up with the demands of our business: design work, drawing, bookkeeping and helping Kent with installations.
Living in a wooded part of Brown County made Oscar easy to care for. All we had to do was open the door, and he could take himself up the hill for a quick run, or out to the ravine to do his business. Now that we had a real home, I went into full-on domestic mode in my spare time, building new cabinets with ash faces to replace the generic dark-stained oak ones the previous homeowners had bought from a building-supply store. We tore out the “butcher-block” laminate counters and installed white laminate with a solid ash edge (again, it was the ’90s). While Kent was on a hiking trip out west I pulled out the same generic oak cabinets in the dressing area just off our bedroom and replaced them with a vanity designed after the circa-1815 counter at the Shaker Museum in Old Chatham, N.Y., pictured in June Sprigg’s book “Shaker Design.” I painted it pale blue, added a solid maple top and plumbed in my first sink, following the page of directions that came in the box with the faucet. I made flower beds in front of the house, digging compost and manure into the hard-packed clay while Oscar rolled in the grass and occasionally trotted off to investigate a rustling at the edge of the forest.
Oscar knew he was an integral member of our family. We made him hamburgers with a celebratory candle for his birthday every year and homemade Christmas crackers with Milk Bones inside for the holidays. We took him with us on trips to visit my family in Florida. We took him hiking. On the rare occasions when I joined Kent for a paddle, we put him with us in the canoe. I loved knowing that after so many years of living in small apartments where he had been cooped up alone all day while I was at work, he finally had the perfect home.
Our marriage, though, was less happy. I quickly became so consumed by my studies that Kent felt neglected. I gave him less and less attention as I devoted every available moment to reading and writing. Instead of really listening to his complaints and talking about what might make him feel less lonely, I told him to stop being needy. It didn’t even occur to me at the time that my obsession with excelling in my studies was fueled by a deep-seated urge to prove my own worth.
I had already decided to go on to graduate school and applied for fellowships to fund that project when we got a commission for a large armoire in hard maple. I can’t recall the exact dimensions, but this thing was big – around 42 inches wide and at least 6 feet tall, with a pair of massive doors. When delivery day arrived, we removed the doors and drove it to our clients’ house. “I’m so happy you’re delivering it, and not a moving company,” said the wife. “I know you’ll take more care with the wallpaper on the stairs.”
Kent took the top position, with me below. I have always found it easier to bear weight from below than to be the one on top, leaning over a massive piece of furniture while walking backwards up a flight of stairs. The staircase had a couple of steps at the bottom, then a dog-leg landing before the main flight. After we’d maneuvered the beast around the turn, I repositioned myself for the long haul; to push with my shoulders, I had to bend my head sharply to the left, which immediately felt like a bad idea. “Be careful of the wallpaper!” our client reminded us. I powered through. We re-hung the doors, adjusted the piece so it was level and left with a check.
About a week later I was giving Oscar a bath, something he reluctantly allowed me to do. It was late summer, 1993; my first semester of grad school had begun. I leaned over the tub, wrapped Oscar in a towel and lifted him out. I felt a click in my upper back but thought nothing of it and carried on with the rest of the day.
A burning ache developed in my upper right back, between my shoulder blade and spine. Over-the-counter painkillers took off the edge, but the pain was unrelenting. One night I awoke around 2 a.m. feeling as though a stick was wedged in my esophagus. It hurt like crazy, but more troubling to me was the thought that one of my ribs might somehow have become dislodged and was poking into my throat. (I have a vivid imagination. Anything can happen within the invisible recesses of the body.) I woke Kent up and said I needed to go to the hospital. “You can drive yourself,” he replied. Not wanting to argue – time seemed of the essence – I got up, dressed and headed to town. It was pitch-black out; I was driving myself to the emergency room in tears, terrified about what might have gone wrong in my body and hurt by Kent’s unwillingness to go with me.
An X-ray showed no apparent injury to the ribs or spine, so the doctor prescribed a muscle relaxer and sent me home.
Figure 8.1. Cross section of a board illustrating the three zones used to describe a moisture gradient, i.e., the core, intermediate zone and the shell. This is convenient but there aren’t actually distinct lines between each zone.
Richard Jones has spent his entire life as a professional woodworker and has dedicated himself to researching the technical details of wood in great depth, this material being the woodworker’s most important resource. The result is “Cut & Dried: A Woodworker’s Guide to Timber Technology” (from which the information below is an excerpt). In this book, Richard explores every aspect of the tree and its wood, from how it grows to how it is then cut, dried and delivered to your workshop.
In section 6.4 the drying and rewetting of wood was illustrated by using a sponge or towel to represent wood. An extension of this analogy serves as a preliminary introduction to terminology about the wood-seasoning process. Let’s say, for the sake of discussion, that you soak a very large and thick bath towel in a water bath. Lift up the sopping towel and wring it out as thoroughly as possible. Let us also assume you have the unlikely physical ability to wring out every drop of loose (free) water in the towel so the only water left is that bound within its fibres. This towel now stands for wood commonly and erroneously described as being at fibre saturation point (FSP), although the comments on FSP made in section 6.5 should be borne in mind. Fold the towel up three or four times into a long large sausage and hang it over a washing line. It’s a cool, dull, still, overcast day with, perhaps, intermittent, very light drizzle.
The towel will barely dry any further in the described weather conditions until either a breeze starts, the sun comes out or both changes happen together. It’s common knowledge that even if the sun doesn’t come out but a breeze starts the bundled-up towel will dry. Similarly, if there’s no breeze but the sun comes out the additional warmth causes water to evaporate from the towel’s fibres. In both cases described, the towel will eventually dry through. Put the two factors together, i.e., warmth and moving air, and the towel dries more rapidly than it will with either just a breeze or just extra warmth. Within the bundled-up drying towel there is a moisture gradient: As the towel dries it remains wetter in the middle of the bundle than near the surface. Assuming drying continues, the moisture content within the towel gradually evens out until it has an equal moisture content all through.
Without really knowing any science or terminology we know how to dry clothes quickly. Options include hanging them on a washing line on a warm, lightly breezy, sunny day, putting them out on a dull but dry and windy day, or hanging them over a warm radiator, and so on. Clothes fully opened and pegged on a line dry much quicker than clothes bunched up tightly.
What applies to drying clothes has similarities to the conditions that will dry wood. To dry wood quicker, heat air and move the hot air over it, although with wood, when it has dried to approximately 20 percent MC, the primary drivers for further drying are air temperature and humidity, not the speed at which the air passes over the wood. Thin boards dry faster than thick boards, which is analogous to opening clothes out to dry rather than leaving them bunched up. Fast drying of wood with very hot dry air will certainly accomplish the task, but it usually comes with an unacceptable price, i.e., degradation of one sort or another such as splitting, surface checking, case-hardening18, collapse (aka core collapse), honeycombing etc., making the wood unusable and unsellable. It’s imperative to control the speed at which wood dries in order to produce an acceptable end product.
The air’s RH must be low enough to absorb more water vapour. Air at 100 percent RH cannot absorb any more water vapour. Wet wood in RH conditions like this is comparable to my earlier description of hanging washing out to dry on a cool, damp, intermittently drizzly day – the clothes dry very slowly.
Warm air transfers heat to the wood causing the moisture in it to evaporate into the air. Again, the RH of the air must be low enough to absorb the water vapour given off by the wood. Drying kilns add warm air to the drying chamber, which transfers heat energy to both the wood and the water within it. The difference in temperature between the introduced dry air and the wet wood is often, but not always, quite small at the beginning of the kilning process. Water in the wood converts to vapour and evaporates through the wood surface into the air introduced into the drying chamber. The air temperature within a kiln is high, e.g., at stages in the wood drying process temperatures of 65.5° C (150° F) or more are used. At this temperature if the air stays at 70 percent RH it will eventually dry wood to approximately 10.5 percent MC (see figure 8.2).
If the air becomes too humid to dry the wood effectively, one of two things must happen for the wood to continue drying. First, further raising the temperature of the air in the kiln reduces its RH. Hotter air is capable of holding additional moisture released from the wood. Second, moving the humid air out of the drying chamber and replacing it with drier air will continue the drying process. Raising the temperature of the air already in the chamber is the cheapest option, but too high a temperature may lead to faults in the wood, particularly in some species more than others, e.g., surface checking as described earlier.
As timber dries, a moisture gradient develops inside the wood much like the earlier-described folded-up towel hanging over a washing line. In a wood-drying kiln where air temperatures are artificially high, generally the greater the temperature of the air acting on the wood, the steeper the moisture gradient within it, and moisture moves out of the wood faster. This also leads to faster evaporation of moisture from the surface of wood. Conversely, when wood is air dried and therefore experiences normal weather conditions, or if the wood is in service in a typical environment found in habitable buildings, RH is the primary controller of the steepness of the wood’s moisture gradient – air temperature in these circumstances has only a small effect.
For green wet wood to dry, as freshly milled boards or planks, for example, air must be moving to carry moisture away from the wood’s surface; this creates a place for the water deeper in the wood to migrate to, where it will also be carried away by the flow of air. If only a small volume of stagnant dry air surrounds wet wood, that air quickly becomes fully saturated with evaporated water. At that point no further drying can occur until that pocket of air moves away and is replaced by drier air.
Moving air carries moisture away from the wood’s exterior, thus drying the wood. But the air molecules adjacent to the wood surface stick to it. Air molecules just above the surface collide with the stuck air molecules and their movement is disrupted and slowed down. In turn, these air molecules impede the flow of air molecules just above them. As distance from the wood surface increases, the collisions diminish until air movement is unimpeded and becomes free flowing. In effect there is a thin layer of viscous “fluid” near the surface where velocity changes from zero at the surface to free flowing some distance away from it. “Engineers call this layer the boundary layer because it occurs on the boundary of the fluid.”19 (Benson, 2009, p 1) Within the boundary layer next to the wood the air is wetter (because it’s picked up moisture from the wood) and travels slower than the air above the boundary layer – it tends to hold the moisture taken from the wood close to the wood’s surface. A faster-moving air stream reduces the effect of the boundary layer and it sweeps away the damp air with its high-vapour pressure. The damp air is replaced with new drier air, i.e. air with a lower vapour pressure better able to absorb further moisture from the wood.
Whether wood is air dried or kiln dried the air entering the wood stack from one end has a lower RH than the air leaving the stack at the far end. Moving air leaving a stack of drying wood is cooler than the air entering it. The air cools as it transfers heat to the wood, thus enabling the drying process. If the air continuously passes through a stack of wood in one direction, the wood at the “upwind” end of the stack always dries faster than the wood at the “downwind” end. This results in unevenly dried planks of wood where the downwind end of a stack might be 3 percent or 4 percent wetter than the upwind side. In more extreme cases, the difference in moisture content between the upwind and downwind side of a stack may be 8 percent to 10 percent MC if the wood is very wet at the start of the drying process – in this case one possible result is the stack of wood may lean toward the drier side. This effect is more evident in wide stacks of wood, e.g., greater than about 2 metres (~6′), than in narrow stacks. Natural changes in wind direction and speed cancel out this effect in stacks of air-dried wood. It is only if a kiln operator is drying a wide stack of wood, or some particularly difficult to dry woods, that there is a real need to regularly alternate the air flow direction within the chamber. To achieve this, the fan blade rotation is reversed at evenly spaced intervals, e.g., every two hours, four hours, 12 hours etc. This upwind and downwind disparity in the drying ability of moving air in a stack of wood limits the size of a stickered pile of planks. This is especially the case with air drying where the yard owner really has less control over temperature, wind speed or wind direction. However, it should be noted that air velocity in either a kiln or in an air-drying wood pile is most important at the initial drying stage of wet wood because of its role in carrying away moisture from the wood surface. As the wood dries the significance of air movement gradually diminishes until the wood reaches about 20 percent MC. At this MC the primary critical factors for further drying are humidity and temperature, with the importance of air movement reducing significantly the drier the wood becomes.
Figure 8.2. North American research showing the relationship between the EMC of (primarily) Sitka spruce samples in response to a range of temperature and atmospheric RH conditions.
My daughter Katherine has cooked up a batch of Soft Wax 2.0, a non-toxic finish that I use on my chairs, kitchen countertops, tables and other household objects.
We switched to making this finish because it is non-toxic. And it works just as well as the high-solvent based wax she made for years. Katherine sells the wax through her etsy store. It is $24 for an 8 ounce jar, which is enough to finish two stick chairs (at least). A little bit goes a long way.
Here are the details and instructions.
Soft Wax 2.0 is a non-toxic finish for bare wood that is incredibly easy to apply and imparts a beautiful low luster to the wood.
The finish is made by cooking raw, organic linseed oil (from the flax plant) and combining it with cosmetics-grade beeswax and a small amount of a citrus-based solvent. The result is that this finish can be applied without special safety equipment, such as a respirator. The only safety caution is to dry the rags out flat you used to apply before throwing them away. (All linseed oil generates heat as it cures, and there is a small but real chance of the rags catching fire if they are bunched up while wet.)
Soft Wax 2.0 is an ideal finish for pieces that will be touched a lot, such as chairs, turned objects and spoons. The finish does not build a film, so the wood feels like wood – not plastic. Because of this, the wax does not provide a strong barrier against water or alcohol. If you use it on countertops or a kitchen table, you will need to touch it up every once in a while. Simply add a little more Soft Wax to a deteriorated finish and the repair is done – no stripping or additional chemicals needed.
Soft Wax 2.0 is not intended to be used over a film finish (such as lacquer, shellac or varnish). It is best used on bare wood. However, you can apply it over a porous finish, such as milk paint.
APPLICATION INSTRUCTIONS (VERY IMPORTANT): Applying Soft Wax 2.0 is so easy if you follow the simple instructions. On bare wood, apply a thin coat of soft wax using a rag, applicator pad, 3M gray pad or steel wool. Allow the finish to soak in about 15 minutes. Then, with a clean rag or towel, wipe the entire surface until it feels dry. Do not leave any excess finish on the surface. If you do leave some behind, the wood will get gummy and sticky.
The finish will be dry enough to use in a couple hours. After a couple weeks, the oil will be fully cured. After that, you can add a second coat (or not). A second coat will add more sheen and a little more protection to the wood.
Soft Wax 2.0 is made in small batches in Kentucky using a waterless process. Each glass jar contains 8 oz. of soft wax, enough for two chairs.
BALTIMORE DEMILUNE CARD TABLE (1988). Mahogany. 30″ high x 36″ wide x 36″ deep. (Photos courtesy of Fine Woodworking)
The following is excerpted from “The Difference Makers,” by Marc Adams, a collection of remarkable stories and work from 30 of the best furniture makers, toolmakers, luthiers, sculptors and more with whom Marc has worked since 1993 at his eponymous school.
Steve Latta makes contemporary and traditional furniture while teaching woodworking at Thaddeus Stevens College of Technology and Millersville University in Lancaster County, Pa. He’s a contributing editor to Fine Woodworking magazine and has released several videos on inlay and furniture construction. He has lectured at Colonial Williamsburg, The Museum of Early Southern Decorative Arts and Winterthur Museum, as well as numerous other schools and guilds. Working in conjunction with Lie-Nielsen Toolworks, he helped develop and market a set of contemporary inlay tools. Steve is an active member of the Society of American Period Furniture Makers and a juried member of the Pennsylvania Guild of Craftsmen. He lives with his wife, Elizabeth, in rural southeastern Pennsylvania, with their three children – Fletcher, Sarah and Grace – nearby.
WALNUT BOOKCASE (2002). Walnut. 50″ high x 30-1/2″ wide x 13″ deep. (Photo courtesy of Fine Woodworking)
On the Professional Side In high school and all through college Steve worked in bicycle shops, eventually funding his tuition with his own repair business. After graduating, he continued fixing bicycles until the day he was offered a job making cabinets. “With bikes, you put the pieces in harmony,” he says. “With wood, you get to make the pieces.” That concept appealed to Steve and at the young age of 22, he made a career change. For the first eight years it was mostly on-the-job training. Steve did everything from cabinet making to trim carpentry before he landed in Kent, Ohio, where he worked for two companies: Western Reserve Furniture, as a shift foreman, and then on to a much smaller shop, Liberty Custom Furniture. It was during this time that Steve started to gain interest in making period furniture, which led him to move to the Philadelphia area in hopes of finding a shop looking for an apprentice.
FEDERAL END TABLE (2015). Walnut with inlays. 26″ high x 18″ wide x 17″ deep. (Photo courtesy of Fine Woodworking)
“When this journey started, I realized that I liked small, high-quality shops that did not pull the punches,” he says. “So I would work for someone for a few years and when I had learned as much as that shop had to offer, I would move on to the next.”
In time, Steve became known for his skill at inlay and veneering, specifically in the Federal style. However, he has always considered himself more of a process guy than a production guy; he often enjoys the journey more than the destination. In his personal work, Steve is trying to break away from the mould of being a maker known for a specific style.
“With period work, the design is pretty much given and the emphasis is on interpretation,” he says. Today he is developing his own designs. On a trip to Ireland, Steve was moved by the geometric lines in many of the beautiful cathedrals and Celtic work. Inspired by these patterns he has moved to a new type of work involving a much freer style of inlay and a much broader view of “traditional” work. But Steve admits that he would love to have been a 17th- or 18th-century silversmith: “Their work just blows me away.”
FEDERAL SIDEBOARD (2011). Mahogany solids and veneers, maple and inlays. 40″ high x 62″ wide x 22″ deep. (Photo courtesy of Fine Woodworking)
In all his success, Steve still considers one item to be his crowning achievement. It’s not that Lie-Nielsen has made a series of videos which feature him or sells his inlay tools. Nor is it the fact that writing for Fine Woodworking has made him a legend in woodworking circles. Today, if you were to ask Steve what he considers to be his greatest accomplishment, it would be teaching for the last 20 years at Thaddeus Stevens College of Technology. “My best work, outside of my family, is on display in shops and classrooms all across the country,” he says. “I am referring to my students who have graduated and work in the field and teach in the classroom.”
CHIPPENDALE MIRROR (2006). Quilted makore. 15″ wide x 27″ tall. (Photo courtesy of Fine Woodworking)
On the Personal Side There is an old saying that “those who can, do. Those who cannot, teach.” That is not the case with Steve. He is a brilliantly talented craftsman and an even better teacher. To complete the package, he is a man of strong faith and dedicated to his family. Steve regularly volunteers his time to local organizations as well as international missionary work.
Steve was recommended by finishing expert Jeff Jewitt the summer of 2001. Although Steve had been woodworking most of his adult life, he was unknown nationally. So, I decided to take a pass, but I did keep his name on file. In 2003, Steve sent me an email to introduce himself, along with a résumé and photos of a few of his furniture pieces. His work showed stellar skill, but his résumé didn’t prove he could teach.
SPICE CHEST (1995). Walnut with inlay. 19″ high x 15″ wide x 10″ deep.
Through the years MASW has offered a class called “Decorative Details.” I knew what I wanted from such a workshop, but previous instructors missed the mark. Photos of Steve’s work showed remarkable string inlay, which would make for a perfect Decorative Details workshop. I asked, he accepted and the rest is history. In his very first class he was organized, articulate and his demonstrations were spot-on. Students loved him, as did my staff. And within a year or two he had become one of the largest draws at the school.
What makes Steve so good? It’s not the quality of workmanship or skill he possesses, nor is it his remarkable ability to make complex tasks simple. What makes Steve so good is his servant’s heart. In all my years, I have only met one other person like Steve, and that is Mitch Kohanek. The similarity between these two men is that they both have chosen not to make oodles of money in the private sector, which they could, but they dedicated their lives to the humble service of teaching. Both teach at community colleges with modest pay, long hours and often little recognition from within the systems they work for.
TEA BOX (2016). Walnut, cedar and spalted birch. 4-1/2″ high x 14″ wide x 9″ deep. “The wood for this box was salvaged from branches left after a storm at a local Quaker Meeting,” Steve says.
Each week MASW hosts an evening slide show where instructors show slides of their body of work. Steve could talk about his experiences as a contributing editor at Fine Woodworking. He could talk about the tools he developed or videos he did for Lie-Nielsen. He could talk about his leadership in SAPFM, TV show appearances or being a guest lecturer at Colonial Williamsburg.
Instead he prefers to focus on the work of his students. He talks about each person as a proud father talks about a child. Though it’s Steve’s moment to shine, he humbly turns the spotlight from himself to others. He finishes his presentation by saying that his great hope is that someday, one of his students will teach at MASW. Steve considers that will be his crowning achievement. I can’t wait for that to happen.
WALNUT BLANKET CHEST (2017). Walnut with inlay. 20″ high x 42″ wide x 24″ deep.
