Philippe Lafargue died at his home from an undiagnosed glioblastoma on June 22. Philippe has been instrumental in the Roubo project, helping with translations for “Make as Perfectly as Possible: Roubo on Marquetry” and “With All Precision Possible: Roubo on Furniture.”
“When we first met more than 35 years ago, I recognized immediately the talents Philippe possessed, talents that often surpassed his ability to communicate them,” says Don Williams, who co-authored the Roubo books along with Michele Pietryka-Pagán. “Over the years, thanks to the foundation of the multi-year curriculum of École Boulle and the career choices he made later on, combined with the thoughtful encouragement of his former wife, Maria, and the family life with his children, he became what Tom Wolfe would call ‘A man in full.’ In the end, his contribution of good-humored friendship and technical, historical and verbal expertise was integral to Team Roubo functioning smoothly for creating the volumes. We will proceed without him, although to be truthful, I cannot fully envision that right now.”
On learning of his death, Michelewrote, “I never actually met Philippe, but I could tell from one phone call that I was communicating with a true professional – not only a true master at what he did, but also a superb human being. We are all worse off with this loss of Philippe. May he rest in peace.”
We recently featured Philippe in a Meet the Author profile. It ended with this quote from Philippe:
“You can fight all the time but life is going to take you where it’s going to take you. It’s up for you to go for it, to be quick to accept and change. And you are always part of it. That’s the beauty of it. No matter what happened, you are part of it – 50 percent is your choice. The rest is to accept that you have decided to do this or not. That’s the difficult part. But life is short. Life is to be lived. Life is to discover yourself.”
The following is excerpted from “The Joiner and Cabinet Maker,” by Anonymous, Christopher Schwarz and Joel Moskowitz.
It begins in 1839. In that year, an English publisher issued a small book on woodworking that has – until now – escaped detection by scholars, historians and woodworkers.Titled “The Joiner and Cabinet Maker,” this short book was written by an anonymous tradesman and tells the fictional tale of Thomas, a lad of 13 or 14 who is apprenticed to a rural shop that builds everything from built-ins to more elaborate veneered casework. The book was written to guide young people who might be considering a life in the joinery or cabinetmaking trades, and every page is filled with surprises.
Unlike other woodworking books of the time, “The Joiner and Cabinet Maker” focuses on how apprentices can obtain the basic skills needed to work in a hand-tool shop. It begins with Thomas tending the fire to keep the hide glue warm, and it details how he learns stock preparation, many forms of joinery and casework construction. It ends with Thomas building a veneered mahogany chest of drawers that is French polished. However, this is not a book for children. It is a book for anyone exploring hand-tool woodworking.
Thanks to this book, we can stop guessing at how some operations were performed by hand and read first-hand how joints were cut and casework was assembled in one rural England shop.
Here’s what you’ll find in our expanded edition of this book:
• A historical snapshot of early 19th-century England. Moskowitz, a book collector and avid history buff, explains what England was like at the time this book was written, including the state of the labor force and woodworking technology. This dip into the historical record will expand your enjoyment of Thomas’s tale.
• The complete text of “The Joiner and Cabinet Maker,” unabridged and unaltered. We present every word of the 1839 original (plus a chapter on so-called “modern tools” added in a later edition), with footnotes from Moskowitz that will help you understand the significance of the story.
• Chapters on the construction of the three projects from “The Joiner and Cabinet Maker.” Schwarz built all three projects – a Packing Box, a dovetailed Schoolbox and a Chest of Drawers – using hand tools. The construction chapters in this new edition of “The Joiner and Cabinet Maker” show the operations in the book, explain details on construction and discuss the hand-tool methods that have arisen since this book was originally published.
• Complete construction drawings. Lost Art Press drafted all three projects in SketchUp to create detailed drawings and cutting lists for the modern woodworker.
Confession time: No one has ever taught me how to fit a lock. I have always done it by instinct, feeling along in the dark until the thing fit and worked (after a good deal of fussing).
So reading the directions in “The Joiner and Cabinet Maker” was a real revelation. As a result, fitting the lock for the Schoolbox was straightforward, fast and simple. That’s the good news. The bad news is that I don’t have anything to compare it to except my own self-taught ham-handed cave-carving methods. So you’re not going to get anything to compare Thomas’s methods to.
In any case, this method works great. Here we go. The key to everything with setting the lock is the pin that the key turns on. Yes, the keyhole is important, but not as important as the location of the pin. Let this square piece of brass guide you and you’ll be fine.
Bore a hole through the front of the box using a birdcage awl. The sharp arrises of the awl will bore through the front. Barring that, drill a hole that is smaller than the pin in the lockset and test the fit.
Find the centerline of the front of the Schoolbox and strike a vertical centerline near the top. The line need only be 1″ or 2″ long. Now you want to bore a scant hole through the front that the pin will push into (that’s why the pin is proud of the lock mechanism). You can measure this location, as Thomas did. Or you can line up the top of the lockset with the top of the carcase and push the pin into the soft pine. Then set the lockset aside and use a birdcage awl to bore a hole straight through the front of the box, where the pin should go. When you break through to the inside of the box, try to fit the pin into the hole in the front of the box. Widen the hole on both sides until the pine holds the pin right where it will be in the end.
With the lockset in place, position your square up to the extents of the top plate and trace those lines on the top edge of your box.
Now mark where the top plate of the lockset will fit in the top edge of the Schoolbox. Working from the front of the box, press the pin into your hole. Clamp the lockset in place and trace the extents of the lockset onto the top edge of the Schoolbox. Use a square to help.
Here I’m using a cutting gauge to mark the front edge of the lockset on the top edge of the box. Then measure the thickness of this top plate and mark that on the inside of the box. Start wasting away this shallow mortise.
Now you want to mark out the width of the top of the lockset’s plate on the box. Set your marking or cutting gauge to the width of the plate and use the gauge to connect the distance between the two pencil lines you just struck. The mortise for the top plate of your lockset is now ready to be wasted away.
Router planes excel at this type of detail work. When you need mortises that are exactly the same depth (such as matching hinge mortises), a small router plane is the tool for the job.
To remove this waste, score it with a chisel that you drive with taps of your mallet. You can then remove the waste with the chisel or use a router plane to ensure the depth of your mortise is consistent.
A drawer-lock chisel is great for this sort of close-quarters work. Score the waste with the drawer-lock chisel then remove the scored waste with a bench chisel by working from the top.
Now push the pin of the lock into the hole in the inside of the Schoolbox. The works of the lock will butt against the front piece. Trace around the box that holds the works. Measure the thickness of the lockset and mark this as the finished depth of your lock’s mortise. You can chisel out this recess, or you can saw its extents, then chisel it.
Use a fairly thick pencil lead to mark around the works of the lock. The corners of the lockset might be rounded over during manufacturing, and a thick pencil will actually give you a more accurate line than a skinny pencil lead.
The rest is easy. Press the lock into this mortise and trace around its back plate. Then waste away this area using the same techniques discussed above. If you measured carefully you should have a fullmortise lock that fits completely flush without thinning the front of the Schoolbox any more than necessary.
Use some small files to enlarge the hole for the key. Use a rattail file to enlarge the hole around the pin. Use a flat file to make room for the rest of the key. It doesn’t have to be perfect if you are going to cover the keyhole with an escutcheon plate.
Screw the lockset in place and fetch the steel hinges. They need to be installed in the case before the lid is affixed.
One of our local treasures, the Baker Hunt Art and Cultural Center, hosts a free lecture series in its Scudder House ballroom, and the speaker on August 13 is Christopher Schwarz. His subject? Chairmaking, of course!
“Not long ago, most households in Kentucky had the basic tools and skills to build their own furniture. If you raised crops or animals, you needed a few tools to keep things working. Plus you had time during the winter to make a table or a few chairs.
“Today, a skill like chairmaking seems entirely too difficult to do without special training. Chairs have a lot of crazy angles and difficult joints. But we know that farmers and laborers made them all the time. How?
“For the last 22 years, furniture maker Christoper Schwarz has studied the furniture made by everyday people – what academics call “vernacular furniture – which is ignored by most museums. By studying older pieces and building new versions of them, Chris has found the clever ways in which farmers and other non-professionals did complex trigonometry and precise joinery using basic tools.
“In this presentation, Chris will show off a 300-year-old chair made by a farmer and the clues it offers as to how it was built. And then he’ll use those clues to assemble a basic chair on stage.”
The lecture is from 6-8 p.m.; a cash bar is available. While the event is free, seating is limited, so registration is required. The Center is located at 630 Greenup Street, Covington, Ky., 401011.
Scholarship applications are now open for six spots in a special comb-back class in our Covington, Kentucky, workshop Sept. 15-19. The class is offered through The Chairmaker’s Toolbox, a non-profit organization that provides education and support to those who have been historically excluded from the craft.
The six students will spend five days building and finishing a vernacular comb-back chair using lots of hand tools and occasionally the band saw. The scholarship covers full tuition, all materials, and breakfasts and lunches during the week. (Housing and transportation are the responsibility of the student.)
Full details and the application are here. The deadline to apply is July 6, 2025. People of all skill levels are encouraged to apply.
This is the fourth year I have taught this class, and it’s one of the highlights of my year. The classes are intense, but they’re filled with good food, camaraderie and the occasional moonwalking lesson.
The “goose girl” statue in our Main Strasse neighborhood.
Our workshop is in the inner city in an old German neighborhood. The shop is an 1890s German barroom. As a result, you don’t really need a car once you get here. You can walk anywhere you want to go (including Cincinnati, which is right over the Roebling Suspension Bridge). Covington itself is a diverse, open and accepting community.
A lot of students come here with odd ideas about Kentucky (Will there be plumbing? Will people be riding horses?) I guess you’ll have to come find out for yourself.
You don’t need all the tools to take the class – some students show up with just a tape measure and a lot of enthusiasm. And that’s more than enough. We have plenty of chairmaking and general woodworking tools here we can loan you.
If you aren’t going to apply for the scholarship, please consider passing along this information to someone you know who might be interested.
We are not fancy here. So when Megan threatened to wear a skirt, I knew this was a serious event.
Rob Spiece, director of woodcraft at Berea Student Craft, had scored invitations for all of us to see the opening of a new exhibit at the Taft Museum in Cincinnati: The Crafted World of Wharton Esherick.
It’s rare for Esherick’s pieces to leave Pennsylvania, and this was a chance to see the pieces interpreted by Rob, a woodworker who knows a lot about Esherick’s work and life (Rob is from the Philadelphia area).
So I put on a chambray shirt and pants that weren’t visibly ragged. And we arrived at the Taft’s valet parking station in my minivan.
Esherick (1887-1970) was a polymath who excelled at painting, sculpture, woodblock prints and furniture design. His paintings brush up against American impressionism at the end of the Arts & Crafts Movement in this country. His furniture is incredibly forward-looking, presaging the studio furniture movement in the 20th century.
The first piece we looked at (above) was Esherick’s first woodworking project, Rob said. It’s a huge drop-front desk with massive wooden carved hinges. The little detail in the base that looks like moulding? That’s a big flat drawer. The piece was made with little concern for wood movement or traditional practice, and it has cracks here and there. But the piece has an incredible presence.
I, of course, was interested in Esherick’s chairs. First up was this woven-seat chair made from hammer handles. While the idea was a simple art school trope (furniture from alternative objects), the execution was sublime. Even the choice of wood for the backrest.
This impressionist painting (below) by Esherick was a turning point for the artist, Rob said. Esherick built and carved the frame for the painting, and Esherick’s painting instructor suggested he might be a better carver than painter (I think the painting of yellow pines is beautiful, but what do I know?).
That remark helped propel Esherick into the world of furniture. His home in Malvern, Pennsylvania, became a complete art project for him. Every aspect of the building, from the stairwells down to the drawer pulls, are marked by his work.
Every aspect of his desk reflects this sensibility, all the drawers are filled with handmade cubbies and trays that provide dedicated spaces for all his writing tools.
If you visit Cincinnati in the next few months, I highly recommend visiting this exhibit. I don’t have room to show or discuss his woodcuts, which are incredible. The Taft Museum itself is worth a visit for its architecture – an early wooden Greek Revival home preserved in downtown Cincinnati.
And really, you don’t have to wear a skirt to the exhibit (Megan stuck with her jeans during our visit).
