Final notice: We have fewer than 100 copies of “The Book of Plates” left in stock. When it is sold out, it will be gone forever. The book is at the almost-losing-money price of $49.
If you live outside the United States, you can buy the book at this rock-bottom price at Lee Valley, which is also closing out its stock. Link here. Highland Woodworking also has it for $49.
For those of you who have purchased the book, thank you for helping us clear out this title, which was gobbling up storage fees at our warehouse because it is so massive.
As on every second Saturday of the month the Lost Art Press storefront is open this Saturday, June 8, from 10 a.m.-5 p.m., for all your book-browsing and woodworking-question needs.
We have the entire line of books on display (as well as a few card scrapers), and they can be purchased with cash, check or credit card. We’re also available to answer questions, demonstrate woodworking techniques and even teach you a skill or two. Kids and pets are always welcome. And for cash or check only, we have available a couple of lump hammer and holdfast “blems” (they work just fine – they’re just not aesthetic perfection) and one or two “blem” books.
Plus, we’ve some quality used tools to sell as well, some of which are pictured in the gallery below. These are cash or check only, and must be inspected/paid for/picked up on site; no shipping, I’m afraid.
If you need some sweetener to get your family to come along, we have one word for you: brunch.
Saturday Brunch in Covington
We are surrounded by some of the best brunch places in the city. Here’s a quick list of our favorites.
Ottos’s. Getting in for brunch at Otto’s is tough on Sundays. Not so much on Saturdays. The lemon ricotta pancakes are amazing, as is the breakfast casserole.
Main Street Tavern. As we are furniture makers and writers, we love the bargain brunch at Main Street. Really, everything is great. The waffles are fantastic. The hash special is always good. My personal favorite is the biscuit sandwich with bacon.
Libby’s Southern Comfort. This place just opened. We tried it for lunch and we cannot wait to try brunch.
There’s a new school for hand-tool woodworking, blacksmithing and long rifle making in Northern Ohio that is definitely worth checking out.
Called Colonial Homestead’s Artisans Guild, the school operates out of a storefront in Millersburg, Ohio, a vibrant old town with some beautiful architecture and even a working inn. There’s nothing quaint about the town. It’s just a 19th-century town that never got the memo that small towns are supposed to be dead.
In the heart of downtown is Dan Raber’s tool store, called Colonial Homestead. It’s the best-stocked tool store I’ve seen outside the East Coast (and rivals Hull’s Cove Tool Barn). Raber is the spearhead for the school, which is across the street from the store.
The last time I visited Millersburg, Raber was still working on the building. Now there are workbenches, a forge and lots of natural light from the storefront window.
There are a wide variety of instructors and the prices are very competitive. Check out the current class list here.
The school has a lot going for it. Raber is a tireless advocate for hand tool use. His tool store is a huge candy store for woodworkers. And the school is in Ohio’s Amish country. There’s great food, cheese, quilts, lumber (Keim Lumber and Yoder Lumber) and lots of beautiful rolling hills. It would make an excellent family vacation spot.
At parties put on by my wife’s co-workers, who are television journalists, people sometimes ask me what I do for a living (and sometimes they don’t – the black beard is off-putting). After I explain the woodworking and writing thing, they follow up with:
Like sports? Nope.
Play golf? Nope.
What church do you go to? None.
Belong to any clubs? Nah.
Politics? Please no.
Hobbies? Woodworking.
I then salute them for trying. I honestly am the most boring person in social situations. To be fair I enjoy music and food at a deep level. But that never comes up when the Reds are in last place in the league (information that Lucy has supplied to me).
Here’s how twisted it gets. As a relief from the stress of making furniture for a living, I make furniture. I usually keep a chair or two in parts under my bench that I can pull out when I have a few minutes at the end of the day. Working out a crazy angle or joint gives me immense peace.
It’s a guilty pleasure. These pieces rarely make me any real money – I give them away or sell them for the cost of materials. But I honestly think they keep me out of therapy and off medication. And I can honestly see how our craft helps people who suffer from PTSD, depression, addiction or worse.
I know it sounds like I’m warming you up for a book like “Shopcraft as Soulcraft,” or some such. But scratch that idea. I don’t think those “why we make stuff” books are for people who actually make stuff. Those books are intended only to create more thinking about making – not actual making. (Apologies. I know people love those sorts of books, but they don’t do much for me.)
If you really have the urge to make stuff, nothing can stop you. And honestly, you don’t need a book (not even a Lost Art Press book) to get started. A knife and a stick of wood is impetus enough. The rest will follow. It always does.
OK, I need you to sod off now. I have a tricky angle to work out on this Irish chair tomorrow (after I do 100 other things to make some money). And I need to dream of sticks, holes and really weird drilling angles.
For a more in-depth look of Peter Follansbee’s “Joiner’s Work,” check out the (free!) PDF excerpt we’ve posted here. It includes the table of contents, dedication, acknowledgements, introduction and the bookstand chapter.
While copy editing Peter’s book I was delighted with its rarity. It’s difficult to write a how-to, project-based book in a conversational tone well. Peter excels at this. He treats the reader as if he or she is in the same room and there’s no stuffiness, no holier-than-thou, no “my way is the right way.” He makes his recommendations, tells the reader what has worked for him – and what has not – and emphasizes that it’s fine to do it another way. This style of writing reads so easily but its casualness reminds me of the Steve Jobs quote: “Simple can be harder than complex: You have to work hard to get your thinking clean to make it simple.”
Oh, and Peter is a master of boosting one’s confidence without making you feel like a child. Its subtle, but brilliant. You’ll see. And when things do go wrong? He promises you he gets it – for almost everything he warns you about, he recognizes his own humbling experiences.
I could go on. But just check out the excerpt. This one is a joy to read.
