One of the curious frustrations in researching “Ingenious Mechanicks” was reading the reports from archaeologists who speculated on how woodworking tools were used or objects were made. It became obvious that some of these guys didn’t know the difference between a dovetail and a mortise. And hadn’t ever cut one.
Not all archeologists are like this.
Check out this fantastic article from the Archaeology.org site about the joinery in a 7,000-year-old well. Not only do they do normal stuff in the lab, but they try to remake the well with tools available at the time. And start with the tree.
“You have to handle things. By using stone tools ourselves, we can see what works and what doesn’t work,” says archaeologist Rengert Elburg. “Because from your writing desk you can’t say anything.”
I put it a bit more crudely in “Ingenious Mechanicks:”
“It’s not fair to our early ancestors to put words in their mouths. We don’t know how dry their wood was when they started to build their workbenches. Was it fresh from the tree? Dried for 20 years? Something in between?
“We can guess, which is what most people do. Or we can build a bunch of workbenches from woods in varying degrees of wetness and observe the results through several years. This second path is much more difficult than sitting naked in the dark at your computer keyboard – fingers covered in the dust of Cheetos – and pontificating online. But it’s the path I took.”
A painting of our storefront by my daughter Katy (this is before we painted the exterior).
The Lost Art Press storefront in Covington, Ky., will be open April 14 from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. and there will be a lot to do and see that day.
I’ll be furiously dovetailing the six tills for two tool chests for customers. You are welcome to come check out my workmanship and some of the details on these chests, including the casters, tool racks and interior trimmings.
Megan Fitzpatrick and Brendan Gaffney are in the middle of building a run of book boxes for a client that will house the four volumes of “The Woodworker.” These are fun projects you can do in an afternoon yourself.
We have a good selection of blemished books for sale for 50 percent off (cash only on blemished books).
And I believe we’ll have some of Megan’s students in the shop who will be finishing up their silverware trays from the most recent class in the storefront. Plus, we’ll all be on hand to answer questions, demonstrate techniques and generally gab about the craft.
New Food Recommendation The food scene in Covington continues to grow. The newest addition is “Main Street Tavern,” which is about two blocks from our shop. This establishment is located in a building that has been a tavern since 1865 and is still replete with the tin ceiling tiles and wainscot of its past.
But this is not some precious restaurant that is backed by big-name chefs or money. This is my favorite kind of place: A dive bar with incredible local food.
They make their own bologna and goetta. The fried chicken is incredible. The burgers are everything you want from a bar burger. Cheap beer. Nice people. Great prices. Get the bologna sliders (then come bum some statins from me).
We haven’t been there for brunch, but it looks incredible (check them out on Instagram).
So add this to your list of places to eat near us: Otto’s, Frieda’s, Commonwealth, Bouquet, Cock & Bull, Chako, Coppin’s and Lil’s. And a dozen more…..
Few can claim that they’ve made a novel or uncompromising break from the design of their time. Whether we are interpreting, imitating, recasting or reacting to the designs of others (consciously or unconsciously), few designers add truly original elements to their forms.
For many, a search for novel design eventually leads them to “outsider” or “folk” art. While the definition of outsider art is problematic to nail down, it often revolves around a character whose drive to express themselves in a given medium isn’t influenced by or born of trend, opinion or feedback – and some of the best examples come from those who were compelled in an extreme manner by some compulsion, often psychological. This compulsion not only serves to improve the technical abilities of the artist, but accelerate and iterate their creative designs, letting them sprint rather than walk off the beaten path.
Mixing compulsion and a lack of technical ability is not necessarily a non-starter in the visual arts – when building furniture, however, there are certain baselines of ability that must be met for a piece to function as a usable object. Thus, the “outsider” furniture maker must have three things: a certain level of technical skill, the compulsion to make and a mind capable of design leaps and novelty.
Chester at his shop in Dwarf, Ky., with a few banjos and the bookcase rocker.
Chester Cornett, the “Craftsman of the Cumberlands,” had all three, in spades. Having learned traditional Appalachian chairmaking from his grandfather and uncle growing up, his technical skill with the simple hand tools he used was not simply adequate, but expert, even masterful at times. He was extremely compulsive, driven to constantly work at making chairs, making not only countless traditional forms but exploring a wide array of non-traditional forms as well, like rocking chairs with three or four feet, all manner of carving styles and motifs, even various materials like willow, upholstery, hickory bark and an array of different woods. He even made and modified banjos and guitars in his spare time.
This technical practice made him a great chairmaker and earned him a reputation among his fellow chairmakers in southeastern Kentucky. What made him exceptional, novel and unique among them (and what has drawn Chris and I to venture around Indiana, Ohio and Kentucky to see his work) is the coupling of this technical ability and practice with a positively different kind of creative brain. Cornett had a a rough life, to say the least, suffering extreme post-traumatic stress from his time in World War II and discord at home, with chronic illness in his children and marital issues. While this strife certainly caused Cornett significant emotional and psychological hardship, it seems that part and parcel along with it came a mind that was able to make creative leaps in design. Whether it was crossed wires or new connections, there is no denying his ability to come up with novel furniture forms. Add his feverish desire to iterate and his technical skill to his novel designs, and you’ve got a furniture maker worthy of investigation.
Of all the chairs Cornett made, one of the most extreme examples of “out” thinking applied with real technical prowess is what he called his “Two-in-One Bookcase Rocker, Masterpiece of Furniture,” one of a series of two-in-one rockers (each had eight legs and four rockers, or two chairs worth). At the time in 1965, he called it his masterpiece, saying “I never made nothin’ like it in my life. There ain’t nothing in the world like hit. That’s why I call it my masterpiece.”
Cornett made the chair for Michael Owen Jones (a folklorist who studied and wrote a book about Cornett) in place of the traditional seven-slat rocker the author had ordered. Cornett clearly was making a chair he thought befitting the author by including the appropriate book storage – but this chair is not simply a visual portmanteau of bookshelf and chair. While the added storage indicates a certain practicality of design, very little of the rest of the piece’s creative decisions are so straightforward. The maker chose to enclose the entirety of the chair with pinned panels (a total of 17 panels filled the spaces between the 12 posts and six shelves). Perhaps most notably, the top of each of the seven panels that make up the sides and back of the chair is adorned with a spoked half-circle, upon which Cornett carved the inscription “Old, Kentucky Made Buy Chester Cornett’s Hands Engle Mill.” (Cornett was, as Wendell Berry once noted, an “undaunted speller,” and his phonetic spelling of words like “buy” (by) “hit” (it) and “chire” (chair) not only appear in his writings and letters, but are often carved right into his work.)
As if the bigger picture of this chair wasn’t enough, it is absolutely full of details and curiosities far beyond the meaning of such half-circle motifs. The pins used to attach the shelves and affix the tenons in their mortises feature two distinct carving patterns, one faceted and the other fluted. Each octagonal post ends in a beautiful drawknife-carved finial. Each leg is tenoned to the rocker below, but instead of whittling down the leg to a round tenon, Cornett carved the tenon in a rectangular fashion, providing further glue surface and strength.
There are two things I like most about this chair. For one, it’s a chair after my own heart. I’m a “flat worker” (as Tim Manney once chidingly called me, in place of cabinetmaker) and if there’s a chair that aspires to be casework, or the other way around, it’s this one. I’m already dreaming of how floating panels and bent-lam rockers could make their way into the same piece.
The other thing I adore in this piece of furniture is the credibility that is somehow pervasive in what should be a ridiculous piece of work. Cornett was indeed an expert in dealing with wood – having rocked and moved the piece around while examining it, it feels solid and well joined at every point of possible weakness. The pins are carefully carved, the finials are a perfect example of refined handwork, the tenons are carefully staggered to allow for proper joint strength. The form may be humorous but it was made in earnest by skilled hands, and the end result is a chair with significant presence. I’ve taken the measurements, and I’ve got the reference photos – without a doubt, this chair, maybe more aptly called a “chire,” is now on my short list of builds.
Thanks to Ellen Sieber and her staff at the Mathers Museum in Bloomington, Ind., for their time and patience in helping us through the museum’s incredible archives. The museum’s collection of Cornett’s work is astounding and well kept – I look forward already to visiting them again.
I’ve seen a blurry photograph of a detail of Chester Cornett’s chairmaking workbench and read Michael Owen Jones’s description of the bench in “The Craftsman of the Cumberlands.” At the time I thought: That sounds like a Roman-style workbench.
And yesterday I found out that I was correct.
Brendan Gaffney and I visited the storeroom of the Mathers Museum of World Culture in Bloomington, Ind., to view artifacts related to Cornett. And we got more than we bargained for. In addition to some of Cornett’s traditional chairs and rockers, the Mathers also had Cornett’s incredible “bookcase rocker” (more on that from Brendan in a future entry), a chair made by Cornett’s grandfather, Cornett’s worn-down Pexto drawknife, his worn-out dumbhead shavehorse and his workbench.
Located on the top rack in the storeroom, the workbench is a segment of a log with four staked legs. The workholding consists of three pegs that Chester could wedge his work between – exactly as described by M. Hulot in his 18th-century book on turning and chairmaking.
I’m pretty sure that Cornett didn’t read Hulot. So it is an amazing thing to see this low Roman-style workbench made by a 20th century woodworker who lived in the wilds of Eastern Kentucky. Did he come up with the idea for the bench himself? Was it something he learned from his family members who also were chairmakers?
The bench is 11” wide at the top and the benchtop is 10” from the ground. The log segment is 4” thick at its thickest point and about 62” long. The four legs are about 1” to 1-1/4” thick and wide x 8” long (minus their tenons).
So this is just another data point showing that low workbenches, as described in “Ingenious Mechanicks,” haven’t disappeared.
The Playfair Hours, MSL/1918/475 fol 1r, French, 1480s. Copyright the Victoria & Albert Museum.
Medieval homes were sparsely furnished, and each piece usually would have more than one function. One of the intriguing bench styles that can be found in many manuscript images is the bench with a flip-able back rest. The form seems to have become popular in the early part of the 15th century.
The manuscript and the real thing. Top: February from the Hours of Henry VIII, Tours, MS H.8 fol 1v, France, ca. 1500. Morgan Library, New York. Bottom: Bank mit Faltwerk, Gothic, Kunstgewerbesammlungen, Berlin.
To make the bench even more useful, the base could be a storage chest. In manuscripts, the bench is normally seen in front of a fireplace. Warm up facing the fire, and when you were warm enough and it was time to dine, flip the backrest and face the table.
Décaméron de Boccace, MS 5070 réserve fol 314r, 15th c. Bibliothèque de Arsenal, Gallica BnF.
Banc à Tournis The France banc à tournis (or banc-tournis) typically has a thin backrest that turns inside the side panels. Although they are found in manuscripts, I did not find any French versions with the lower storage chest.
16th c. Northern France, probably Normandy, oak. Sotheby’s.
The side panels serve as the legs of the bench and often bear the only decorative element, in this case, linenfold carving.
16th c. Northern France, oak, from Chateau de Cornillon, Loire. Sotheby’s.
The pair above with carved panels on the side are a bit longer and a central support is added.
Here you can get a better look at two versions of the turning arm. The center dowel in the pivot does not pierce the side panel. In the (sharper) photo on the left it is easy to see how the side panel is constructed to include a vertical stop for the turning arm of the backrest.
Saint Barbara, 1438, by Robert Campin, Flemish. Museo del Prado, Madrid.
Flemish artists were notoriously good at fine details. In this painting which is the left side of the Werl Altarpiece, Saint Barbara sits on another French-style banc à tournis. In this case the backrest is an six-sided bar with a metal turning arm and mounted on the outside of the side panel.
Banc à tournis, early 15th century from Tour sans peur, Paris.
The open sides of this bench preclude mounting the turning arm on the inside. Another feature of these benches is a footrest. They can be hard to see in paintings due to the voluminous clothing worn by the bench occupants. The footrest is also one of those pieces that gets broken off – or intentionally taken off – as these benches moved through the centuries.
A comparison of the metal turning arm in the painted version and the real thing.
In the Sotheby’s notes about the two benches from Northern France it gave the 1589 inventory of a banc à tournis owned by Catherine de Medici: ‘un banc à dossier mobile e pouvant faire face à la chiminée ou tourner le dos.’ At the time (2007) this was the last known record of one of these benches.
Styrcsitten The German version of these benches are the strycsitten, identified by the turning mechanism mounted atop the side panel.
As with the French benches, there are variations in the side panels, decorative elements and whether there is a storage chest.
Pilgrimage to Santiago Compostella, part of an altarpiece, 1460 by Friedrich Herlin. Archive Gerstenberg-ullsteinbild.
The pilgrims are sitting on a plain styrcsitten with a narrow backrest and we can definitely see the hinges of the chest.
Two paintings by Gabriel Mälesskircher from Munich. Left: Saint John the Evangelist, 1478, Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid. Right: Mary Magdalene washes Christ’s feet, 1476, German National Museum, Nürnberg.
Based on his painting style, Mälesskircher was probably trained by Flemish masters. He shows us two strycsitten without chests, but with great decorative work on the side panels.
Tirol Landesmuseum, Innsbruck, Austria. Photo from St. Thomas Guild blog.
A plain bench with storage chest. The backrest is wider than what is usually seen in manuscripts and paintings and would likely be more comfortable.
Photo from St. Thomas Guild blog.
This second bench from the 15th century has a beautifully-carved backrest and, as you can see, a storage chest. There are color photos floating around that may or may not be the same bench. I have seen notes that the pictured bench may have been destroyed in WWII.
Mälesskircher’s painting vs. an actual bench (photo from St. Thomas Guild blog).
The turning mechanism of the strycsitten sits on the central point of the side panel. The two outside points serve as the rests. Variations will be the depth of the curves and height of the three points, and carvings or piercings on the side panels.
If you are shopping around for a flip-able bench to make and so far you aren’t wowed by the banc à tournis or strycsitten, let’s go north.
Vändbänken
From Hälsingland/Dalarna, 1800s. Photo Stadsauktion Sundsvall.
The vändbänk is a Swedish bench with some interesting details. No side panels to worry about, as much turning detail as one might want and a very cool turning mechanism.
These benches were painted in the folk tradition and the seat might have an apron. In the bench above you can still see remnants of paint. The apron is carved with a leaf pattern.
And here is how it turns. I don’t know the Swedish term for the turning arm so I am naming it Thor’s Hammer. Many examples have the same staked legs in what looks like the start of a ballet second position demi-plié. These benches have personality and turnings, lots of turnings.
1800s, collection of the Nordiska Museet. Photo by Skansen Digitalt Museum.
Another variation is a fence-like apron attached to one side.
When the backrest is turned to the other side the apron is left behind. Here you also get an idea of the heft of the burly turning arm.
Kalmer läns museum.
This bench appears to be older than the previous two and is from Norra Bäckbo. In the local dialect it is known as a rall. No turnings but a nicely figured backrest.
Dated 1680 from Junkboda Bygdea. Collection of Nordiska museet.
In the Junkboda Bygdea dialect this bench is a brudsärla and has a heavier build. The legs extend above the level of the seat and act as the stops for the backrest. The backrest is more solid than previous examples and has wonderful quatrefoil piercings while the apron has simple beading. The turning mechanism is the same but without any apparent decoration.
Two more non-Swedish benches with a similar turning arm are from Hungary and Russia.
Dated late 19th century.
The Hungarian bench variation has staked stick legs instead of the more substantial Swedish bench legs. The seat is also less substantial but has a nice frilly apron. The backrest has deeply carved and pierced panels. This may have had some repainting, however, it still gives us a good idea of the folk painting found in Eastern Europe.
This beefy Russian bench almost looks like a church pew, except for the legs. The back rest has a carved and pierced design that can also be found in textiles.
The bench shows another variation of how to turn the backrest.
With some similarity to the German styrcsitten the backrest turns atop the side panel and together they give a solid side to the bench end.
The St. Thomas Guild has been exploring the strycsitten for several years and they have a ton of photos of the benches (and other furniture) they have found. You can take a trip over to their blog here. If you get lost they have an alphabetic directory that will help you get redirected on their blog.
As with many folk crafts this bench is disappearing. Whatever your preference in style or decoration I urge you to consider making one of these versatile benches.
There are a few more examples of these flip-able benches in the gallery.
— Suzanne Ellison
16th century, Dutch.
16th (?) century, French. Linenfold side panels, noted central supports.
French, 15th century from Chateau de Martainville, Normandy.
Swedish, 1700s (?), from Kalmer läns museum.
Swedish, the other side.
Swedish, 1700s. Photo by Berit Bryntse.
Hungarian. Note similar backrest decoration as the Swedish bench.
Another Hungarian. Shapely turning arm. Did this backrest come from another bench?
Circa 1500, oak chair version of strycsitten with chest. Rijksmuseum.
