Despite my natural hermit tendencies, we’ve decided to again open the Lost Art Press storefront on the second Saturday of each month. Hours are 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.
In addition to carrying our complete line of books and tools from Crucible, we also sell blemished books for 50 percent off (cash only on those) and special T-shirts and posters that are available only at the storefront.
The storefront is located at 837 Willard St. in Covington, Ky.
Jan. 14
Feb. 11
March 11 (in conjunction with a Lie-Nielsen Hand Tool Event)
April 8
May 13
June 10
July 8
Aug. 12
Sept. 9
Oct. 14
Nov. 11
Dec. 9
Since we bought the building in 2015, Covington has blossomed with new restaurants and developments that we are pleased to be part of. You can now stay in the beautiful Hotel Covington (a seven-minute walk from our storefront), get a drink at Braxton Brewing or one of the dozen other new watering holes. And there are new restaurants too numerous to mention.
Oh, and you can walk across the Roebling Suspension Bridge and there’s this other place, Cincinnati, to visit.
Work on the storefront has been proceeding at a good clip. By January we should have the basement all concreted and climate-controlled for wood storage (my first ever place to store wood!). I’ve been working at the back of the ground floor all month, eliminating the last of the purple glitter from the Blaze bar.
And, most exciting, we’ve upgraded the urinal with new plumbing.
This account celebrates Studley’s accomplishments and leaves no doubt as to the stature he – and his tool cabinet – held in the world of piano craftsmen. (Image courtesy of Arthur Rebletz)
Unfortunately we have no record of exactly what Studley did at any point of his employment with Smith. However, the later portrait of Studley as a piano’s action builder does allow us to propose that he had a similar role at Smith.
In his 60th year, Studley left Smith American Organ Company to work for the recently formed Poole Piano Company. The reasons, motivation and terms of that change are unknown, but the reference in The Music Trade Review of Dec. 17, 1921, to Studley’s having been hired by Poole Piano to be in charge of its “voicing” (or action) department surely means he was well-accomplished and respected for the tasks and responsibilities incumbent to the new position. Part of the larger economic reality of the organ and piano trades at that time was the falling popularity of organs and the growing role of pianos in the American home.
The decorative details of the organs built during the early part of Studley’s career, such as this illustration from a Smith American Piano and Organ catalog (roughly coincident with his tenure there), no doubt served as inspiration for many of the decorative details in the tool cabinet. (Winterthur Library)
The 1899 illustrated catalog from the Poole Company, roughly contemporary to Studley joining the firm, emphasized its grand and upright pianos and is instructive, even given the florid prose of Victorian marketing. Three brief passages in particular caught my eye. “We make no pretensions as manufacturers of cheap instruments. Considering the fact that we use only first-class material and employ only the most skilled workmen…”
And, “[finish] may apply either to the workmanship of the action and other interior details, where it cannot readily be seen and appreciated, or to the exterior appearance. Straws indeed show the direction of the wind, and the nicety of adjustments and carefulness with which every detail of our instruments is worked out, although such things may be regarded as unimportant, certainly show the character of the final work.”
Finally, “Tone. It will be admitted that this is a much-talked-of and much mystified subject. The general public can get little knowledge of it by reading over the worn-out adjectives usually employed in piano catalogs.
“If, however, we may attribute any special quality of excellence to the characteristic of the Poole Piano, we would say that the almost freedom of vibration is insured by the well-drawn scales employed, and the nicety with which every detail is worked out.”
Though this aesthetic is decidedly over the top for our sensibilities, it is the atmosphere in which Studley perfected his skills and achieved renown. (Winterthur Library)
Of course there is no way to know how much of this is bloviation and how much is an honest statement of mission and purpose, but at least rhetorically Poole is throwing down a marker. The advertising copy is saying all the right things to describe an atmosphere that allowed Henry Studley to express that excellence in his work ensemble.
To the extent that there is any historical record of him in either the organ or piano trades, it refers to him as a prominent and respected craftsman. The indication of Studley’s stature in the Boston piano manufacturing world can be seen in an article in the periodical The Music Trade Review during the final year of his career, celebrating his 46 years in the trade. Simple arithmetic allows us to affix approximate working dates for him as 1873-1898 for Smith American, and 1898-1919 for Poole Piano. The breadth of tools in the cabinet, combined with the photographic portrait, leads us to the fully defensible conclusion that Studley was at various times both a case builder for Smith and a builder of piano actions for Poole.
In the only known image of him, Studley is seen as an 80-year-old man standing formally at a workbench, his famous tool cabinet hanging on the wall behind him. Dressed in the peculiar (to us) attire of a dress shirt and necktie that was typical for skilled tradesmen of the era, he is shown with a felt cutter in hand and an open upright piano nearby. Thus we are left with the distinct impression that he was not merely running the action department, he was still actively engaged in the trade himself.
He runs the largest woodworking school in the world, has seen work from the best living woodworkers and is an astonishing craftsman in his own right. And yet, last year I sat next to Marc and he was transfixed, spellbound and speechless because of the work of Jögge Sundqvist.
Jögge and his work are difficult to describe without slipping into the fantastical. He makes all manner of objects that we would classify as “green” woodworking – chairs, knives, bowls and other hand-carved objects. Yet their execution and their bright colors defy that simple categorization.
For me, the best word is that Jögge’s work is magical.
While I’ve known of Jögge for many years (he is woodworking royalty), I first met him at the Marc Adams School of Woodworking. He was teaching his first class there. I was teaching my last.
During one evening at the school, he gave an extended presentation of his work, and I was hooked.
During the last 12 months, John and I have worked our butts off to secure the rights to his book “Sloyd in Wood” and get it translated into English. I am happy to announce that all the contracts have been signed, the people have been paid and the translation is underway. Our hope it to have the book published by the end of 2017.
“Sloyd in Wood” is an introduction to the way Jögge sees the work, the way he works and the details that permeate the things he creates. Yes, it’s a book on carving spoons, but it is more a book that looks at the tree and sees the spoons inside.
The book is 100-percent gorgeous with beautiful photos and illustrations. Of course, we will meet or exceed the production quality of the original with our translation.
If you’d like a peek at more of Jögge’s work, visit his website or follow him on Instagram.
While picking up some work from Steamwhistle Letterpress, the owner, Brian Stuparyk, said he had a workbench to show me.
Brian’s letterpress shop is where all manner of interesting mechanisms end up, including printing presses, woodworking machines and machinist tools. Recently he received a load of woodworking equipment, much of it barely used.
One of the gems was a vintage Danish Levard workbench that looks like it had never been used. Brian said he found only one small sawcut and a single blotch of glue.
It’s the first time I ever had time to examine a Levard in detail. While being extremely well made (details to follow), I was surprised how lightweight it was. I know I’m biased toward massive French benches, but this seemed like a delicate flower.
So now for the good stuff. First take a look at the jaws for the end vise. The top corners of the benchtop and jaw are inlaid with boxwood, like a moulding plane. It’s an interesting detail. That area of a vise can see significant abuse, but I’d never considered adding boxwood to the jaws.
Also interesting: the underside of the benchtop. Like many European workbenches, the core of the benchtop is fairly thin and banded by thicker pieces. This saves on wood, but it reduces the bench’s overall weight and makes clamping things to the benchtop an occasional pain.
What really interested me was the way they had made the thick dog blocks that were glued to the thin core. To save material, the dogs are fully enclosed on only one side. I can’t think of any disadvantage to their approach.
The vise screws were all well-machined and moved smoothly, like someone cared. Also nice: The steel dogs (actually they were more puppy-sized), were well-made with nicely chamfered corners.
All in all the craftsmanship was excellent. I just think it could use a lot more mass.
This chest is a close reproduction of a traditional joiner’s tool chest. Chris designed the chest and constructed the box portion during a course he taught with us several years ago. I (Jim Tolpin) finished it by building the lid and sliding till and applying the traditional milk paint. The hand grips (traditional sailor’s beckets of rope and leather) were made and donated by Keith Mitchell – a boatbuilder currently in Vermont. (You can follow Keith on his instagram feed @shipwrightskills). The chest is signed by Chris and me on the underside of the lid.
The box and lid are made from clear poplar boards. The box, the wrap-around skirt boards and the till’s corner joints are dovetailed and glued with hide glue. The bottom boards are set into rabbets and nailed in place with traditional cut nails. The lid’s frame is mortise and tenon, drawbore pinned with hewn, air-dried white oak. Chris and I did the work with hand tools beyond the initial surfacing of the stock to dimension. Dimensions are 20″ wide by 16″ high by 40″ long.
About the finish: Traditionally, these tool chests were always painted to protect the wood from moisture because they might occasionally be exposed to outside conditions. I went with three coats of black followed by two coats of red to create an “oxblood” hue. As you probably know, milk paint is one of the most durable paints available. I applied several coats of linseed/tung oil to build a sheen and to provide additional protection.
All the proceeds of this sale will go to the Port Townsend School of Woodworking youth-in-woodworking scholarship fund. A portion of the cost of this chest is tax deductible as the school is a 501 (C) (3) non-profit educational institution. To purchase, go to the auction site here on ebay.
