The new video includes another trick with a washer.
I’ve just uploaded a six-minute video for those who purchased the “Make a Gibson Chair Video.” The new video shows two tricks I came up with that make the chair easier to build and a little stronger. I also show how to scribe the shoulders of the legs’ tenons to the seat for a clean look.
If you purchased this video, you should have received a notification of the update via email. If you didn’t, first check your spam/junk folder. You also can log into your account with Lost Art Press and see all your video content there. The new video should be at the bottom.
Like all our videos, you can watch them streaming through our site, or you can download them to any device. We have no Digital Rights Management (DRM) junk on the video files.
One of the tricks – my favorite – uses a 1” washer and makes fitting the back sticks a heck of a lot easier. Also, I’m crushing your head.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. The Gibson chair video has an introductory price of $50 until June 19. After that, the price will be $75.
Glen Alsworth’s fish knife with scaler on the back side. Dick made the sheath from moose leg skin with short hair. (Photo courtesy of the National Park Service)
Millions of PBS viewers first met Dick Proenneke through the program “Alone in the Wilderness,” which documents Dick’s 30-year adventure in the Alaskan wilderness. On the shores of Twin Lakes, Dick built his cabin and nearly all of the household objects he required to survive, from the ingenious wooden hinges on his front door to the metal ice creepers he strapped to his boots.
And now, “The Handcrafted Life of Dick Proenneke” examines this adventure through the lens of Dick’s tools and the objects he made. Written by Monroe Robinson – the caretaker of Dick’s cabin and his personal effects – the book weaves together vintage photos and entries from Dick’s journals plus new drawings and images to paint a portrait of a man fully engaged in life and the natural world around him.
Dick Proenneke lived isolated in miles, but not in spirit. Many visitors came as friends. Others visited and became friends. Dick paid attention to people both when he was with you and through correspondence. If you wrote Dick, he wrote you back. It is hard to imagine an individual who chose to live as remotely as Dick while also nourishing relationships as he did.
Dick’s handcrafted gifts of bowls, spoons and knives can not be separated from his relationship with family, friends and community. His journaling and letter writing fits comfortably alongside his handcrafted gifts. Imagine having dozens of letters to mail through a post office many air miles away, not have any postage stamps and not knowing when someone would fly in with mail and be willing to take outgoing mail.
Far more people sent Dick provisions and gifts than this chapter touches upon. Here are just a few people who touched Dick’s life, and whose lives were touched in return.
July 7, 1968: On up to Lofstedt’s cabin to return a couple magazines borrowed last winter and to search for a good ladder pole. The mission at Nondalton needs a ladder. Babe liked the one I built for my cache and said he would fly one out for the mission if I would build it. It shall be done. The mission girls gone home state side for a year. I hope Babe doesn’t forget who the ladder belongs to before they come back.
July 31, 1968: I had been thinking that I could use a big wooden spoon to spoon my hotcake batter on to the griddle – one spoon full one hotcake. I had looked through my scraps of stump wood and found a couple pieces that looked suitable. I doubt if it took more than an hour to turn out a good looking spoon. I have more wood and I could use a wooden bowl or two.
August 14, 1968: This morning on my way to the cabin for lunch I searched for a spruce tree with a burl. I had seen one in the back forty. I found a big dead tree with one but it isn’t too good. I would cut it off and make a wooden bowl.
August 24, 1968: I have been thinking of trying to turn out a wooden bowl from stump wood. I hollowed it out easy enough but cut it too thin on the outside and broke a chunk out so made kindling of it.
November 22, 1968: I sawed and split some wood and made myself a real nice candleholder from a spruce burl.
Spruce burl bowl and spoons made by Dick, 1972. (Photo by Dick Proenneke, courtesy of the National Park Service)
February 12, 1969: Overcast, a strong breeze down the lake and a +25°. I was really surprised after it being a -26°. Just like spring – I would take advantage of it and carve out a big wooden spoon for Mary Alsworth in exchange for the heavy boot sox. I dug out a good looking stump from the deep snow and went to work. She ordered a spoon with lots of curve to it so that is the way it would be. Nice to be working wood again and not uncomfortable with the temp. a weak 30°. The camp robbers kept me company and one sang a solo. I haven’t heard one sing but a few times but this one sat in a tree near where I worked at my bench and sang for nearly five minutes – he was really happy with the change in temperature.
February 13, 1969: A little squirrel came by as I worked at the woodshed and I watched to see if he acted familiar. He didn’t make the usual circuit checking the stump and butcher block for bones so he is a stranger. With the snow settled he was able to get over the top in fair shape. A wood scrap from the spoon just about right to make a fork so I marked one out and went to work. Under the shed roof at the saw buck – I heard a gentle warbling. There just across from me perched on a tree branch was my little friend, his throat working and a song that could be easily heard. I waited until he was through then cut some meat scraps and put them on the chopping block not three feet from me. Now we had the magpies outsmarted. He would take the meat to the brushy lower branches and eat it there. Nothing but friendly when he is alone but if the other jays are there he hangs back and you would never know him from the others.
The fork completed and it looks pretty good. Still time to saw and split a few blocks.
April 5, 1969: A wooden spoon marked out (makes 10 I have made) so while tending my cooking I sawed it out, scooped out the bowl – trimmed the outside and rasp it to shape. Sand it smooth – if only I was better fixed for good coarse sandpaper.
April 13, 1969: I roughed out a bowl from a spruce burl using wood auger and gouge chisel.
April 20, 1969: A good time to try Jakes coarse emery cloth – finish the spoon I had in the making. Sand a big spruce burl tabletop and work on the bowl that I had roughed out. Inside curves are hard on emery cloth. Seems no time and it is like a rag with no abrasive on it. I rounded the end of a stick of 2 in. spruce from my woodpile. Took my bowl up to the point and dry fine sand, a hand full of sand and much elbow grease to rotate the stick did a fair job. Much like a poor mans sand blaster.
April 25, 1969: Time to sand the inside of my spruce burl bowl. A gift to Mary Alsworth when I get it finished. Payment for all the extra good things to eat that she has sent and for the good mail service. I moved out under the overhang to sand and keep an eye on the lake in case some wild animal might venture out on it.
A mallet Dick made from a very hard spruce limb. (Photo by Monroe Robinson)
June 7, 1969: The first cut of the big burl – what to make of it. Hollow it out and make a super bowl or planter. I went to work with the 11⁄2 inch auger. Ninety-one holes to get it ready to hollow out with axe and chisel. June 9, 1969:
Today I would work on my big spruce burl bowl. A lot of work and I was filling a box with chips. Gouging away and the chisel went over the edge and sliced across the knee of my new Frisco jeans. Only a cut an inch long but exactly where they take the most wear. Lucky that I didn’t cut my knee. As it was I was only scratched. By noon still not done but getting down to the proper thickness. Enough of that exercise for today.
July 8, 1969: A small burl standing by. I would see if I could turn out a bowl while it rained…This one would be a mini bowl – only 4 in. x 5 and 15/8 in. deep. Considerable work goes into hollowing out a burl and sanding it smooth.
July 23, 1969: About a week ago while traveling down country high in the timber and brush below Gold mountain I came across a down tree – dead and with a good burl on the side. A thick one that would make a good bowl about 12 inches or more in diameter and maybe five inches deep. I half surveyed the location so I might find it again.
June 24, 1971 I worked on outgoing mail nearly all morning. Film to pack and letters to write. One full bottle of Sheaffers Skrip ink used since May 16.
May 28, 1972: I was looking for a spruce burl to make a bowl about six or eight inches across. It would have to come from a dead tree and still be sound.
Cleaned ink bottles lining Dick’s outhouse wall. (Photo by Monroe Robinson)
May 29, 1972: Some time to kill till lunch so I gouged out the burl. Not finished by any means but the rough work three fourths done.
June 4, 1972: Today I would stay home. The bowl and spoons to finish. More sanding and then three coats of Humicure (plastic finish) at two-hour intervals. Write letters and do other odd jobs in between coats.
June 9, 1972: If I could find a suitable burl I would make another bowl. I wandered about, thinking I might see a spruce grouse. I haven’t seen one for several days now. A burl on a dead tree but it wasn’t much. I marked the spot by lining up east Cowgill peak and the caribou lying on the bench. I found another not far from Spike’s cabin but on a green tree.
I am putting up two Irish Gibson chairs for sale via two random drawings. The chairs are a little different and each has a different price.
Both chairs are black cherry and finished with soft wax (a non-toxic, easily repairable finish). And both are assembled with hide glue, so the joints are reversible should they ever need repairs. The backs of both chairs lean at 25° and are identical in comfort. The arms of both chairs are heavily shaped by hand, which is different than my usual Gibson. Here is how they are different.
The Saddled Gibson
This chair is the one I built for the video we released last week. The seat has a shallow saddle, and the seat is 15-1/2” from the floor.
As I was assembling one arm, I cracked off a piece thanks to a bad hammer whack. The piece glued back on just fine. There are no structural problems with the arm, and I expect the fix will be permanent. But there is a small cosmetic scar visible on the inside of the arm. Because of this cosmetic flaw, the price of the saddled chair is $1,100 plus shipping.
The Unsaddled Gibson
I finished up this chair today, which is why its finish looks a bit brash in the photos. The color will mellow in a couple days. The seat is unsaddled – honestly, the shallow saddle doesn’t improve things as far as I can tell. So I decided to leave this one flat, which is how the chairs were historically made.
The seat is 15-1/4” off the floor – a tad lower than the other chair. The other difference is that I glued cross-grain blocks under the arms to strengthen them during assembly (I will be covering this in a video next week). This chair is $1,400 plus shipping.
How to Buy a Chair
These chairs are being sold individually via two random drawings. (I’m sorry but the chairs cannot be shipped outside the U.S.) If you wish to buy a chair, send an email to lapdrawing@lostartpress.com before 3 p.m. (Eastern) on Tuesday, May 30. In the email please use the subject line “Saddled Chair” or “Unsaddled Chair” depending on which one you want. And include your:
First name and last name
U.S. shipping address
Daytime phone number (this is for the trucking quote only)
Yes, you can enter both drawings, but you must send two emails – one with each requisite subject line. And only one email per each drawing please; duplicates will annoy Fitz, and be deleted.
Shipping options: The winner of each chair is welcome to pick up theirs here in Covington, Ky., and also get a free pencil (woo hoo). I am happy to deliver each chair personally for free within 100 miles of Cincinnati, Ohio. Or we can ship it to you via LTL. The cost varies (especially these days), but it is usually between $200 and $500.
We’ve just added a new chapter – “Sharpen Spade Bits & Augers” to the “Sharpen This” video, and sent notification to past subscribers that’s it’s available.
Updates thus far include how to sharpen scorps, marking knives, the No. 49 plane and bench knives, and now spade bits and augers. We periodically add more updates when I’ve sufficiently nagged Chris enough on a given topic. (We plan to cover Spokeshaves, Gunstock Scrapers and Chair Devils, Dividers, Awls and planing stops in upcoming videos – among other tools directly related to our work.)
In the original video and the updates, Christopher Schwarz does his best to cut through the BS and show you how to quickly and effectively sharpen your tools so you can get back to the fun part: making them dull.
Those who have already bought the video get all the updates; those who buy it now and in the future will get everything available at the time of purchase, as well as all new “Sharpen This: The Video” content.
The following is excerpted from “Campaign Furniture,” by Christopher Schwarz.
For almost 200 years, simple and sturdy pieces of campaign furniture were used by people all over the globe, yet this remarkable furniture style is now almost unknown to most woodworkers and furniture designers.
“Campaign Furniture” seeks to restore this style to its proper place by introducing woodworkers to the simple lines, robust joinery and ingenious hardware that characterize campaign pieces. With more than 400 photos and drawings to explain the foundations of the style, the book provides plans for nine pieces of classic campaign furniture, from the classic stackable chests of drawers to folding Roorkee chairs and collapsible bookcases.
Folding clamshell bookcases weren’t just for officers or bureaucrats of the British Empire. These tough pieces of cabinetwork were ideal for students or any bibliophile who had to be mobile.
Built like a chest or trunk, these bookcases were typically dovetailed at the corners for maximum strength. The interiors varied. They all had shelves – of course. Sometimes the shelves were adjustable; sometimes they were fixed. You might find cubbyholes or drawers near the base of the chest.
And sometimes each side of the bookcase was further protected by a hinged door that was solid wood, glass or a metal mesh. All of the examples I’ve encountered were secured with a chest lock or a hasp. The bookcases also wore brass or iron corner guards to protect the books if the piece took a serious hit.
The example I’ve built for this book is pretty simple. It’s made from quartersawn oak and is dovetailed at the corners with half-blind dovetails. Each half of the clamshell case features two adjustable shelves that are suited to hold smaller books. At the base of the carcase are four dovetailed drawers that are fronted by flush drawer pulls.
The backs of the carcase are panels that float in grooves in the carcase pieces. In this piece, I’ve covered the interior with an embossed wallpaper. Then I painted and shellacked the paper to make it look vintage. The exterior is finished with garnet shellac.
Build the Carcase The carcase of this bookcase is somewhat like a dovetailed drawer. All the corners are joined by half-blind dovetails. The backs float in grooves in the dovetailed shells. Begin construction by dovetailing the tops and bottoms to the sides of the carcase.
To match many bookcases of the period, I cut the tails on the tops and bottoms of the carcases. The pins are on the sides. Because these bookcases normally sit on top of another piece (such as a campaign chest), the orientation of the pins and tails isn’t much of an issue.
After cutting the tails and pins, plow the 1/4″ x 1/4″ grooves for the carcase backs. The grooves are 1/4″ from the outside edge of the carcase. Then lay out the locations of the 1/2″-wide x 1/4″-deep dados for the shelves. I gang the carcase parts together to make the layout (relatively) foolproof.
Fig. 11.2 Don’t measure. Strike one wall of each dado for the shelves. Then use the shelf material to strike the other line of the dado. This ensures a good fit.
Fig. 11.3 Saw the walls. Place your thumb in the groove to stop your saw as you saw each wall of the dado.
Saw out the walls of the dados, then chop up the waste with a 1/2″-wide chisel. Plow the waste out with the chisel. Try working both bevel-up and bevel-down. The bevel-up orientation will remove waste in a hurry – perhaps to the point where you will go below your desired depth. Chiseling bevel-down is slower, but you don’t take as big a bite. I usually remove most of the waste with the chisel bevel-up, then I finish up with it bevel-down.
Fig. 11.4 (left) Choppy. Break up the waste between the dado walls with a chisel that is the same width as the dado. Fig. 11.5 (right) Plow the waste. Remove most of the waste with a chisel. Work bevel-up to remove material quickly; work bevel-down to add some control.
After you have the bottom of your dado roughed out, clean it up to a consistent depth with a router plane. You also can use the side of the router plane’s iron to scrape the vertical walls of the dado, fairing and squaring them.
Fig. 11.6 Plunge forward. The router plane isn’t suited to take a big bite. The waste jams up against the post of the iron too easily. Use the router to remove the smallest amount of waste from the bottom of the dado.
With the dados cut, knock the carcases together and measure the final dimensions of the back pieces. Cut the back panels to size, then rabbet all four edges so the panel floats in the grooves. Be sure to leave some space for expansion of the back. I used quartersawn oak, which doesn’t move much, so I allowed for only 1/8″ of movement in each panel.
Fig. 11.7 About that much. I don’t cut my panels to size until I have the carcases dry-fit. This (usually) prevents me from making a stupid error.
Gluing up the carcases is an odd job. You want to glue each carcase so its joints are tight. But you also want to glue up each carcase so it is the same shape as its mate. Otherwise, you will end up (I promise) with two carcases that are different shapes.
So apply glue, then clamp up each carcase independently. Place the two assemblies on top of one another and clamp them together along the seam. Once those clamps are on, check the uber-assembly for squareness. After the glue is dry, plane up the carcases individually. Then clamp them together and fair the seam between the two shells.
Fig. 11.8 Rabbet that. Cut the rabbets on the back panels. Cut the rabbets across the grain first. Then follow that with the rabbets that run parallel to the grain.
Fig. 11.9 Glue the two. You want these carcases to mate. So glue them up in tandem. Clamp the tops, bottoms and sides. But also clamp the carcases together so their edges align.
Fig. 11.10 On a platform. A leg vise and a platform (made from scrap) is a powerful setup for planing the joints of your carcases.
Install the Lock This is an excellent time to install the hinges and lock. While most woodworkers have installed butt hinges, many have not installed a chest lock. They are actually simple to install if you take the process one step at a time and don’t measure too much.
Fig. 11.11 (left) One hole. A scant hole in the carcase guides the installation of the chest lock. Fig. 11.12 (right) The bulk of the waste. Sawcuts help break up the waste. Chop parallel to the grain lines with a chisel to remove most of the waste.
The key to installing a chest lock is to drill a hole where the pin will go. The pin is the most important part of the lock. The key is inserted onto the pin then rotates on it to unlock the bookcase. So all the layout is determined from the pin.
Fig. 11.13 (left) Use the hole. The hole you bored for the pin also guides the installation of the escutcheon. Trace around the escutcheon with a fine pencil. Fig. 11.14 (right) Saw out the waste. Saw the walls of the hole for the escutcheon, then chisel out any waste.
Measure (shudder) from the top of the lock to the center of the pin. Transfer that measurement to the carcase and make a dimple with an awl. You want to drill at this location a hole through the carcase that is slightly smaller than the diameter of the pin itself (1/64″ or 1/32″ undersized is about right).
Then, from the inside of the carcase, press the lock into the hole. It should stick there.
Fig. 11.15 The final recess. Press the lock back into place and trace around its exterior plate. Chop out the waste.
With the lock pressed into the hole you can trace around its inside case with a thick (or blunt) pencil. This pencil line represents the next recess you should saw and chop out. Then you can install the press-in escutcheon on the outside of the carcase.
Interior Structures These bookcases can be divided up in a variety of ways. This one has two drawers at the bottom of each case. When I started on this case, my plan was to have only one shelf on each side. After assembling the carcase, I decided to add a couple more shelves and make them adjustable. This was an easy matter of sawing some more dados in the carcase walls.
At this point I also had to saw the 1/2″ x 1/8″ dados for the dividers between the drawers in each carcase. This was a simple matter of sawing, chiseling and routing the waste. You can then glue these pieces into the carcase.
Fig. 11.16 Line up the dados. I cut the dados for the drawer dividers after assembly. Using a square, I lined up the walls of the dados and marked out what needed to be cut away.
Then I turned my attention to the drawers. Despite my best efforts, the holes for the drawers were all slightly different. So I fit individually the drawer parts for each drawer opening. When I do this sort of work, I fit the drawer front so it will just sneak into its opening all around. I cut the drawer back to that same length.
I fit the drawer sides so they slide in and out of the carcase like I want the finished drawer to slide. I wait to cut the drawer bottom until the drawer is assembled.
The drawers I make are typical for the 18th and 19th centuries. The sides join the drawer back with through-dovetails. The sides join the drawer front with half-blind (the British call them “lap”) dovetails. The bottom slides into the assembled drawer in a groove plowed into the sides and drawer front.
Fig. 11.17 Parts in place. Fit your drawer parts so they match the dimensions of the drawer opening. If the individual parts fit too tight, the drawer will surely stick.
Once the joints are cut, glue up the drawers. Make sure the drawers are dead square – you can pull them into square with a tight and well-fit drawer bottom if necessary.
Once your drawers are assembled, clean up the joints with a plane and fit each drawer into its opening. The tighter the fit, the less likely the drawer will bind when you pull it out.
Fig. 11.18 Drilled out. I usually remove most of the waste with a drill – in this case a Forstner bit. All this ugliness will be hidden behind the pull’s backplate.
Then add the pulls. I used some vintage pulls that were made in the mid-20th century, which are surprisingly similar to ones made today. Just as when you installed the lock, installing the pulls is a multi-stage process. First you waste away the deepest and smallest recess for the pull. Then you fit the pull into that hole and trace around the backplate. Then mortise out the area for the backplate and you can screw the pull in place.
Fig. 11.19 Traced & chopped. After fitting the pull into the first recess, press it down and trace around the backplate. Then you can chop out that waste.
Don’t be afraid to file parts of the pull to make it fit or function.
Finish the Interior Some of these bookcases were lined with felt, cloth or some sort of wallpaper. To give this bookcase a Victorian look, I lined the interior with an embossed wallpaper. Then I painted the wallpaper and coated it with shellac (like the rest of the carcase).
Adding wallpaper is easy. Cut the paper so it fits the opening (or is slightly bigger that the space required). Roll some wallpaper paste on the back of the wallpaper. Fold the pasted surfaces on themselves, closing them like a book. Wait 10 minutes.
Fig. 11.20 Easy wallpapering. If you’ve ever hung wallpaper, you’ll be amazed how easy it is to do on a horizontal surface. It doesn’t sag.
Then you can unfold the wallpaper and apply it to the wood. Use a wallpaper brush to press the paper to the wood. Don’t use a squeegee tool if you are using embossed wallpaper – it will destroy the pattern.
If your paper is oversized, trim it into the corner with a utility knife. Then turn your attention to the next piece of wallpaper. Let the paste dry for 24 hours before trimming the bits that cover the dados.
Fig. 11.21 Paste then trim. Use one piece of paper on the sides of the carcase. After the paste has dried 24 hours, use a knife to slice away the paper covering the dados.
Paint the wallpaper if you like; I used a green milk paint I had on hand. With embossed wallpaper you can create a nice two-tone effect with little effort. Brush on a coat of paint. Wait about five minutes for the paint to set up a bit. Then gently wipe the paper with a sponge. The sponge will remove the paint from the high spots.
You can use contrasting colors to paint the high spots and low spots. But remember: Books will cover the wallpaper most of the time. So don’t go too crazy.
Fig. 11.22 A little dab. After the paint flashes, gently wipe the high spots with a sponge to brush away part of the paint.
After the paint dries, finish the entire case. I wanted the outside to look a bit aged, though not distressed. So I finished the entire case, inside and out, with two coats of garnet shellac. Then I wiped a black wax on to the exterior surfaces of the carcase. After the wax flashed, I wiped off the excess, leaving the black in the pores.
Then I coated the entire piece, inside and out, with one coat of a dull lacquer to cut back some of the shine from the shellac.
The final step was to add some corner hardware. As an experiment, I used applied corner guards that are secured with escutcheon pins. They don’t look as nice as inset corner guards, but they are better than nothing.
