Gibsons are quite unlike the other stick chairs Chris makes. And he has devised novel ways to use cheap lasers to make your life easier when building them (meaning you don’t have to build a lot of complicated jigs).
Chris and I spent a lot of May 2023 filming the process, condensing it into a video that:
Will not waste your time. Chris dislikes prattling on and on in a video (and in life). He tried to make this video 100 percent meat – no gristle.
Will show you how to build the chair and avoid common pitfalls. He has made a lot of mistakes while figuring out the Gibson. He is happy to show you his scars and detours.
Is somewhat enjoyable to watch. In our video there are cats, self-deprecating jokes, the breaking of the fourth wall and other small amusements that will, we hope, keep you awake.
Has the information you need. The video comes with all the patterns (hand-drawn by Chris) and cutting lists and sources so you will get up to speed quickly.
This chair is a good first chair. Yes, it’s a bit angular. But you can do it. You just have to commit.
This 3-hour video includes all the videos and all the drawings and patterns. All free of DRM (Digital Rights Management) so you can put the video on your laptop, iPad, phone and desktop with no restrictions.
You can read more about it here and order it if you like. After June 18, the price will be $75 forever.
Years ago I attended the Southern Highlands Craft Show in Asheville, North Carolina, and bought a goose carved by an older woman. She had two geese, but I could only afford one. The goose was in the charging position: head down and neck extended. It was the start of my appreciation for carved animals. Unfortunately, a couple years later the beak was chewed up by a long-haired black cat with a bum leg and an attitude (side note: this cat also enjoyed being vacuumed using the upholstery attachment). The damaged goose was packed away to limit further damage, and the cat with the bum leg moved with me seven times in three states, outlived two younger cats and died when she was 18. I did not acquire another wooden bird until well after she was gone.
Now, I have a small collection of wooden birds and will share some of them with you. I have also included some historical examples of practical items shaped like birds. We’ll start with a few from southeast Pennsylvania, a well-known region of talented folk artists.
A crow or raven. Carved by Dan Strawser in 1974, southeastern Pennsylvania. 9-1/2 inches long, 5-1/2 inches high.
Dan Strawser has been carving since the 1970s, and his wife, Donna,paints the birds. I’ve seen other birds by Strawser with wings carved in a similar manner. It looks as though the bird is seconds away from lifting off. Strawser did not sand the surface, allowing the surface carving to stand out and give the bird dimension. The bird and rounded base are painted a uniform black with only a small dot of white on each eye. Sometimes there is an urge to paint a base a contrasting color or pattern. For this bird I think a different color would detract from the overall image.
“Three little birds pitch by my door step…” Three small birds by Alvin G. Martin, 1989, Mennonite carver, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. 8 inches long, 5-1/4 inches high.
These may be house sparrows or song sparrows or some other birds entirely. Either way, I was attracted to the composition and the painting. Each branch with bird is one piece of wood with saw marks still visible. The body positions of the birds capture the quick movements of their real-life counterparts. Martin’s patterning and use of color on the birds and branches is nicely done, and the solid dark green base complements and anchors the composition.
One of the challenges in carving birds is what to do with the legs and feet. Alvin Martin painted the birds in a natural position with legs bent under the body and only the painted feet shown perching on the branches.
A bluebird by Ben Hoover, active in the 1970s and 1980s, Mennonite, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.
This little bird hangs from a ceiling fan light pull in a room where my mother spends much of her time. Bluebirds are her favorite. As you can see, the paint work is wonderful. Bluebirds are frequent visitors to our yard. One spring I watched a male bluebird trying to show two perplexed youngsters how to take a bath.
As much as I value the work of the carvers of southeastern Pennsylvania, both their observations of the natural world and their creative efforts to craft birds and other animals, I also appreciate a different approach.
A swan made of two pieces of black walnut by Chicago-based artist and designer Peter Dunham. Approximately 6 inches wide, 5 inches high.
Peter Dunham has designed a variety of animals, with most comprised of two to four pieces. The appeal to me is stripping the figure of an animal to its defining elements, in this case, the long curving neck and the large and wide-flung wings.
Putting Birds to Work
Domesticated birds have often inspired craftspeople to make bird-shaped boxes for use in the home. There are many examples of this idea in the “Peasant Art” series of books by Charles Holmes.
An egg box in the shape of a goose from the Tyrol or Vorarlberg area of Austria from “Peasant Art in Austria and Hungary” by Charles Holme, et. al., published in 1911. Dimensions not given.
The top of the box (one piece or two?) flips open and it looks like there may be a catch mechanism at the base of the tail. A kitchen box to hold eggs is a utilitarian item. It can be a plain square box and does not need decoration. However, when the maker matches the design of the box to its use it becomes an object of joy. The curve of the bird’s neck, the detail given the eyes and beak and the meticulous chip carving add nothing to the quality of eggs stored within. But, for the woman or child that transfers the eggs from an old straw basket to this box it provides a moment of pleasure in the long day of work on a farm.
A duck-shaped box, New Kingdom (16th to 11th century BC), Egypt, British Museum. 6 inches long, 3-3/4 inches high. The head is attached, and the beak is broken.
The idea of a bird-shaped box has a long history and can be found in many cultures. This box was used for cosmetics. The wings, attached with pins near the neck, form the lid and are decorated with crosshatching. The wings, likely cut from one piece of wood, swing out to open the box.
Another example from ancient Egypt from the same time period and with similar measurements. British Museum.
Another New Kingdom cosmetics box with a missing lid allows a better view of the bowl-shaped body of the bird. As can be seen in the color photo and the line drawings, this duck box has a greater level of carved detail. Although they are not necessary for the function of the box, we find the duck’s feet! With the wings closed and sitting in one’s hand this would be a delightful little duck that just so happens to be a box.
Back, or forward, to the 20th century and one more practical item in the shape of a bird.
From “Peasant Art in Russia” by Charles Holme, et. al, published in 1912.
This egg dish, or bowl, is quite dashing with handles formed by a beak and a tail of almost equal size. The bird’s “crew cut” comb just adds to charm of this piece.
Back to My Birds
A small bird bowl by David Fisher.
This bird, by a carver in the exotic western portion of Pennsylvania, just sings. Dave has captured the dynamic moment before a bird launches itself into the air and takes off like a shot.
A partridge, maker unknown. 4-1/2 inches long, 3-1/2 inches high.
I don’t know who made this little bird or where it was made. Except for a portion of the head and neck it is covered in moon-shaped feathers. The head, back and wings are stained, adding dimension and life to the carving.
The wings are not perfectly centered on the body, but it takes nothing away from the piece. I find myself reaching for this bird almost every day. It is a little treasure.
One bird I do not attempt to pick up very often is the largest bird in my small collection, Rémy the Rooster.
Rémy the Rooster in front of one of my bookcases. Not his usual spot, but the only place to get a good photo of his magnificent entirety. 32 inches high, weighs about 10 lbs.
I don’t normally give names to inanimate objects, just the special ones. Rémy was purchased from a seller in northeast Alabama close to where that corner of Alabama meets Tennessee and Georgia. It is possible he was made in the southern Appalachians. He was dated as being made in the 1940s, but could be a bit earlier or later. Whoever made this rooster had a good sense of humor.
I found a similar rooster, very likely by the same maker, on a high-end sale site that dated it as 19th century. It sold for more than five times what I paid for my bird and its shipping cost. To me, the 19th century date is doubtful. The entire bird was painted a mottled reddish color that obscured carved details on the head. I suspect the paint job was an effort to artificially age and date the piece.
My rooster is painted black and, based on several nicks and dings, there is no undercoat of a different color. The comb and wattle are dark red.
I find the head-on view a bit disturbing.
Carved details on his head include curlicues on the comb and a simple round eye rimmed with white. The carved line of the beak is defined with dark red paint. There is a chip off the end of the beak and on one wattle (or fleshy caruncle) and some dings here and there. Whatever his age, he is in good condition.
Rémy is made of one piece of wood and is staked into a base that is 4 inches high. A feather edge is carved above his legs, and the legs have spurs. His feet are carved into the base, a common feature for many wooden roosters.
One of the problems the bird carver must solve, besides how to present the legs and feet, is the weight of the tail. Often this is solved by carving the bird and base as one piece, or by placing the bird on a base as was done in the crow/raven in the top photo. The showy tail feathers of a rooster require a different solution as the weight and extension of the tail can easily tip over even small carvings. Rooster crafters have solved this problem by chopping out the underside of the tail feathers, thereby reducing the mass of the tail.
Now, I would never knowingly photograph the hind quarters of anyone, even to show you the rooster-tail solution. On the other hand, I have no qualms using a photograph taken by someone else (of the previously mentioned expensive rooster) as a means of illustrating the solution.
The derrière of the “other” rooster. It also shows more of the surface carving of the tail feathers.
Although we may not be able to perfectly identify the species of each wooden bird, or have exact information on when and who made them, what we do have is handmade work that brings us pleasure. By extension, these wooden examples can help guide us to have a greater appreciation for the birds outside our windows.
Peter Follansbee will spend four days with us to teach a class in carving various 17th-century designs from pieces he’s studied from museums and private collections. This class – suitable for those new to carving or those new to this style of carving – will start with basic techniques and posture, and simple gouge work. Then more gouges will come into play as students delve deeper into patterns, proportions, spacing and the relationship between background and foreground. Each successive pattern builds upon the previous example, adding more tools and concepts.
The class runs Monday, April 17 through Thursday, April 20. Class size is limited to six students – so you’ll get plenty of personal attention from Follansbee. Plus the shop cats (if they deign to visit). The cost is $1,200, which includes the stock (quartersawn oak). Tickets go on sale a week from today at 10 a.m. Eastern (that’s 10 a.m. Eastern on January 12) through our Ticket Tailor page.
You can read more, and see the tool list, by clicking here.
I’m teaching a class this week and will be spending Saturday in recovery (aka hanging out on the couch with my two cats), and Chris is teaching a Peasant Coffer class on Saturday and Sunday. So, we’ve asked our friend John Cashman – whom you might better know through Instagram as Pragmatic Anarchist – to host Open Wire on June 8 from 8 a.m.-5 p.m. And he has kindly agreed.
I asked John to introduce himself and share some pictures of himself and his work, so you could get to know a bit about him before Saturday. Typically, we rewrite these short profiles … but John is far funnier than am I, so I thought he should say hello in his own words.
– Fitz
Standing desk.
I’m John Cashman. I live in eastern Massachusetts, and have been woodworking since about 1980. Hand-tool manufacturing was in its last gasp at the time. Stanley had stopped making pretty much everything, though Record still carried a decent variety – but not for long. The one Woodcraft in the country was about a 45-minute drive, so that was great. But there were no Rocklers, Lee Valleys or Lie-Nielsen. No internet. So when I first started working wood, most of my tools came from Sears. Now they’re gone too. Maybe it’s me?
Standing desk drawer detail.
My only stationary machines were a Craftsman radial arm saw and monotube lathe. But I made a lot of furniture. All sorts of styles. Sometimes there would be three or four styles in one piece! But over time I was drawn to Queen Anne and Shaker more than anything else. You can see a few samples from the pictures. I’ve given away much more than I’ve kept.
Fezzig, aka Fezzie (shown reflected in a Chippendale mirror).
Over the years I’ve acquired much better power tools. I do miles and miles of resawing. I’ve collected lots and lots of hand tools, both vintage and new, and prefer to use them whenever I can. I’ve done a fair amount of period carving. I’m still a really crappy turner. I’d like to blame the lathe, but if I’m being honest, I cannot.
Shaker work table.
The last few years I’ve been making mountains of Shaker boxes, most of which go to the wonderful Enfield Shaker Village in New Hampshire. Anyone who has an opportunity to go, should visit. They’ve made the original stone dwelling into a very nice hotel.
Queen Anne lowboy (a sturdy piece – still, Inigo,aka Innie, seems concerned by that stack of books.)
If anyone has questions on Shaker boxes, now is your chance. Likewise, questions on Queen Anne and Chippendale pieces, which Chris doesn’t write about. I have a million or so woodworking books, from building birdhouses to 17th- and 18th-century Spanish furniture in colonial Peru. I’m always happy to talk books. I was a historian back in the day. If you have questions on the U.S. Guano Islands, this is your moment.
The top Shaker oval box shown in this stack is shorter than a dime.
I am no chair expert. Not remotely. I’ve made a half-dozen or so, and half of those were of the Queen Anne and Chippendale variety. Aside from being seating, they bear no resemblance in construction to stick chairs. You can still ask, but if I’m not sure of the answer, I’ll say so.
The Pirate Map used by the Visitor (before aging with tea, water, dirt, crumpling and folding). The Tropics of Newport are to the east; flying pigs, muddy banks and Larry the Ferryman are on the north bank. The swine whales live near the ‘O’s on the river. The visitor’s skiff has passed the Licking River and is between the ‘R’ and ‘I’.
My internet service was out for a while and I wasn’t able to respond to the comments to Chris’ reading of “A Visitor Comes to Covington” or to the backstory of the book. Thank you for the many very kind comments.
I wasn’t sure how the book would be received. In the letter sent with the book my suggestion was to put it on a high shelf in the library, push it well to the back and put something heavy on it. Alternatively, it could be buried in the basement. Fortunately, the Stick Chair Badge Approval & Distribution Committee (Chris and Megan) liked the book and I heard there was a bit of teary-eyedness when each had read the book. I didn’t intend to make anyone cry but have to confess I got a bit of moisture around my eyes when Chris read the book.
Below is a photo of my last cat, Bunky Beanie Bronzini. He was a big and solid 15-pounder capable of herding me towards the kitchen when he thought I might be headed in the wrong direction. If he had lived another few years he would gained another name or two. This was his “No, absolutely not,” expression.
