Outside of a Dog...

Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend, inside of a dog, it's too dark to read.
Groucho Marx

I think woodworkers take the cake as far as dog obsession (sorry Megan). In my case at least, I'm comfortable admitting that making a life in woodworking is basically an attempt to recreate and extend my favorite childhood moments. Dogs and sticks...what more do I have to say...Rosebud?

Here is my latest shop mate Georgie, taking in the morning sun while I cook breakfast. One of the reasons that I want to share this experience (besides the obvious cute as hell factor) is how much this little gal is teaching me about, well everything. Anyone who has ever had a shy or nervous dog will relate to this. Georgie is the easiest dog that I've adopted, until she sees something new. She was raised without much exposure to people and certainly no exposure to city life. Around home, she is housebroken, a snap to train and always eager to please. But when new people come around or someone on the street makes eye contact, she goes in full flight mode.

I'll cut right to the chase with what I've learned, and believe it or not, relate it back to woodworking and chairmaking. Anyone with expertise or years of experience knows how tough it can be to explain the process to a newcomer. How can they not understand that their tools are dull or their technique is wrong, it's so obvious?! This brings me to my second quote

Patience is a mild form of despair, disguised as a virtue
Ambrose Bierce

When I finally taught Georgie that jumping in the truck could be fun (there's safety and treats in there), I thought that I'd opened up a whole new world of adventure, we can go anywhere now!
But then how do I get her out?
If my other dog Kobe is there, she follows him out, but otherwise, no deal. So my first inclination was to grab the dog, put her on the ground, give her a treat and then expect that now she knows that it's all good. I did this a couple of times, but the fear instilled by my reaching for her was worse than any promise of a treat. To her, the truck ride is still novel, and that door opens to a great swirling abyss. Reaching in to grab her is akin to the disembodied arm reaching out of the darkness!

Thinking from her perspective is one of the most challenging mental games that I've come across, there is so much that we take for granted. So here's what I did. We went to the truck in the driveway, I opened the door and she hopped in happily. Then I held a treat so that she'd have to stick her head out just a bit to get it. Then she retreated. The next one was a little further out and finally, she hopped down to get one on the ground, this is the driveway that she knows after all. Multiple treats and then a well earned retreat to the truck.
Then we repeated the process about 4 times until she hopped down willingly. Throughout the day, I walked her to the truck about 3 more times to repeat this process. At the end of the day, I leashed her up, drove her to the park, crouched next to the car and called her out, and she hopped down and off we went. Not all our work is this fast. New people and experiences are still a challenge.


I think that extending this kind of patience with students, or even better, ourselves, while learning is essential. I recall wanting to learn woodworking, but I had such trouble letting myself take a little at a time, I wanted to master is all, get to that end ability. But like it or not, I think we all learn more like Georgie. Finding out what parts you are comfortable with and stepping into risk with some safety is essential.
Students often remark that I am very effusive in my support during class. It isn't false praise, what I see is a bunch of adults, experts in things that I probably know nothing about, putting themselves out there and trusting me to guide them through uncharted territory. It's a leap of faith and act of bravery that I've rarely risked.

Moral of the story, besides get a dog? Give yourself a break, take a moment to think of your goals as well as your achievements and remember, even though the piece that you are working on will be finished, your process marches on. What kicks your butt today, you will soon take for granted.

Episode 4: A New Beginning

If you don't follow me on instagram (it's like blogging with a dash of attention deficit disorder) than you might have missed some of the goings on lately, so I'll try to catch you up!

I spent four months as a resident artist at SUNY Purchase, which is a college just north of White Plains, New York. It was a fantastic experience getting to have time to create whatever I wanted and interact with a group of wonderful young people. I had minimal teaching requirements, just a few hours a week and found myself exploring ideas that would be tough to do in my normal shop time.
I made sculptures, chairs, and chairs that were somewhat sculptural!

Here are some images of the pieces from the exhibit at the end of my time there. Here is a rocker that I made.

 I was playing with some ideas, trying to convey a sense of tension between the parts, treating the posts and legs like tent poles (with some subtle details to add to the effect) and the crest, seat and spindles and arms seem to stretch and drape over them. I've always enjoyed the way that classic Windsors show tension and thought I'd push it a little.

When I first arrived at the school, I was frankly a bit burnt out from making lots of chairs to fulfill all my obligations while clearing 4 months of my calendar. There were a bunch of discarded logs outside the studio, so I started splitting and carving them to make it look like there were objects embedded in them. If you've ever split a log, you know that moment of discovery when it is finally in half and you can see what you got. I always thrill at this moment and enjoyed the thought of these objects meeting me there.

 Here is a bench that I made in Butternut and White Oak. The high spots on the carved seat are akin to the pommel on a seat, so you can sit in lots of positions, kind of like my perches.

 The is a bit of a departure. I have a bunch of lovely curly ambrosia maple planks, but as you can imagine, it doesn't come into play much in my chair work. So I wondered how I might find interest in it without just stuffing it into a box form. This thin plank cupped and warped a lot, so I took the challenge to join two pieces with dovetails. It required lots of head scratching and scribing as the planks are rough sawn not uniform in any way. I really liked the way it came out. It looks very different from every angle.

 Here is again, looking full of volume.

 

Here you can see the rough sawn texture competing with the curly maple, it makes for a lovely surface

 I could go on and on about all the different stuff, probably wearing your patience thin with my "artistic" works. Suffice it to say, we all need to play sometimes to clear out the cobwebs and I surely did that.

At opening, I was lucky enough to have my good friend Jon Binzen, from Fine Woodworking, join me for a conversation about the work. It was an honor and a pleasure. 

There's lot more that's happened since I disappeared, but for now, I will leave you with this, my new pup Georgia! She's a rescue from, yes, Georgia and is about 1 year old. She was part of a hoarding situation and surrendered to the shelter with 10 other dogs. She has very little exposure to the world but she is sweet and bold enough to test it out. With some support, I see her blossoming into an epic companion.

 

And of course a great shop dog!

 She has the lovely spirit of my dear Lil and I am beyond overjoyed to be with her.

Ray Duffy

Last week, I got news from the nephew of my friend Ray Duffy that he had passed away. Ray was one of the first people to reach out to me when I moved from New York to Massachusetts. He only knew me through Chairnotes but offered to let me use his ample workshop until I got set up here. Throughout my time as Rays friend, he showed a generosity and kindness that I've come to see as the binding force in the woodworking community. Whether helping me make a new maple syrup evaporator or offering to forge a replica of my favorite scorp, Ray was always looking for ways to engage and offer his time and expertise. Here is a photo of me and Ray with my book. Through a snag in the mailing, purchasers started receiving the book before me, so Ray came over with his copy so I could finally see the results of my efforts.

A couple of years ago, Ray's wife passed away. I admit, I was concerned about his well being afterwards. I was relieved when Ray told me about his new lady friend Penny. He and Penny shared a passion for art and creating and Ray was very excited about their most recent projects together. I think that the way Ray shared his life and passions is a great blueprint for a life well lived. I hope to live the same way, more excited about the next project than the last and cherishing those who share the road. Rest in peace Ray.

The Process

I got a comment earlier asking about the process behind coming up with the Galbert Caliper. I am so close to getting the new Drawsharp in my hands from Jameel at Benchcrafted that I can hardly contain myself. So I thought I'd show a little about how these things come to be.

The calipers were born out of pure frustration with all the other methods that I tried for measuring my turnings. I won't go into it, but suffice it to say, I hated the first part of every turning. Then, one day, I noticed how the large part of a chair leg was harder to clamp in the v blocks that I use to drill mortises because it didn't seat as far as the small parts. When I realized that measuring the distance that each one went into the v block could be translated into the diameter, I dropped what I was doing and made my first crude caliper. You can see it at the top of the image below. I made it by grinding an old plane blade.

Above is a partial series of the caliper prototypes. The early ones worked great, but the range of the tool was limited and the "jaws" were so long that they would hit the tool rest. So I started thinking of other ways to translate the linear motion of the "stylus" to a rotary motion that could use different angles and ratios. I called upon a former student who was a rocket scientist to work out the math for me and I came to what I thought was the best angle for the largest range of measuring.
I am a big believer in ugly prototypes. The point is to prove the concept, not to be pretty.
I can't wait to present the new Drawsharp and the Adze that Tim Manney and I have been developing. The process is such a pleasure, that having an actual tool in the end feels like icing on the cake.

Nice to Meet You

Since I moved to Sterling, Massachusetts, I've been swamped with projects and traveling and had little time to get to know my community or let them know me. That changed when I talked to Dave Gibbs at the Sterling Historical Society about combining our efforts and interests. The Society has a lovely collection of Windsors that were made here in town as well as a barn full of the old tools from its workshops. The first floor of the barn is relatively empty, and I thought it would be a great location to host some 6 person classes. So, next summer, I hope to schedule three classes there, but I'll post more on that once we work out the details.
To help introduce me to the community, the Sterling Historical Society hosted a demonstration at the local American Legion post and Ross Jones of Harvard Video Productions filmed it for us. Here is the video of the demonstration.
If it doesn't appear on your screen, click here to go to the original site.



As you can see, I am elated to be starting this project. I think 6 is a great number of students for a class. Plenty enough for a group energy and atmosphere but few enough for lots of personal attention.

And if I got you interested in my talk with Dudley Hershbach, here is a great interview with him that I found every bit as engaging as sitting next to him on the plane.



and once again, the link if you don't see the video here.

Flying High

It has been an intense summer full of action and as usual, the blog has taken a back seat. But with the cool weather on it's way and lots to announce, I am going to be making a renewed effort to chime in more often.

I flew back from teaching in the midwest recently and thought it a tale worth sharing. No, it's not an airplane horror story. I actually enjoy flying. I know, it sounds masochistic, but I still think that it is amazing that I can wake up on the east coast and have lunch in the midwest. When I get to the airport, I focus on people watching and I go to the "happy place". This is where I work out the design or tooling issues that I never have time for back home.
Upon boarding the plane, I usually put my shop hearing protection on to keep the screaming babies and busybody neighbors out of my head. This trip was a bit different. I glanced over at the man next to me and noticed that he was reading a paper about Niels Bohr, who was a giant of physics of the last century. My hobby is finding lectures aimed at the laymen about folks like Bohr. After a few minutes, I broke the barrier of my "happy place" and took off the earmuffs and asked him about the paper. It turns out that he is a chemical physicist and a Professor Emeritus at Harvard. He was delightfully willing to chat at a level that I could follow and we spent the entire flight discussing science, creativity and education. It was fantastic. Near the end, he gave me his card with an image like the one below.

Apparently, he made a guest appearance on the Simpsons in 2003. I was tickled that his card said "Best Known as a Guest Voice on the Simpsons".
We parted and I went on my way home to unpack my tools and get ready for the next hurdle. Later that night, on a lark, I googled his name, Dudley Hershbach and immediately broke out in laughter. You see, he mentioned the Simpsons, but left out his Nobel Prize in 1986!
Thanks Dudley, you made my year.

A Letter of Note

I just returned from a trip to New Jersey to celebrate the engagement of my little sister Sloane. 
I have a very mixed up family tree and there are plenty of people in it with whom I don't share any biology but I do share a great deal of history. One of those people is my grandfather Ken Glemby.

Ken Glemby

I credit Ken with sparking my interest in woodworking and I benefited greatly from the hours of caring and sharing that he gave to me. He used to build model airplanes, not the kind that go on a shelf, but the kind that have 4-6 foot wingspans and actually fly. It's appropriate because he was a WW2 fighter pilot who flew over the Battle of the Bulge. He never spoke much about his service, but in recent years, as he approached and passed 90 years old, he has opened up and told more stories. It's really astounding what this man did in his early 20's.

Ken Today

After the 3 hour drive home, I sat down to unwind with one of my favorite websites called Letters of Note. The latest entry struck me because it instantly reminded me of the care, humor and humility that I've been so impressed by in my lifetime privilege of knowing Ken, I hope you read and enjoy it.

Feynman

I noticed that this is my 501 st posting on Chairnotes! My best days always include working out something or learning something and posting about it. I am trying to steer my activities to encourage these behaviors. Thanks for sticking around.

I'm a bit of an insomniac. But I'm not one of those toss and turn, stress about how much sleep I'm losing insomniacs. I get up, get dressed and enjoy an hour or two of peace and quiet with no phone ringing and no meaningful work. I indulge in lots of rambling thoughts in these wee hours.
Recently, I've been spending nights listening to lectures and stories by Richard Feynman. He was one of the great minds in physics of the twentieth century, and his ramblings fit perfectly with my mood. Then, over breakfast, I retell his stories. If you haven't heard Feynman speak, he sounds like my Uncle Jay from New York, but stick with it, because like Jay, his brilliance comes along unexpectedly.
This one blew my mind.

Here is one of my favorite talks, and it's about trees, so I figure it fits.

I've bought a new drawknife the other day, shocking, I know.
It's a Barton #7. Barton is one of the only makers that used a geometry that distinctly lends itself to use bevel up. I have always liked the large gap between the blade and the handles, it makes seat carving a snap.

Many of the Bartons are quite large, but this one is just right.

The steel in this knife is superb and I was so excited when I sharpened it, that Claire suggested that I name it "Feynman", and so it is.

For the Sake of Clarity

I've been turning my thoughts towards the class that I'll be teaching at Kelly Mehlers School in a few weeks. I thought it might be worth highlighting some recent thoughts and plans for the class.

Let's face it, there are enough chairs in the out there. I don't rush to the shop concerned that someone is lacking a place to sit. I go for the joy and challenge of making. For the most part, the chairs that I make leave my shop  and I am left pondering the next chair, my tools and my process. As I assume it is with most folks, it's about exploring the limits of my tools and my ability.
And as do most folks, I've looked for help. The magazines and books guided and inspired me, but in the end, I was left guessing whether my results were hitting the mark. The funny thing is, even after all these years, the desire to get more from my tools and process has only deepened.

A case in point just pulled up as I was writing this. My friend Scott came over last week and I helped him reshape his turning tools. This time he came over for a couple of chunks of maple to try them out on. He was remarking how excited he was to get back to the lathe now that his tools were better shaped. I know well the frustration he must have felt turning before.

In a broad sense, this is what the class at Kelly's is about. We will investigate the geometry and function of tools we have and ones that we are making to get the most out of our woodworking experience.Whether it's the holding power of our shave horse or the angle of the handles of our drawknives, we'll be  addressing our expectations head on.

One project that I am excited about is making adzes.
Tim Manney and I have turned our attention to designing a new adze.
Tim had great experience in Peru watching the folks use adzes and I've always made my own adzes, first for financial reasons and lately because I haven't been impressed by the ones available. And, oh yeah, did I mention financial reasons?

Grinding the Blade

We've been asking the basic question "What is a proper chairmakers adze and how does it work?" I've come up with a good prototype and Tim and I made up some variations hoping to advance the design and better understand its use. As expected, our initial efforts raised more questions than answers, but we have gotten some great results and are looking forward to the next versions. Greg is bringing along his forge and anvil to Kelly's so we can make some tools, including adzes and start at the beginning of our craft, the steel.

A Rough Prototype

On the process of chairmaking, we'll start with my basic goal as a chairmaker.
I don't want to make a chair, I want to make any chair. That means that I am not satisfied to have a single design, instead, I want a process that functions to bring to life whatever I can imagine. The Windsor technology is a perfect framework for this, as the limitations that it offers have led me to come up with some simple landmarks and techniques for connecting the dots.
Chairs can be mysterious, even to experienced makers, but I think that with a little focus on design and process, you can understand the variables and their meaning.

A Chair Near Completion

I won't ramble on any more, suffice it to say, this is going to be an exciting week and I hope to see you there.

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Sometime you just have to keep up with the times, so I'd like to introduce my new robotic travisher maker, The Armitron.

Actually, this is what happens when I leave the shop for a few hours and a 25 year old toolmaker finds a 30 year old toy. The funny part of pulling this thing from the attic is that every male from 30 to 45 who see it shouts, ARMITRON!!

Here is a photo of Ken St. Onge, Armitron devotee and editor from Fine Woodworking. He and I have been working on a two part turning article and he took it to heart when I suggested a day at my lathe might benefit us both as we head into producing part two. Perhaps no tool requires resilience when learning such as the lathe and teaching it gives a view into the ways that each person deals with failure, largely because there is no way to learn to turn without lots of it. 

Of course, there are plenty of other activities in chairmaking that require a healthy does of composure in the face of adversity.

I think that perhaps I’ve reached a tipping point where I’ve had my efforts go awry enough times to take it in stride, or at the very least, not be shocked and utterly demoralized when it happens.

One part of our woodworking literature that is sadly missing is dealing with the failure inherent in the learning process. Most of us are on our own, learning from books or trial and error. The glossy images of wisened woodworkers who’ve mastered the craft only go to rub in the fact that we are not likely to get anything right the first time.

Here are a few quotes that I always have kicking around in my head when run full speed into my limitations.

"An expert is a person who has made all the mistakes that can be made in a given field."

Niels Bohr

"The best way to have a good idea is to have lots of ideas."

Linus Pauling

"I have not failed, I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work."

Thomas Edison

Everyone screws up sometimes. It’s a humbling process, but if you embrace your mistakes and sometimes even learn to repeat them, not only will you master the technique, but you'll forge a process and perspective for learning that will spread into the rest of the workshop, maybe even beyond. 

And of course, I'm referring to mastering the Armitron.

Lie-Nielsen Event

I recently attended a Lie-Nielsen at the Connecticut Valley School of Woodworking. It was great to see some old friends like Tico Vogt and Will Neptune. It also gave me the chance to finally meet Peter Follansbee in the flesh. We have so many mutual friends and have emailed over the years, plus, I am a huge fan of his work, so it was a pleasure to finally hang out and see him in action.
Here is Will Neptune displaying some of his prodigious skill.

photo by Jeff Burks

 
You can see photos of the event at http://www.carpentryarchive.org/images/cvsw/cvsw_ln_12.html or at http://www.closegrain.com/2012/10/lie-nielsen-hand-tool-event-at-cvsw.html.
Thanks to Steve Branam and Jeff Burks for sharing their images and to Bob van Dyke and Lie-Nielsen for hosting us.

Here is another photo that I just couldn't pass up. It was taken by furniture maker Duncan Gowdy of his new son Carter.

Congratulations Duncan and Elizabeth!

Moment by Moment

I've had a lot of quiet time to myself in the shop lately, which has been a real luxury. Sometimes it can take a while to get to that calm place where fun and creative things can flow. I know that this is even harder for folks who only have a few rushed hours on the weekend to fit in their "relaxation shop time". Sue has seen me in the mad dash to enjoy my free time, we call it gulping.

It's usually a sort of of tragic comedy that ends up with stupid mistakes, poor decision making and a general sense of defeat. It's like I left the window open and all the junk that I'm trying to ignore comes rushing in to wreak havoc.

I've found that these times are best suited to small stuff that can be picked up and put down easily. I think that carving spoons fits the bill perfectly. I know that I've said it before, but spoon carving is one of the great teaching activities as well as being portable, cheap and rewarding, perfect when you don't have the time or inspiration to tackle that highboy you've been meaning to build.



In the past weeks, with no students around and my caliper safely in the hands of the retailers, I've set out to remember what it is that I'm supposed to do after my coffee. So while I'm having my coffee, I've been carving spoons. And sure enough, not only has it helped ease me back into full time shop life, but the lessons learned have found their way into my chairs.



These spoons came from the same hunk of applewood that I harvested a few weeks back. I can only imagine why they have such a marked color difference. The goals and tools in spoon carving are very similar to chairmaking. A fine spoon can be useful, delicate looking, strong and beautiful, all at once.



Generally, I've left the knife cut finish just about everywhere on the spoon, but with this batch, I tried to accentuate the gentle rounding of the handle by smoothing the surface and letting the grain tell the story.
But as you can see, the surfaces of the bowl portion are knife faceted. As I worked on them and lived with them, I've come to really like the transition and juxtaposition.



Beside working on a new rod back armchair, I've been designing and building a fan back that I'll be teaching next year at Kelly Mehlers in Berea. I've always wanted to make a fan back with a crest like this, and I figured this would be the opportunity.



As I was shaping it and thinking of the surface finish, the lessons from the spoons came to mind and I decided to have the shape be smooth and fluid on the front of the "ears" and faceted on the back. I'm pleased with the results.



Like most folks, I try to make the most of my time in the shop, but sometimes there's more to it than that. The shop isn't just a place to get away, but a space to work out all influences of the world that we bring with us, and sometimes all we can manage is a foot in the door, or maybe just a spoon, and that's more than enough.

Good Fences

I have had an email exchange with Jameel Abraham that brought to mind an old story. Jameel is a maker of exquisite Ouds. If you have not seen them, you simply must. Visit Khalaf Oud Luthiery Blog

In our exchange, I was reminded of my time in New York City, when I shared a tiny storefront space with a guitar maker. It was as I jealously watched my shopmate, Justin Gunn, craft his arch top guitars with his hand tools in a 10'X10' workspace that I realized that I had to find my own answer to my desire to make an enduring object of beauty and value in wood with the tools that I loved using. It was in this small space that I made my first chair.

It was also in this space that I met Eddie Boros. Eddie was a fixture in the East Village, living in the apartment where he was born (until his death in 2007) and making art the only way he knew how, out of the refuse of the city streets. Eddie created the tower of toys that you may have seen on the beginning sequence of NYPD Blue. He was a real character, like one of the Bowery Boys, only in sandals and a string of pearls.



I got to be friends with Eddie as he would visit our shop, he even made me the sculpture that you see in the image. Eddie was the real deal. He made things with a natural ease that most artists would kill for, imaginative and complex yet simple. When he asked me what I'd like, I said that I thought my wife would like a horse. A couple of weeks later he brought this work to me. He said that he couldn't figure out how to finish it, so he made a worker perpetually toiling on it. He made this with a few dull tools and a bottle of glue. It's a prized possession. If I could make sculpture like this, I would.

But back to my story, one day Eddie came into the shop to find my shopmate Justin playing around on my small lathe. He berated Justin for toying around with this "dangerous" tool. He turned to me and said, "It's ok for you, you're like a carpenter, a fence builder, he's an artist!"

Perhaps it seems strange, because their work is so different, but when I look at Jameel's Ouds or Eddies horse, I have a similar feeling, perhaps it's the humbling presence of art, or maybe just the burning need to build a fence.

Good and Better

Here is Wayne Grove making spindles last week. Wayne was in my class at Peters Valley last year and made good on the promise to come up and make a chair with me. He has already made a slew of chairs in his time, so we spent a lot of the week discussing the finer points and trying to raise the bar in quality, technique and focus.


I've heard it said that "better is the enemy of good", and if I understand the quote, I am not much of an adherent to it. To me, a huge part of my interest lies in looking deeper beyond the skills that I already possess, even if it means the occasional (or often) ruined workpiece. I find trying irresistible and the consequence of failure tolerable. This is definitely evident in my turning. I can't tell you how many times I've gone back for "one more clean up pass with the skew" and blown off an entire detail!

But thanks to those efforts, I've gotten to control my skew.
Below on the left is one of the legs that I turned at the NWA showcase out of soft maple next to one that I did in the shop in hard maple.


Of course, standing in front of a crowd full of observers and questions while trying to explain my caliper is bound to lead to a drop in focus and quality. When I got back to the shop and set out to turn more legs, with a slightly more robust pattern, the time and quiet let me shoot for "better".


Hopefully you can see the sharper edges and more delicate shaping in the leg on the right.
Perhaps viewed under the paint and from across the room there wouldn't seem to be much of a difference, but by making the details more refined and challenging there was a huge pay off,
I had fun.

Here's Wayne gluing up his undercarraige. We used my new marking method and it worked out great.


Today is one of those days. All errands, paperwork and computer work (why should I be any different, right?!" I started by getting photos taken of the chair that's heading to Maine for the faculty exhibit at the Center for Furniture Craftsmanship. The chair is cherry (remember me cutting it down last fall), white oak and butternut, with walnut wedges.



Here's a detail of the arm joint. For a diseased tree, it sure had some lovely wood.


I am close to loading up the next video on skew technique. We are getting closer to actually cutting wood, but not quite!

Influences

Wading through the sea of influences that have an impact on my thinking and work can be both daunting and inspiring. Whenever I can't seem to drag myself out to the shop (think freezing cold dark mornings or perfect summer afternoons) I crack a book or two and look and the work of others, and I am soon pulled pack into needing to make something.
Sometimes, inspiration can come from unexpected places. Below is a picture of the last piece made my Henri Matisse. At the time that it was made, he was confined to his bed, where he cut out shapes in colored paper and had an assistant pin them to the wall to make his compositions. The stained glass window is in the Rockefeller chapel of the Union Church of Pocantico Hills. I saw this window when I was 15 years old, and I have been thinking a lot about it lately.

So what is so special about this window?



The tradition of the rose window is one of opulence and symmetry. The greats of Europe are intricate and ornate as they hold center stage in the cathedral, meant to inspire awe and hold their own in the greatest displays of architecture of their time. Matisses window plays a different kind of role. At first, when looking at it, it is a simpler version of the rose window. But on closer inspection, one sees that within the rigid framework, that no two pieces are alike. Symmetry and similarity give way to freedom, lightness and life. It may sound simple, but I spend a lot of time trying to deal with its ramifications.

I have been designing new work lately with a different set of priorities. This year, I have been trying new technologies and designs in an attempt to add my bit to the tradition of chairmaking. I have had some success at it, but the final element has been missing, fun. Not to say that I don't enjoy the work, but I have known all along that once I'd resolved some of my initial goals, that the process would have to be reapproached with the aim of bringing more joy to the making, as well as to the chairs.

I think that every craftsman is in this postion at one time or another, sure the work is beautiful, but what a pain! So with simplicity in mind, I've been reviewing my goals, and the works of many masters. I have been looking carefully at chairs of all sorts, trying to distill the elements that I admire and the ways that the process and forms coalesce. In some instances, such as Sam Maloof, I find the process torturous (way to much abrasives!) but am awed by the fluid forms and overall gesture.

So off I go to the shop, with many voices echoing in my head, until I start to work, and they quiet down, so that I can get some work done.

I'll be posting photos of the new work soon.

Timeless

This is a chair that I've owned since before I ever made a Windsor chair, or even had a real interest in them. The chair was simply left behind by someone vacating a New York city apartment. I liked the painting and kept it.

After having and using the chair for a couple of years, I went to lift it by the posts and the entire top came apart. I was astounded that there was no glue in the top but it was still solid. This was enough to push me further towards exploring chairmaking.
I don't know how old the chair is, it is obviously a factory product, but there are some nice hand shaved tenons on the top of the spindles and of course the painting is very handmade looking.



There is a freshness to this painting that I really enjoy. The years of patina, age and abuse can't cover the immediacy of the painter. It's as though they were just here. This is an achievement in painting be it on a canvas or a piece of furniture.
I suppose that you could call the painting naive or folk art. I have seen many chairs that look exactly like this one, but never with this painting. Perhaps it was the addition of the purchaser.



My training in "fine art" painting left me with a few observations. The most important is that all the virtuosity in the world cannot help you if you've got nothing to say. I recall struggling to relate to a blank canvas, and never quite being inspired. But I never have that problem when I walk in the room and see this little chair.

Inspiration

Before I had ever made my first chair, I looked to this book as a compass to help guide and inspire me. I first saw it on the shelf of a 1740's bed and breakfast that Sue and I used to visit outside of New Paltz, NY. We later got married in the living room of the B &B and I designed my house to approximate its warmth. I loved sitting in front of a fire, reading about how beams were hewn and then looking up to see the telltale chop marks on the beams overhead. A Museum of Early American Tools by Eric Sloane (available through Amazon etc...) isn't just a romantic view to the past. I think that for those interested in hand tool use, it clarifies the important relationship of between utility and simplicity. The beautifully rendered images of tools and their uses demonstrate the connection between the tools and the survival of those that wielded them. These folks weren't trying to be romantic, they were trying not to starve and freeze, and by doing so, they found remarkably elegant solutions to the problems they faced using simple tools and the materials at hand. Of course, most of us don't face these problems, but we are trying to have a relationship to the tools and materials that approximates this sense of self sufficiency and clarity. Anyone who has read my posts will notice that I rarely advise the purchase of anything, but to me, this little book is an essential, check it out.