Recently we traveled to Greater Atlanta to attend this year’s gathering of the Professional Refinisher’s Group, a/k/a “Groop,” and online forum to which I have belonged for almost twenty years. Though initially a “virtual” community, we started assembling almost annually for the past 16 years.
Our hosts this year were the cooperative known as Southern Restorations whose large enterprise is steered by Brian Webster.
Note: If you have even a passing interest in furniture finishing or restoration, you SHOULD be a member of Groop. For further information on joining click here. If you attended the HO Studley exhibit in Cedar Rapids IA you undoubtedly met some of our members, as most of the docents were volunteers from Groop.
Once again GroopShop was an invigorating time of fellowship and sometimes idiosyncratic conversations ranging from surviving running a small business in an esoteric marketplace to arcane discussions of technical subjects and all points in between (virtually all the members of Groop are some version of small businesses). I know my interest was piqued on a regular basis throughout the three days, sometimes so much I forgot to take pictures..
After opening introductions and such the first demonstration of the event was for a low-impact abrasive cleaning system that was especially appealing to our members who undertake architectural work. Were I a younger man living near the city trying to build a business, this is a device I would certainly consider obtaining. The results were impressive, and I brought home a cleaned table leg to see how it finishes up.
Next came an excellent presentation on recent advances in waterborne coatings systems. While I do not use much in the way of these products, if I had a commercial refinishing shop in this age of envirohysteria, I would.
Next came Dan and Tredway demonstrating the process by which they mold and cast replicas. I especially enjoyed this not only because I have done so much of this, but because they use a very different product line/technology than I do. (They are Smooth-On guys and I am a Polytek guy) Somehow I wound up with the fancy eagle, and will probably paint and gild it and perhaps put it in next year’s Groop fundraising auction. In the mean time I will experiment with making a gelatin mold plaster cast from it.
RandyB gave another inspiring talk about life in the antiques preservation trade. His creativity knows no bounds. His many years of caring for collectors’ and dealers has left him with a wealth of experience and knowledge. I first met Randy while teaching at DCTC decades ago.
BobC gave his paean to oil finishes. Intriguing. I think there could be an intersection between them and polissoirs.
After dinner we held our annual Refinishing Jeopardy tournament, with host MikeM invoking Sicilian rules more than once. Like most things Sicilian it is best not to ask too much about them. I served as the adjudicating judge for any disputed answers. Thanks to some curious scorekeeping the hilarity was sustained to the very end.
Recently while working to impose order to the library of the Barn I came across a pile of articles needing scanning and formatting for posting to the web. “Tortoiseshell and Imitation Tortoiseshell” was my contribution to a 2002 conference that required travel to Amsterdam for the presentation itself, in complete disregard to one of my personal mottoes, “If I ain’t at home, I’m in the wrong place.”
The scanned article is now in the “Conservation” section of the Writings section of the web site. There are two versions, one about 4.5 megs and another about 1.5 megs. I’m still working through the idiosyncrasies of my scanner and compewder, figuring out what settings work best. If I can get this better I will upload that version later.
With everything cut and fitted for the top it was time to git ‘er done and put it all together. Following the layout of the grid already traced on the the underside of the first face, a glue line was rapidly distributed along the delineated route.
As soon as that was done the grid was set in place, and the top of the grid was also doused with glue and the second face of the bench top was laid onto it.
By my rough estimate this provided almost 50 liner feet of 3-inch deep I-beam construction for the whole thing. It was not going to fail until there was enough stress placed on it until the wood literally exploded.
Using the sophisticated engineering for which The Barn is famous, the top assembly was clamped and the glue allowed to dry.
While that was occurring the folding legs were assembled and attached. Nothing special, certainly no elegant joinery. Just good precise work.
At that point Groopstock 2014 was done and Bill took the unit home to finish up.
I’m not one to air my truly private business excessively on the blog (at least that is my intent overall), but this current aggravation effects everything I am doing in the shop, on the homestead, with work on the store and web site, everything.
Vertigo bites big time.
I am now in my second week of this initial but inexplicable debilitating dizziness. It restricts greatly what I can do, including essentially eliminating any mobility beyond that which is biologically mandated. I note incremental improvement but nothing even close to functionality. A visit to the doctor yielded no immediate relief although I now have some head manipulation exercises to hopefully mitigate the symptoms regardless of their cause(s). Mrs. Barn helps with that and observes that my head is really heavy. Hey, you put that many rocks in the same place… At least I am not flat on my back as I was for three days last week.
Fortunately I can now work on my laptop for stretches provided I elevate the screen and hold my head absolutely motionless, but reading from an actual book is a challenge. I cannot yet perambulate up the hill to the barn and fill the outstanding orders for polissoirs, wax, and shellac flour. I’ll get them sent as soon as I can stand long enough to fulfill them. I may have to rely on Mrs. Barn to take them to the Post Office.
Patience. Good thing I like audio books, lectures, music, etc.
At long last, pure shellax wax is now available from the donsbarn.com store. I know a few of you have already found it as I have the orders in my “Pending” box to go to the Post Office next time I am in town.
Shellac wax, extracted from raw stick lac, is the second hardest of the naturally occurring waxes. Because it is so hard and tends to be brittle at cooler temperatures it is generally used as a blend with beeswax to render it more useful as a block wax. It is especially useful for polishing turnings by placing the block of blended wax directly against the surface of the rotating workpiece to melt it into the surface, followed by burnishing with a polissoir. It is also highly prized as an ingredient in paste wax/grain filler used with a polissoir.
My shellac wax is imported directly from the factory in east central India and is further refined here by molten filtering and forming into quarter-pound blocks for packaging.
Shellac wax is $19/quarter-pound, domestic shipping included. For foreign or overseas shipping please contact me.
Yesterday I read the heart-wrenching report from Rob Hanson of Evenfall Studios, recounting the almost certain devastation to his home and woodworking/toolmaking shop in Paradise CA. Fortunately he and family are safe, but all else is probably gone.
I contributed through Paypal and offered tools to him. You should too.
Think about your shop and livelihood disappearing in a moment, then think of Rob.
I am not one to take note of “mandatory” cultural celebrations, this one included. My only exceptions to this are Memorial Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas/Easter.
It is no doubt the curmudgeon in me but I fear that in general public celebratory conformity diminishes the heartfelt expressions, reducing them to mere cloying sentimentality, pushing us to compartmentalize integral appreciation into momentary self-congratulatory sanctimony, but I am thus redundant.
For veterans, the reason I do not ostentatiously note November 11 is that I strive to express my appreciation to them every day: thanking soldiers for their service and willingness to write me a check and sign it with their life-blood; anonymously paying for the dinner of a soldier and their family sitting in the opposite side of the restaurant; quietly giving money through my pastor for an airman to fly home for a much-needed but un-affordable visit to his far-absent family. Either such gestures are part of your life or they are not, the calendar does not dictate them.
I was never in the Service, even though my draft lottery number was #1. I could not pass the physical exam due to my eyesight, which was very much compromised then as now. Nevertheless I went through the advance process during my senior year of high school, taking aptitude tests and expressing my specialty preference. I was provisionally green-lit for nuclear engineering school in the US Navy, I had taken a preliminary psych test for submarine service. I was expecting to enlist right after high school but the vision thing booted me out. So be it.
Lest you think I am uncharitable in my (lack of) public celebrations, consider my attitude toward the Fourth of July. Though it is one of four public holidays I note here, any fair-minded reading of The Declaration of Independence, which to me was the very pinnacle of civic human culture, could lead to a fair conclusion that its majestic premises were abandoned generations ago. I revere the Declaration and consider myself a Declarationist first and a Constitutionalist second, but the public hoopla around July 4 rings hollow in a culture that ardently opposes its ideals across the partisan spectrum.
Even the two days most noted in faith, Christmas and Easter, do not resonate with me though I am a devout Follower of The Way. If I genuinely believe in the Incarnation and Resurrection, it affects me in every way and on every day. If not, not. No “ceremonial days” can change that.
This is a blog generally about woodworking and artistic implications of materials science, and life in the hinterlands. It is almost never about my personal tastes of food, entertainment or politics, my faith, or non-artisanal things that merely amuse me. I make no great effort to hide them either, they just are not the main point.
That said, as I sit working quietly at the compewder on this almost-wintry afternoon, waylaid by a virulent and first-ever bout of vertigo for almost a week now, I am utterly enchanted by this sometimes-whimsical Bill Frisell Group concert at Lincoln Center(?) It is majesty on display, purveyed with astonishing restraint by understated masters of the art form (as opposed the the smash-mouth brashness of another of my regular musical companions, SRV). Seriously, when was the last time you saw a non-symphonic percussionist reading a score?
Frisell is featured prominently on one of my “desert island” albums, Fluid Rustle by Eberhard Weber. I first heard Fluid Rustle in the early 80s and it is a rare week that I do not listen to it a time or two. As they might say, “I could listen to Frisell play the phone book.” Proof of that is in the hands of these maestros, even themes from James Bond movies somehow transcend the dreck that they are.
When it comes to non-destructive, non-transcendent choices you make I can be pretty sanguine, but if you cannot appreciate this, then, my friend, you are a barbarian.
Developing, or more precisely re-developing, technology that was once common practice requires lots of mental noodling sprouting from the question, “Really, how did they do that?” In the end it all comes down the the world we artisans inhabit, the world of Applied Materials Science. Fortunately for me the base material, hide glue, was plentiful in the shop so I had plenty of raw material to work with. In the pursuit of gelatin molds for cast ornamental plaster my proof-of-concept work revolved around the observations of how molten hot hide glue (the “gelatin”) actually cures into a rigid adhesive layer and the changes in physical properties while en route.
As cooked glue goes from hot liquid to hardened mass the first step is the one of greatest importance for this undertaking. At a particular point in the process — exactly where and when depends on a number of factors including the concentration of glue solids dissolved in the water, the grade of glue, the ambient temperature, relative humidity, barometric pressure, and probably phase of the moon — the molten glue mass forms a semi-solid gelatin, which is the stage I am interested in both exploiting and maintaining in stasis. As long as the mass stays flexible it can be used and re-used as a molding material.
A major concern for this practice is that the gelled/flexible mass be water resistant. Though that seems, and is, obvious the accomplishment of that feature requires a bit of forethought. If casting plaster is the end goal, and for me and the ancients it was, the mold for holding the plaster as it was poured and cured had better be able to withstand the incursion of the copious quantities of water involved.
A second consideration is that the gelled mass, once transformed from an amorphous blob into a detailed mold, be tough enough to impart said details and allow for the set plaster casting to be de-molded without destroying the mold itself.
And finally, in order to be used repeatedly the gelatin mold must be preserved over some indefinite period of time.
Reflecting back on protein chemistry and historical craft/art practice I conclude that the ancients accomplished all three of the previous items more-or-less in one step: they added the most potent protein crosslinker/preservative they could find, formaldehyde. It has long been understood that exposing or incorporating formaldehyde into collagen matrices renders them water-resistant, or “hardened.” Think embalming. Think taxidermy. Think of the ancient practice of exposing bowstrings and wrapping to the smoke of a wood fire, from which formaldehyde is a by-product.
Since formaldehyde is so noxious I do not have it in my chemical inventory and instead relied on another chemical from the world of film-based photography that performs an analogous function of crosslinking or “hardening” gelatin films. In practice I found this to be an admirable option for a couple reasons, and not so good in another, Not problematic per se, but requiring another consideration.
To be sure the photographic gelatin hardener performs admirably in imparting water-resistance and integral toughness to a gelled mass. I observed it also extends the timeline for the gelled state considerably, apparently retarding the water egress that turns gelled collagen into a hard, glass-like film. This was perhaps my (and their) first ace in the hole. A second observation beneficial to the process was that the plaster itself, being integrated into and reacted by water, served to moisten and thus keep the mold flexible Every time plaster was cast into the mold, it re-plasticized the mold mass.
However, the current safer chemistry of the gelatin hardener does not impart the same biocide/preservative effect that was accomplished previously by formaldehyde. Thus my initial mold attempt turned into a rotting mass of oozing slime in a few days. Not an un-solvable problem, but a stinky, sticky mess.
Back to the drawing board. Sorta.
Next time – Ye Whole Sheebang. This time with lots of pctures.
Those were the words of the manager of our locally owned bank as she held her finger poised over the compewder keyboard. “Once it goes, you can’t call it back.” I nodded, and she did it.
Turn the clock back several months prior as I was searching for a direct source for shellac wax in bulk. It was a Goldilocks sorta thing, most of the bulk suppliers in India wanted to sell hundreds of metric tons, and already-processed and packaged quantities here in The States were simply too expensive. One quote I got for an intermediate amount of 50 pounds was $3000 plus shipping! Earnestly I continued my search, even attempting to work through Alibaba. Finally I received a response from a small-ish (by industry yardsticks) supplier whose web site included a “Contact Us” function. What was intriguing about this response as opposed to the many others I received from similar information requests was that this came from a real person, not a bot. In every other case, I got a bot response.
As a result of that initial correspondence I requested a sample of their product, which they promised to send. Fully expecting disappointment, much to my delight a week later a sample with an analytical report arrived here in the hinterlands. It was splendid.
I melted it, cooled it, formulated some blends and products with it. It was perfect.
Further rounds of correspondence led me to the point of visiting my bank. We had negotiated the price for several hundred pounds of shellac wax, but the supplier was not plugged in to the world of credit cards nor Paypal. They dealt only in bank-to-bank direct transfers. My bank manager did some research and found out that such a transfer required going through two intermediate banks between my bank and the supplier’s bank. Since our bank was a locally owned enterprise it needed an American bank with international transaction capability, and the terminal bank at the other end was similar. Their bank needed a domestic (to them) bank to import the money and send it to them. It turned out that their funds transfer portal was a British bank based in Mumbai.
Finally those details were all ironed out and the paperwork was prepared and signed. That’s when the bank manager asked me what she did. “Are you sure?” she asked. “You can’t get it back if something goes wrong at the other end.” Given that the funds transfer involved several thousand of dollars flowing out of my account she was correct in making sure.
I took a deep breath and reflected on the risk. With the experience of the supplier complying with everything I had asked and everything they promised, I nodded my assent. She pressed the key.
Ten days later the UPS truck arrived with 500 pounds of shellac wax. I was not even home at the time, so the driver unloaded the cases into the barn himself.
In a series of interactions that eventually rested on risk and trust and eventually having to put my faith in the person at the other end of the interwebz that they would keep their word, the reward was heartening.
Thus the Age of Shellac Wax at the barn was born.
Periodically my contact in India drops me a note just asking, and one of these days I’ll respond with, “Yes, please send me another five hundred pounds.”
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