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Finally, The Chinking

The culmination of the cabin work was the application of the new chinking.  The restoration crew mixed their own on site, a mélange of lime, cement, and sand.  Forty-plus yeas of experience has led them down this path, and I was in no position to second-guess them.

With the foam insulation in place (it will remain a high performance flexible foam in perpetuity since it will be encased in the wall, protected by the UV light that turns it into rigid powder) topped over by nailed-on metal screen lath was ready to be impregnated with the cement mixture.

Once again I was delighted to have turned the project over to someone else.  Their fortitude and skill to do this kind of work at height in direct sunlight was impressive.  I ain’t a’ skeert of heights, but the going up and down just wears me out.

The result is the cabin has never looked better.  The only thing left to do on the project is the replacement of a small damaged log section next to the chimney, a final step that will be completed next week.

Now to start saving for new windows for next summer.  I can almost hardly wait for winter to get here so we can see how effective all of this work has been.

Ancient-ish Dutch Sawmill

I think my first direct interaction with Chris Schwarz was in response to his invitation to speak at Woodworking in America near Chicago ten years ago.  The topic he asked me to present was on the transition from strictly hand powered craftsmanship to machine power in woodworking,  One of the things that gave him the most satisfaction/validation was that the primary source history pushed the use of machinery for wood processing much farther back than many in the audience had previously considered.

In that vein I was delighted to stumble across this video recently, showing a reconstructed Dutch wind-powered sawmill that is in service now.  The technology, however, goes back several centuries, I believe the crankshaft technology is from the late 1500s.  This commercial sawmill is a replica of one from the mid 1600s.  It is certain that much older water-powered up-and-down sawmills existed, maybe even several centuries earlier.

Handworks 2020 – Be There Or Be (out of) Square

The Abraham boys at Benchcrafted just went live with the announcement of the next Handworks event in the wilds of central Iowa.  If you did not attend the previous iterations it is difficult to describe it concisely.  Think of Woodstock without the music or dope or other nihilistic hedonism; just multitudes of hand-tool enthusiasts and the hand tools that power them.

Stay tuned as more information with be forthcoming.  Suffice to say if you go, I will see you there.  September 4/5, 2020, Amana, Iowa.

Ready For Class

Historic Woodfinishing workshop starts in an hour or so and I’m rarin’ to go.

the classroom is all set

some show-n-tell

my ultra-high-tech syllabus

Filling The Log Voids

Once the clean-out was complete and the underlying surfaces borated it was time for the space between the logs to be filled, which was itself a two-step process.  In the first step the voids were filled with spray foam insulation to seal the spaces from air infiltration.  This step alone should make a huge difference in the coming winter.  It is my ardent desire that the new chinking, along with the insulating and sealing of the crawlspace will reduce the need for firewood substantially.

Once the spray foam insulation had firmed up it was trimmed and the chinking lath applied over it.  This was tedious and time consuming work as the stainless steel mesh had to be cut to fit the opening precisely, then nailed in place every couple inches or so.

With the lath done all that was left was to apply the cement-based chinking itself with careful troweling to finish the task.  I had gone back and forth between wanting traditional cement based chinking and newer silicone based synthetics, but Tim the contractor has been using the cement based system for about forty years with great success, so that is the path we took.

In the end we thought the job looked terrific and would perform excellently as all the steps leading up to completion were conscientiously and skillfully executed.  I am especially pleased to get chinking with a fitted undercut so it does not act like a rain gutter on the side of the house as had been the case with the previous chinking.

It is nice to be here long enough to finally connect with the network of craftsmen here.  In such an insular community it is a slow process, but we are getting there.  And for this project all we had to do was find the right crew and sign the check (which was more than the cost of my first house!).

We are hoping that the big project for next summer will be the replacing of all the windows to install new high efficiency ones.  But for now, the cabin has never looked better and was never more weather-tight.

 

There’s just one little area of repair to complete this week, but overall we are mighty pleased.

 

Eau de Payreee, c.Roubo

Whenever I am working on a project and encounter an impasse I do not stop working, I simply work on something else for a time until I can get back in the groove for the original undertaking.  Such has been the case with A Period Finisher’s Manual, which has turned out to be much more of a grind than I was expecting.  Even when taking a break from APFM and blogging I do not necessarily stop writing, I simply write about something else.  Recently that “something” has been some fiction projects, one being some dalliances into Christological fiction regarding Joshua bar Joseph the young craftsman, and another being a panoramic thriller in which the Paris of Roubo’s time is a prime setting.  In researching that topic I began reading David Garrioch’s The Making of Revolutionary Paris.  Though not especially pertinent (yet) to my story line I found this passage compelling.  In it, Garrioch is describing the city’s odors that blind beggars used for navigational aids.

They cannot see and do not heed the summer sun shining on the tall whitewashed houses that makes the eastbound coachmen squint under their broad-brimmed hats.  Nor do they see the flowers in pots on upper-story window ledges, the washing hanging on long rods projecting from the upper windows, or the colors of the cloth displayed for sale outside the innumerable drapers’ shops in the rue de St-Honore.  But they are sensitive, more than other city dwellers, to the fragrances of apples and pears of many varieties (many that the twentieth century does not know) , of apricots and peaches in season: to the reek of freshwater fish that has been too long out of the water; to the odor of different cheeses — Brie and fresh or dried goat cheese.  The street sellers display these and other  produce on tables wherever there is space to set up a portable stall.  For the blind the smells are signposts, markers not only of the seasons but also of the urban landscape.  They recognize the pervasive sweetness of cherries on the summer air or the garden smell of fresh cabbages in winter, marking the stall of the woman who sells fruits or vegetables at the gateway of the Feuillants monastery in the rue de St-Honore near the Place Vendome.  The aroma of roasting meat from a rotisseur in a familiar street, the smell of stale beer at the door of a tavern, the sudden stench of urine at the entrance of certain narrow alleyways; these are the landmarks by which the sightless navigate.

In the early eighteenth century there was no escape anywhere in Paris from the pungency of horse droppings or the foulness of canine or human excrement.  Like human body odor, it was ever-present but normally unremarked.  Some quarters, though, were distinguished by other, more particular smells.  The central market — les Halles — was unmistakable, with its olfactory cocktails of fruit, vegetables, grain, cheese, and bread.  “It is common knowledge,” wrote an eighteenth century critic, that “the whole quarter of the Halles is inconvenienced by the fetid odor of the herb market and the fish market: add to that the excrement, and the steaming sweat of an infinite number of bests of burden.”  Even when the market was over the odors lingered.  The stink of fish bathed the arc of streets from the rue de la Cossonnerie to the rue de Montorgueil and St-Eustache.  To the south, rotting herbs and vegetables polluted rue de la Langerie, th rue St-Honore, the rue aux Fers.  Worse exhalations rose from the neighboring Cimetiere des Innocents, from the huge pits where only a sprinkling of lime covered a top layer of bodies already beginning to decompose.  In the summer only the hardiest inhabitants overlooking the cemetery dared open their windows.

Other neighborhoods had different smells to contend with.  Around the river end of the rue St-Denis were streets here the passers-by were overwhelmed by the smell or drying blood: “it cakes under your feet, and your shoes are red.”  The beasts once killed, the tallow-melting houses near the slaughterhouses produced even fouler and more pervasive odor.  Through the archway under the Grand Chatelet prison and along the quais of the city center the air was heavy (especially in the summer) from the effluent of the great sewers that oozed into the Seine between the Pont Notre-Dame and the Pont-au-Change.  Even in the otherwise pleasant gardens of the Tuileries, a witness tells us, “the terraces .. become unapproachable because of the stink that came from them … .  All the city’s defecators lined up beneath the yew hedge and relieved themselves.”

Ahh, Paris, the city of romance.

Cleaning A Brazed/Soldered Joint (Making Roubo Squares sidebar)

I use some version of the following techniques for cleaning the interior corners of a soldered/brazed joint such as that created at the shoe-and-beam joint for the Roubo squares.  If my brazing technique is on its game this only takes a couple minutes from start to finish.  If not, more minutes.  Actually, were I a better metalsmith there would be no cleanup at all, but this is the kind of joint I usually have after the torch work.

My first step is to clean the excess solder with a half-round Vixen file, which is the metalworking version of a float.  I lay the flat side of the file down flat on the workpiece and press the edge between the flat and half-round sides into the joint to remove any excess.  Then I repeat it on the other flat face.

Once any excess solder is cleaned off I strike the joint with a diamond shaped burin, or engraver, to establish a nice clean corner.  The spatial circumstance of the task does not allow for me to hold the burin properly, I just hold it sorta like a paring chisel.

Finally I find the halfway angle for a triangle fie and undercut the joint ever so slightly for an elegantly clean look.

After that I’ve got a nice surface ready for polishing with a light abrasive to make it finished.  Once I get the edges finished this one will be ready to go.

7 More Gigs “In The Can”

A few weeks ago Chris Swecker and I spent anther couple days documenting the ongoing construction of a pair of Gragg Chairs I am building for clients, one a renowned furniture historian in Virginia and the other a historic architectural millwork contractor in Georgia.   (These clients have been most patient with the timeline of this project, which is why I have not made them pay anything until the chairs are delivered.)  Neither my bank account nor the other ongoing projects I have permit any faster pace of work, and we had to take a 5-month break over the winter due to the unheated-ness of the studio space.

As we were working the chairs began to take shape beyond merely the jumbled pile of steam bent parts.  Actually they were never really “jumbled,” but they were not truly assembled either.  It was exciting for Chris to see these former tree parts become chair-ish right before the camera.  Beginning with the dry assembled side elements I laid out the side rungs and chopped the mortises and cut the tenons.   Then I resembled the side units with screws and glue, just as Gragg had done 200 years before.

Then came perhaps the most visually appealing portion of the project to date as the two sides were connected with the lateral horizontal elements, becoming something that sorta looked like a chair.  This required a bucket full of spring clamps and a few diagonal struts to keep things in the right configuration while moving forward.

By the time the two days were done we had another 7 gigabytes of video recorded.  We are working so efficiently that I expect a yield of usable video to raw recording to be about 60%.  In reviewing the completed materials I am thinking the finished product to be in the 10-12 hour range.

Fruition

Many years ago when Knew Concepts saws burst onto the marketplace I met and was befriended by the gurus behind them, Lee Marshall and Brian Meek.  There are not many tools that can change the way I work, but their saws did.  As an outgrowth of our friendship I began to collaborate with them to refine their products and even begin down the road of developing whole new tools.

One of the tools I encouraged them create was a vertical oriented marquetry chevalet.  Yes, I know that traditionalist and purists might snort at me for that position, but let me explain to you how much I care about that.  (Cue the sound of crickets.)  You can find my tale of encountering their initial engineering design prototype here.

Now for a little more background.

I have been cutting veneers for more than forty years, almost always in the context of repairing or replacing missing marquetry or plain veneers.  I learned to cut it on a horizontal bench pin using a jeweler’s frame saw freehand in the vertical orientation.

Once I got to use a traditional chevalet, a hand powered machine that interestingly enough post-dates what many think was the Golden Age of Marquetry, my experience and muscle memory/work habits left me unimpressed with my own skill with the tool.  I have seen others use it in a manner that could only be described as magnificent, but I have never developed a facility with the device to make it my default tool.  (It might very well be the result of me not having thousands of hours behind the wheel, so to speak, with an intimidating task master peering over my shoulder.  By the time I got to use a full-scale chevalet I was long passed the point of being intimidated about much of anything.  Once you go nose-to-nose with a bind drunk idiot neighbor shooting a revolver in his back yard while my kids were playing in my back yard, everything else takes its proper place in the hierarchy of intimidation.)  Instead, I always reverted to my older method in which I had honed my skills.

Once I saw Steve Latta demonstrate his version of a bench-top horizontal action chevalet I built my own, and I got better results with that than with the full scale, sit down version.  Not yet great, but better.  Still, I could see some great possibilities based on my execution of the concept.

Back to Knew Concepts.  I was attracted not only to their jeweler’s saw frames but practically swooned once I learned of their Mark Series of fixed-orientation saws.  I had to have one!  I got one and again it changed the way I could work in the marquetry techniques I used, mostly Boullework style and double-bevel style.  The Mark Series saw made cutting small pieces of marquetry (about a 6″ size limit) practically idiot-proof, and sometime I can be a pretty high-powered idiot.

Lee and Brian and I continued to correspond and meet at various woodworking tool events, and eventually I convinced them to give it a try.  Our dinners together always seemed to result in a stack of napkins covered in design drawings and spec lists. Brian came to see me in DC, well actually he came to see my bench top chevalet — I was incidental to the trip (not really, I always thoroughly enjoyed my interactions with Lee ad Brian, both creatively and socially) — and he returned to Crazyfornia to begin designing a saw incorporating and fusing all our ideas.  Soon computer generated design drawings were flying back and forth across the continent.

Then came the Woodworking in America 2016 when Lee promised to “show you something special.”  I could practically see the twinkle in his eye just from the email.  As I phrased it at the time,

“I encountered the working concept prototype whose gestation was several years, and as I worked with the tool I felt, more than heard, a thunderclap.  Everything that had been was now no more.”

Shortly thereafter Lee fell gravely ill, and eventually passed away.  Brian took the helm of the enterprise and the process of transition took all of his time and energy, and then some.  We corresponded infrequently for a couple years, then a few months ago it picked up again and I asked him if the bench top vertical-cut chevalet was ever going to become a production reality.  Knowing how swamped he was I sorta expected a note of the “Man I am just too busy to think about it,” variety.  Imagine my delight when instead he wrote back and told me they were in the home stretch of the initial production prototype.

Last week a couple packages arrived arrived, and it is better than Christmas at the Barn on White Run these days.  A whole lotta time, energy, and ideas have come to fruition.

Stay tuned.

Making Roubo Squares – Day 3

 

Day 3 was almost entirely a continuation of Day 2, bringing the squares closer to completion.  It was pretty insistent that each student had at least one square all the way done to guide them once they got back home.  I’m pretty sure each of them headed hme with at least a couple finished.

There was a little sawing as the shoes were trimmed as necessary following their brazing.

The sounds of filing and sanding permeated the air as squares were trued, followed by the gentler sanding with finer paper in getting the surfaces polished to the point of being “done.”

As we continued our work we were able to reflect on a grand time of fellowship and learning.

Thanks for a great workshop, gentlemen.  Counting my own projects, I think the grand total for the weekend was 30 squares, eight or nine triangles, and several pounds of scraps and filings.

Now it’s time to turn my attentions to this month’s workshop on Historic Finishing.