With the sanding putty smoothed I concocted the top coat of paint and applied three coats of it. The base for this paint was 2 parts Zinsser oil-based primer and one part gloss Pratt and Lambert 38 varnish, tinted with yellow ochre powder pigments to match the color I wanted. The remaining historic Gragg chairs have a range of base coloration somewhere in the same zip code, and it is pretty much the chromatic neighborhood where my chairs will reside as long as I make them.
The combination of flat primer and gloss varnish yielded a nice satin surface, smooth enough for further work but with just enough tooth to hold the pinstriping and peacock feather decoration yet to come.
Finally comes the time for priming the Gragg chairs, the foundation for the decoration to come. In my earlier Gragg exercises I used a gesso base followed by pigmented shellac, but that was before the technical analysis of the original Gragg paint was conducted. This analysis revealed his work to be almost entirely executed in oil paint. I have revised my current procedures to reflect that newer knowledge.
My scheme for the early finishing schedule is roughly as follows:
Fill the most egregious voids with putty. I made my own putty my mixing some of the oil primer with additional whiting until I got a thick paste.
After sanding off any excess putty, prime the surface with a solid coat of Zinsser shellac-based white primer.
Once that primer coat is dry, apply two coats of Brushing Putty from Fine Paints of Europe. I tinted this with a little yellow ochre.
Once these two coats are fully dried, sand the surface completely with 120 sandpaper.
Finally, apply two coats of flat white oil paint strongly tinted with dry yellow ochre pigment. Somehow I failed to get a picture of this final prep, or it is on my other camera.
Unfortunately, due to the competition between my calendar and Chris’ calendar we did not get these steps on video camera. We will have to film it on the next chair.
It’s been almost thirteen years since the skeleton of the barn was erected, nine years since it was outfitted with the first of more than a dozen workbenches, and over six years since the first blog post. Now safely ensconced in my 65th year, lately I’ve been contemplating the entire enterprise, reflecting on how blessed I have been and continue to be. Whether it is good news or bad news, after serious consideration I have no plans to change the fundamental structure of activity on the homestead for several more years, but at some point life in the mountains will simply become too physically taxing and the barn and cabin will be in my rear-view mirror. Until then, however, it is still full(?) speed ahead with a big smile on my face, albeit not necessarily in the exact same direction nor the exact same speed. I’m working just as hard as I did when I was 30, but the output is demonstrably less. My Mom is 102 and lucid so I’ve got to think about another forty years of engagement and productivity.
Here is a sketch of what future activities might look like. No telling if it is accurate.
Conservation Projects
Early on I maintained a fairly vibrant furniture and decorative arts conservation practice but have no plans to continue much of that except for specific projects and clients. Yes, I will continue to work with the private collection of tortoiseshell boxes that I’ve been working on for more than a decade. Recently I was approached to collaborate on a couple high profile on-site projects and if those move forward, fine. I love it but at this point I’ve got other things I want to do on the priority list. And I want to truly perfect my artificial tortoisehell. And I want to explore new uses of materials in furniture preservation. And invent new materials, or novel uses of existing materials. And, and, and…
Making Furniture
I make no claim as a furniture maker of any note, but I hope to concentrate on making more in the future. I would love to maintain a small output of Gragg chairs every year, and even modify them and take them in directions Samuel Gragg never went. I also have enough vintage mahogany for eight more Daniel Webster Desks, so perhaps there are some clients who might want one. Only time will tell. I’ve always had a hankering to make some furniture in the milieu of Charles Rennie Mackintosh or Alar Aalto, so maybe that becomes part of the equation. And I have these sketches for pieces representing a collision of Roubo and Krenov while they are sitting on the porch of a Japanese temple. And Mrs. Barn has a list of things she would like for the cabin. And exploring parquetry more intensely. And finally get pretty good at woodworking in general. And, and, and…
Metal Work
I’ve always had a interest in metalworking since my boyhood when I would spend time with my Dad in his shed, melting lead weights and doing a little brazing and welding. Many of those skills have grown fallow but I am trying to get them back and take them to new places. My love of tool making has been rearing its lovely head in recent times and I have every intention of bringing that focus closer to the bullseye. And part of that has to include getting my foundry back on-line. And tuning up all my machine tools like my machinists’ lathes and mill. And getting really good at brazing and silver soldering, maybe even welding. And, and, and…
Finishing Adventures
I remain committed to looking both backwards and forwards into the realm of finishing materials, ancient and super modern. I truly believe Mel’s Wax to be a transformative furniture care and preservation product for which I have not yet discovered the key to marketing. But I will keep at it because of my knowledge of its performance and my commitment to Mel’s vision for it. And as for beeswax and shellac wax? Finishing with them may be among the oldest and simplest methods, but they can be extremely difficult and I cannot pretend to have mastered them. And what about my fascination with urushi and its non-allergenic analogs and the beautiful things I want to make from them? And what about the fifty bazillion things I do not know about shellac?And, and and…
Writing
My plate of writing projects is full to overflowing, building on a strong foundation of completed works. Notwithstanding my current struggles with the manuscript for A Period Finisher’s Manual, due entirely to my having too much esoteric material to include in a reasonably consumable book (really, how much solvent thermodynamics does the typical woodworker need to know?), I enjoy every minute I am writing even when it is driving me crazy. I’d better because my collaborator Michele Pagan is one full book ahead of me in the Roubo Series. And there are two or three more volumes after that one. And some day I need to finish the almost-completed manuscript for A Furniture Conservation Primer created with a colleague while at the SI and thus will be necessarily distributed for free via the web site. And what about my treatise on the technology and preservation of ivory and tortoiseshell? And the dozen mystery/thriller novels I have already plotted out? And who knows how many short stories about the life of First Century craftsman Joshua BarJoseph? And, and, and…
Web
My first of almost 1,200 web posts went up six-and-a-half years ago, which I understand in the world of hobbyist blogging, where blogs come and go like the tides, puts me as some sort of Methuselah. But certainly not in the same class as The Accidental Woodworker, who has been blogging daily for even longer IIRC. Ralph, I tip my hat to you, sir.
I once thought the web site/blog would be a useful portal for soliloquies about my projects and things I’ve learned over a long and rewarding career, but now I am not so sure. A while back I decided to make a concerted effort to blog at least five times a week for a year, and I think I came pretty close. Surely this would increase my web traffic! Well, not so much. At the end of this effort my web traffic was 2% lower than when it began. Despite fairly consistent blogging my visitorship has dropped by almost half over the past four-plus years. So I just scratch my head. I’m not whining, but instead recognizing that the flock who is interested in my musings is shrinking, not growing. Oh well. This is not a good or bad thing, it is just a thing, helpful in me making decisions about priorities. I have no plans to really change anything about the blog, we’ll just wait and see where it goes.When I am not somewhere else, with someone else, or doing something else, I will blog.
Recently I was chatting with someone who informed me that web sites and blogs are now passe and the currency du jour is the unholy trio of Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter. Given that and my antipathy towards the latter two it is likely that I will undertake the former at some near date (yes, I know the relationship between Instagram and Stalkerbook) . Something inside me rebels at the notion of validating the post-literate world, however. Still, the economic treatise presented by Larry the Liquidator is not only dramatic but accurate. Even the Professional Refinisher’s Group is moving forward, transitioning from a moderated email forum to a private Facebook Group, which will leave me behind. But they will survive without me and I intend to maintain contact with that circle of fellowship regardless.
Trouble is, I am by temperament a bizarre mélange of buggy whip maker and hardline “emergent order” Hayekian. Hmmm. Not really sure how that works out.
Workshops
Integral to my vision for the barn was to have it be a place of learning. As the facility was coming together, whenever I spoke to any kind of woodworking gathering the verbal response was overwhelmingly enthusiastic. The reality that unfolded was anything but. I now realize that my vision was a faulty one and the enthusiasm was superficial. Quite bluntly, almost no one wants to come to such an isolated location where local amenities are practically nonexistent, to spend a few days engaging in subjects I want to teach. Fair enough, the barn is too remote and my topics are too arcane. Like I said before, this is not a good thing or a bad thing, but just an instructive thing to add to the equation.
As a result and in recognition of reality I plan to deemphasize workshops at the barn, perhaps even eliminating them altogether, notwithstanding that I created dedicated spaces for the undertaking. Should a small group of enthusiasts approach me with the request to teach them, I will do so. That is precisely what a quartet of guys have done for next June. And, I might do an occasional blockbuster-type workshop (a Gragg chair class would be such an example, if that ever occurs; I had thought a ripple molding machine class might be such an event, but with zero response…), or I might travel a bit to teach but otherwise that part of the portfolio is likely to close. Not definitely, but likely.
Videos
Hence my transition to teaching via video. If I cannot get folks to come here perhaps my best strategy is to go to them. I have a multitude of ideas (more than twenty full-length [>30 mins.]video concepts on the list) and a brilliant local collaborator to work with. I am committed to this path to the degree that I have the time, energy, and resources.
Further I have decided that making shorter, self-produced and thus less polished “shop technique videos” might be a useful undertaking to post on donsbarn.com, youtube or Vimeo. I will explore this avenue in the coming weeks and months.
The Homestead
With several buildings, several gardens, and a power system to maintain and improve there is never a shortage of things to do here on the homestead. I want to build/expand more garden capacity for Mrs. Barn to spend time doing the thing she loves best. And fruit and nut orchards. And I want to finish creating a rifle scope for shooters like me who have lost most of the vision in their dominant eye. And another hydro turbine downstream from the current one.
And, and, and that’s all I’ve got to say on the subject.
That is The State of the Barn Address, 2019. To quote one of Mel’s favorite songs, “The future’s so bright I gotta wear shades.” Yes it is. I am living the dream.
You can find the background on this initial offering by Barn Attic Productions/Seed and Fruit Media here. I am working on getting an archive for all these videos on the site. Be patient with me, I am of an age and disposition that I still expect flames to shoot out of the compewder if I hit the wrong key.
In this episode of my recitation and demonstration of the techniques I use to undertake sensitive veneer repairs — sensitive to the artifacts, not your feelings — such that the compensation (that’s museum-ese for “repair”) is visual harmonious while leaving the maximum of the artifact fabric intact, I demonstrate my low-intensity method for cutting my own veneers on a bench-top bandsaw. I use this method frequently for a variety of applications, whether I need that one special piece of figured veneer for a repair or if I am cranking out veneer strips for doing French parquetry.
If your conscience is pricked by viewing this for no cost feel free to click on the “Donate” button, any proceeds from which will go toward enhancing the rapidity of producing new videos. For those of you who have already shown that generous spirit, I am deeply appreciative.
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.
A couple months ago I was sent a question about using gelatin molds for casting architectural plaster. I had seen references to the technology in several of my old books but did not possess any that provided a decent description of the material or the process, so I noodled it a bit. I’m not an architectural historian per se, so there might be plenty of old books with the exact information.
For the past almost forty years I have relied on silicone RTV molding rubber and never saw the need to broaden that horizon, but this question prompted me to undertake some exploring. I am awfully glad I did as I now have another potent arrow in the quiver.
Of course at issue were several considerations.
The gelatin (hide glue) would need to be used in the semi-cured state, in other words after it had gelled and had not yet lost enough water to enter the more solid phase of a dried, cured mass.
The gelatin mold had to be firm/flexible enough to actually cast plaster into it, then have the casting de-molded ex poste.
The mold needed to be robust enough for repeated using. The literature references using the molds dozens or even hundreds of times.
Finally, the mold needed to remain viable while not becoming a giant fur-ball of mold.
Thanks to a timely failure of a tordonshell batch I gleaned the path to success, when combining that experience with some noumena from my wanderings into materials science. The ultimate result was a high performance molding material that was also cheap.
The trek included a number of face palm moments in discovering new ways of working.
By the third and final day everyone was charging ahead, in the groove, and making great progress on the second exercise, a three-part composition of tordonshell, pewter sheet, and brass sheet.
Again, the critical thing given the assembly of our packets was to begin sawing in the center of the design and working you way out systematically. As things progressed it was very exciting to see the composition(s) taking shape.
Honestly there is not a lot to say verbally, so I’ll just let the pictures do the talking.
Day 2 was a time to really get down to business with sawing the first exercise, a two-part tarsia a incastro composition with each person doing a decorative rendition of their own initial (in reverse).
Soon everyone was adopting their preferred sawing posture.
Unfortunately we got Gwen’s initial relationship to her sawing station wrong, and before too long an old neck injury reared its ugly head. Even after adjusting her posture and sawing height, the damage was already done, limiting her experience considerably.
Before long the compositions of the mirror representations for their initial were taking shape.
By the end of the day we were all moving on to our second exercises, a three-part composition requiring three layers of media, pewter, brass, and tordonshell, and two supporting bookends of 1/8″ plywood.
Drilling a tiny hole near the center of the pattern for feeding the saw blade through, And we were off and running with the new project.
I have settled on the topics and approximate schedule for next summer’s classes here in the hinterlands, with three of the four classes emphasizing toolmaking. I will post about them in greater detail in the near future. One minor change I’ll be instituting next year is that three-day workshops will now be Thursday-Friday-Saturday rather than Friday-Saturday-Sunday as before.
June’s class will be a metalworking event, Making A Nested Set of Roubo’s Squares. The objective will be for each attendee to create a set of four or five solid brass footed squares, the sort illustrated in Roubo’s Plate 308, Figure 2. The special emphasis will be on silver soldering, a transforming skill for the toolmaker’s shop. The tentative dates for this are June 6-8 or 20-22, $375 + $25 for materials.
July’s class will be my annual offering of Historic Wood Finishing. Each participant will complete a series of exercises I have devised for the most efficient learning experience to overcome finishing fears and difficulties. Of particular importance are the aspects of surface preparation and the use and application of wax and spirit varnish finishes using the techniques of the 1700s. Probably July 11-13, $375.
In August we will continue the pursuit of Roubo’s tool kit, this time Making and Using Roubo’s Shoulder Knife. I have no way to know exactly how prevalent was this tool’s use in ancient days, but I suspect more than I can imagine. Each participant will fabricate a shoulder knife to fit their own torso, so its use can be both the most comfortable and the most effective. Probably August 15-17, $375.
The final class for the year will be a week-long Build A Ripple Molding Cutter. As I have been pursuing this topic and blogging about it, fellow ripple-ista John Hurn and I have settled on a compact design we think can be built by every attendee in a five-day session. Together we will be teaching the process of ripple moldings and fabricating the machines that make them. September 23-27, $750 plus $200 materials fee.
Save the dates and drop me a line for more information.
Every three or four years I teach my approach to Boullework, a branch of marquetry technically known by its original Italian title of tarsia a incastro (literally “interlocking inlay”) that was so prominent in the 17th and 18th Centuries . This identifier probably comes from the fact that all the elements of the composition — positive, negative, and sometimes additional accents — are cut simultaneously and do in fact “interlock” with each other. I always cut my marquetry vertically by free-form rather than horizontally on the chevalet, due to the fact that I have almost fifty years of muscle memory doing it the way I do it. This approach also has the advantage of allowing newcomers to begin work with only a flat board as a sawing platform, a frame saw, and some tiny saw blades, investing very little resources to begin.
My approach also has the component of using a persuasive imitation tortoiseshell (nicknamed “tordonshell) I invented several years ago to compensate for the fact that true sea turtle shell is a proscribed material as a result of the world-wide adoption of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species adopted in 1975, essentially forbidding any commerce or other transactions involving the two species of turtle shells integral to Boullework.
That is where the three-day workshop begins, with a brief chemistry/materials science lesson on protein macro-molecules and their polymerization and the morphology of tortoiseshell.
Using materials I prepared in advance, and the addition of ingredients at the moment, the attendees begin the lengthy process of making their own to take home with them afterward (this recounting of that is condensed from work over the three days).
First they cast out a film that would become tordonshell, then created the pattern endemic to the material.
After watching me make a piece they set about to making their own. The results were gratifying.
The process took them the three days to get finished, in part because the chemistry was fighting me. In all the times I’ve made tordonshell I had not wrestled with the fundamental exothermic nature of the polymerization, but it was sure rearing its ugly head this time.
We then assembled 4″ x 4″ packets to saw (I was working alongside the attendees, I find they like me to be working on the same type project so they can peek over my should if necessary), consisting of a 1/32″ annealed brass sheet, a piece of tordonshell, and a 1/8″ plywood support. All of this was wrapped with veneer tape and the mirror-pattern of their initial was glued on to the surface with stick glue.
This approach requires beginning the sawing at the center of the composition, so a tiny hole had to be drilled with my ancient mini-eggbeater drill.
Once that was completed the saw frame was set-up and a 0000 blade was fed through the hole and the frame tightened down. this can be a frustrating task the first time, requiring four hands until you get the hang of it.. After that, no problem.
After waxing the backside of the blade the sawing (and blade breaking) began in earnest. There is a real “touch” to sawing like this, so indeed the blades were snapping right and left. Not a problem, I was expecting it. I provided the tools and blades for the most part, but John had recently purchased a new Knew Concepts saw and was giving it its first road test.
Joe had an intriguing saw from Green Lion, I only wish I’d had a chance to test drive it myself but Joe kept it busy. I think I may have to get one, just to round out my inventory. For the most part the others used Knew Concepts saws from my collection.
The sawing continued apace until Mrs. Barn called us to supper.
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