As a general rule, in olden days paste wax was made from one of two recipes — Beeswax melted into Spirits of Turpentine (what we call simply turpentine), or beeswax melted into tallow. I’ve made much of Version 1 in the paste but not so much of Version 2. So, to best talk to visitors about the finishing processes of the past at the recent 18th Century Trades Fair I made a good batch of tallow/beeswax paste, and I gotta tell you it was magnificent! I think it actually has some advantages over the turpentine/beeswax solvent paste, namely that it does not have a volatile component to evaporate, is basically odorless (may not be an “advantage” for those who like the fragrance of turpentine), and it is harder in the jar than the turpentine beeswax paste. This means that the doling out can be more easily controlled and that less is used to accomplish the same goals as with the solvent paste. I especially like the feel of the tallow paste wax and have been using it on my tools to great success.
I like it so much I just might make a batch of it to share with others who might like to try some. If this is you, let me know.
N.B. Things have been crazy busy in a wonderful way and I’m looking forward to a more sedate pace in the coming days. Stay tuned. — DCW
Three weeks ago I gathered with 10 novitiate varnishistas from around the country for a three-day romp down the long and winding trail of historic woodfinishing hosted by Joshua Farnsworth at his Wood and Shop facility near Charlottesville VA. Over the years I have evolved a very tight syllabus to make sure every participant leaves with a set of successful exercises under their belts, or fingernails as the case may be. This solid foundation allows me to work around the edges and incorporate some new things as I did this year, with mixed success.
A large part of the course success is due to the fact that I supply EVERYTHING for the students to use. Though that is a substantial undertaking it does guarantee a greater chance of success than if I mail out a supplies-and-tools list. After a couple experiences of wasting several hours of class time scrounging up supplies, tools, and projects for the students who forgot them I tossed that concept overboard many years ago.
The routine should be fairly familiar to anyone who follows this blog, so this year I will simply be posting a gallery of images to capsulize the three days. There is no way a few pictures can convey fully the richness of the event from either a learning or fellowship perspective, plus there were many portions where I had no pictures because I was, well, teaching. There are entire exercises that were not included in the photos.
Smoothing the 24″ x 48″ birch plywood panels in preparation for fifteen coats of 1-1/2-pound lemon shellac.
Shellac makes its first appearance
The end of the “first inning” (five brushed coats of shellac)
After drying for several hours, we ended Day 1 with a light scuffing of 220 sandpaper followed by another five brush coats of shellac.
After drying overnight following the “second inning,” the surface was uniformly scraped, followed by a “third inning” of five coats and set aside to dry for 24 hours.
The final steps for the large panel included dividing it into quadrants, each of which was treated differently. This quadrant was dry-pumiced in preparation for shellac pad polishing.
Final shellac varnish pad polishing.
A second quadrant was polished with tripoli (rottenstone) in white spirits, the third was rubbed strenuously with Liberson 0000 steel wool saturated with paste wax, and the fourth was left “off the brush.”
Smoothing a mahogany panel with a pumice block.
Working the mahogany panel with a 1″ x 1/8″ polissoir, followed by molten beeswax (scraped clean) as a grain filler.
Making and using a linen pounce/pad to apply the 1/2-pound shellac varnish.
Building the padded shellac varnish.
Burnishing an embossed molding with the Carver’s Model polissoir, followed by a few coats of brushed shellac.
Revisiting the shellacked surface with the Carver’s Polissoir.
Applying asphalt glazing to half of the molding piece.
Feathering out the asphalt glazing with a badger brush.
Comparing the appearance of five coats each of Bullseye Amber and Bullseye Clear from the hardware store.
A classroom full of busy varnishers.
And much, much more.
So there’s a snapshot (pun intended) of the recent gathering. I know we will have the class again next summer at the school in Earlysville VA.
Perhaps it’s an age thing, perhaps it’s a “working alone” thing, but I have had a lot of time reminiscing lately while up in the barn.
50+ years ago when as a teen and newly arrived into a real-live cabinet shop I was introduced to the deep-seated passions of European craftsmen. Prior to that I was a “scratch and dent” man at a couple of furniture stores, which, though a legitimate service, is not the same as working alongside men with years of apprentice training and decades of life on the job.
This shop was operated by a New Yawker of Greek heritage and produced amazing interiors with frame-and-panel rooms, carved detailing, and exquisite finishing. (I was an underling in the finishing room; they did not consider my week(?) at a Mohawk workshop to be really valid for what they did and trained me in their way of doing things enough that I could next catch on to the Schindler’s shop where I spent the following few years) Since the talent pool in south Florida was not up to his standards the owner hired guys from Long Island to come and work there, they were amazing craftsmen/artists.
Hans was a German-trained cabinetmaker in charge of that side of things. Joe was an Italian who was my boss in the finishing room. Both men were incredibly generous in teaching me what they knew at a level I was able to learn, and sometimes that created conflict between them when Hans said one thing and Joe said another. I mean, real conflict to the point where the big boss had to step in and send them back to their corners.
Perhaps the most intense quarrel I recall was about how to fold sandpaper. Really. Hans was insistent on the “quartering” method of preparing and using sandpaper. In this technique the sandpaper was twice folded in half along the perpendicular center lines, then cut to the cross-fold along one line then folded into a stacked quarter. According to him, this was the only way a REAL craftsman used sandpaper.
Joe bristled at both this method and the insinuation that he was not a REAL craftsman (they were both just shy of magicians in their work). According to Joe the only true method for preparing and using sandpaper was to cut the sheet in half along the short axis, then fold the paper twice to yield three identical sections when folded over. To be honest a version of this method is the one I have used more often in the subsequent five decades.
But the experience of watching two late-middle-aged men almost coming to blows over how to cut, fold, and use sandpaper was indelibly burned into my memory and provided a lot of insight into the human condition. If we want to, we can gin up conflict over the most inconsequential things while letting the existential stuff slide by with barely a notice.
Design? Pshaw. Construction details? Shrug. Finishing schedule? Whatever.
These are the handouts of the syllabus for the upcoming Introduction to Historic Woodfinishing workshop, honed over the years and the dozens of times I’ve taught the workshop. About the only changes I make any more are if the course schedule is truncated to be shorter than the three days I have here.
In my collection of 3,000+ vinyl albums is the Pink Floyd double live album Ummagumma, with the memorable photograph of their traveling equipment artistically arranged on a landing strip.
It is reminiscent of my own preparations for my upcoming Introduction to Historic Woodfinishing next week in Earlysville VA. As I’ve said previously, I found out long ago that the only way I could make the workshop complete and beneficial for all the attendees was to provide absolutely everything they need, in terms of workpieces, tools, and supplies. And that adds up to quite a pile of materials.
At this point I’m about 2/3 of the way there. All I know is that by the time I pull out of here next Wednesday the bed of my truck will be full.
Whew! Concluding a few months of mostly traveling we got back to Shangri-la late Sunday evening after driving non-stop from Alabama, where L’il T’s family just moved (we were “helping,” a/k/a grandparenting L’il T and his brother). Travel advisory — avoid Chattanooga if at all possible, the construction and attendant constriction made it a more than an hour of stop and go experience at 97 degrees.
I am looking forward to resuming some semblance of norma life, including full days in the shop. This is made possible by the cessation of travel for most of the foreseeable future, along with finding a sturdy Mennonite lad to do most of the yard work. We were spending 3-4 days a week just keeping the grass cut, brush beat back, and trimming the edges. This young man could do what is necessary in 3-4 hours, rather than 3-4 days. Oh, to have the exuberance and fortitude of the young! That plus a $10k lawnmower makes a big difference.
Other than routine chores around the homestead I’ll be preparing for a Labor Day Weekend shindig at my friend Tim’s place, celebrating the historic crafts of our ancestors. I’ll be assembling a vintage-form tool kit to fit into my antique cabinetmaker’s tool chest which has been used as storage for the past couple decades. So, I’ll be there with tools and one of my Nicholson workbenches, in period costume, probably making a small dowry chest. If you are in the region, stop on by.
And resuming work on my magnum opus tool cabinet, and oh by the way L’il T is now big enough to use a step stool to wash his hands and brush his teeth. The ones I made for his mom and aunt are still in service after 35+ years.
And my traveling tool kit needs completing. As do a couple of Gragg chairs. And those half-finished Studley mallet exercises, and the patterns for the genuine replicas. And the custom oculars for my rifle scopes, bypassing the now nearly defunct right eye (dominant). And the boat load of writing and editing staring me in the face. And setting up a video system to make in-shop vids after I get the Gragg video edited. And tuning my ripple molder.
This is the original DVD case cover art. I’m leaving the front pretty much alone but reworking the back extensively.
One of the ongoing headaches(?) has been the inability to resupply my inventory for the historic woodfinishing video F&W Media (PopWood) produced several years ago, which I had available on the donsbarn.com website store. The new company that now owns PopWood discontinued the hard copies of the DVD and no longer even had “new old stock” copies in the warehouse. After some back-and-forth the new company released the video to me gratis, for which I am most appreciative. At Handworks 2023 the editor-in-chief made a point of confirming our earlier correspondence; my F&W videos were now my intellectual property to use as I saw fit.
The urgency of me acting on this came to a head a few months ago when my final copy was sold. Since then I have been noodling the revisions of the original DVD cover and am now ready to send it off for reproduction after I let it ruminate for a couple days. While the DVD content was now my property I had no desire to disavow F&W from the picture as they truly deserve all the credit for producing it in the first place. Thus I am keeping the bones of the original packaging, crediting F&W, but revising the content a fair bit to re-brand it as a Barn on White Run product.
As soon as I get copies into my hands I will be fulfilling the two dozen orders that have been sitting in my “Pending” folder.
While undertaking some recent reorganization of my basement workshop in Elderbarndottir’s former house (she got married in November and moved to her husband’s house) I came across this nostalgic and beat-up picture from early 1977, hiding behind one of the shelving units. This French secretaire was my first really high-profile/high-value furniture restoration project at Schindler & Son of the Palm Beaches, where I started working in late 1974. Unfortunately I did not take any detailed pictures of projects at this point of my career – had this happened once I was a museum conservator the project would have been documented with hundreds of photographic images to go along with the written reports. I probably took a picture or two of the interior, it was spectacular. Bat that was almost 50years ago and cannot recall that detail.
Somewhere I have a picture of a Riesener cabinet from the same client, but that picture has not turned up yet.
Prior to this I did a lot of run-of-the-mill restoration for “ordinary” antiques along with a boatload of custom finishing and refinishing; before Schindler’s I was a “scratch and dent man” at a couple of furniture stores.
This project arrived in pieces in the back of Ambassador So-and-so’s Mercedes station wagon. The secretaire bore the inventory stamp of the Chateau de Saint Cloud. It should come as no surprise that the culture from which the word bureaucrat is derived should be punctilious about household inventories, but there you have it.
Over a period of a couple weeks, I reassembled it and made repairs to the rosewood and tulipwood veneers, then finally a couple of days of shellac pad polishing. “Pop” Schindler came almost every day to watch and guide me, it was on this project that he introduced me to hot hide glue.
This was a seed for my fascination with exquisite European furniture, especially of the French variety (along with our company’s work at the Wrightsman estate in Palm Beach and their furniture collection), and was truly the acorn from which my fascination with Roubo sprouted. It was also the prompting for me to embark down the career path of conservation; I entered that stream in 1981 at Winterthur Museum while I was a student in college.
Interspersed between sessions of working on the cherry trim for the new bay window I began the process of transforming the pine-veneer-over-particle-board shelf of the unit into something that is visually cherry-ish. The shelf will be used as a mini-greenhouse by Mrs. Barn through the winter, so the finish needed to be really robust. To that end, I sealed the surface thoroughly with a brushcoat of thinned West System Epoxy for best penetration to get it as impregnated and protected against moisture as possible.
To impart the coloration for the board I used a commercial cherry stain as an intermediate glaze coat, probably an iffy proposition. Actually, in hindsight since it was a complete mess of an outcome — perhaps the worst finishing clusterflunk I have ever encountered — it was way worse than “iffy.” I did not even document the process, I had glazed probably ten thousand surfaces over my career so why document this one? (Perhaps some day I should write a series of blog posts about imparting coloration for matching, and the various techniques — staining, dyeing, toning, and glazing).
The glazing went fairly well but it took three days for the glaze to set before I could recoat, versus the normal 2-6 hours. I abraded it lightly to reduce the effects of dust and bugs and miscellaneous debris that became embedded during those drying days. I followed this with a light brush coat of my favorite oil/resin varnish, Pratt and Lambert 38 (no longer available, alas), just before going to bed. With the varnish seal coat over the stain glaze it looked awfully good.
Imagine my surprise when I got up the next morning and saw the most highly blushed coating I have seen in my 50+ years of finishing. Even more than times when I was lacquering on a sweltering Floriduh summer day with a driving thunderstorm outside. Something in the stain/glaze clearly did not like something in the varnish seal coat. I mean, REALLY did not like it. In fact, I have never before seen an oil varnish blush. Never. And this was an oil varnish over an epoxy base.
Back to the drawing board. Gotta noodle this one for a while. Stay tuned.
During Handworks 2023 I was able to chat with Youtoobers Rex Krueger and James Wright about their channels (I am a subscriber to both and you should too). They were very encouraging about my ideas for producing less formal at-the-workbench videos.
Yesterday James’ video featured polissoirs prominently and was an enjoyable romp through the various techniques underneath the umbrella of French Polishing. My only correction to the content would be that my wax blends are beeswax and shellac wax, not beeswax and shellac. But certainly the effort was earnest and almost entirely on the mark. Well done and thank you, James.
Coincidentally(?) while James was steering people toward this web site, the web site itself was partially hacked. Not the content, but rather the search and redirect from the Dark Star, a/k/a Google. Late yesterday afternoon I began getting emails and texts telling me that trying to get to this site from Google resulted in the searchers being deposited in a gaming/gambling site. I contacted Webmeister Tim who got right on it and had the situation resolved as soon as he got home to his computer. Still, it made for a restless night as I wondered how deep the intrusion was.
Is it any wonder that I have long considered compewder hacking to be a capital offense. I am not kidding. And yes, I know what “capital offense” means and implies.
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