I left Spoonfest as soon as the dust settled – off to the airport to get over to Sweden so we could start all over again. Täljfest featured a similar format; 3-day “pre-fest” courses, then an influx of more carvers and instructors for the actual festival itself. My first trip to Sweden – it was pretty exciting.
Sätergläntan http://www.saterglantan.com/ is a magical place Beautifully inspiring buildings, contents and people, nestled into the woodsy hillsides. When I left home, temperatures had been in the low 90s (around 32/33C) and in Sweden, I could have used a sweater at times. When I spoke to the kids back home, I told them it was nice October weather!
There were several courses running at once; I saw next to nothing of them, being busy with mine. JoJo Wood was doing her masterclass on eating spoons; Beth Moen worked a group through her bowl carving; I did the 17th-century carving designs, and the other class was figure carving with Joohyun Im & Hyungjun Yong of South Korea.
It was crazy – I saw very little of it. I did wander around some, seeing people carving everywhere. On the last afternoon, there was a panel discussion, led by Jögge Sundqvist, about craft in our respective countries – we had Denmark, Japan, US, UK, Sweden all represented. JoJo’s biggest challenge was to speak without profanity, and she aced it.
Lots of pictures, I’ll just add captions.
This one gets a sentence of its own – this man is Claude Veuillet, one of the co-authors of a great study of Swiss chests & boxes. One of my students from Spoonfest, Helen, came to Taljfest too, and spoke fluent French. So she helped Claude & I get acquainted. Thanks, Helen.
I’m back home from 3 1/2 weeks over in England and Sweden. Lots to catch up on, I’ll start with Spoonfest. But first, I said many times while I was there, that no blog post, video or anything else can convey the feeling being at this event. If you get a chance, just go. I was amazed in every way; by the folks running it – Robin Wood & Barn Carder; along with a host of support staff & amazingly good volunteers, both young & old. The attendees worked as hard as anybody much of the time…
This was year 5 for Spoonfest, and it moved to a new venue, about a 5-minute walk from the original site, so they tell me. This one was great, a huge field for camping, carving, eating around the fires – and above at the top of the field, two long stone barns for the classes. During the festival there are many 90-minute classes that serve as “taster” sessions. There were often 8 of these going on at one time! that’s around 80 people chopping away in unison. First, they post the offerings on a blackboard. People line up in the morning (queue, in British) and patiently wait to sign up for classes. It works amazingly well. Not sure how this would fly in the US – I tried to teach those in the back of the queue to create panic & tension, by shouting & shoving…it was no use.
a partial view of the inside of the barn, just as some classes were beginning.
down by the woodpile – there were always people here, either carving, talking – or helping you choose some great wood.
Under these tarps (not sure what they are in British English) were benches, chopping blocks, fires, and people carving almost all the time.
This table was unbelievable. The spoons-for-sale table. This is a FRACTION of what ended up there. Staggering. Hanging around this table cost me some money, but made me some too…
When you got overwhelmed with inspiration, you could just step back & enjoy the view. Edale is really something.
Part-way up one of the hills.
My view is that the event is about people – I said a number of times, it was as if the internet came to life. There were so many people to meet, there’s no way I can get them all. Plus I took lousy photographs. Here’s a few that I happened to have photos of. Barn, aka Barn the Spoon. what fun to get to spend time with Barn. He & I sorted out the world while others stayed up through the nights quenching thirsts. https://www.instagram.com/barnthespoon/
The volunteers who fed us, chopped, cut & fetched wood and helped make sure us newcomers had what we needed – Harry, Tom, Nicki, Ria – I know there’s more – but they really were great. Just fabulous workers, and nice people.
And Robin Wood of course. I have no pictures of him this time. He straddled the edge the whole time, and seemed to calmly keep things going. He & Barn are yin & yang of festival organization.
And many, many more. Sorry to make a partial list. It’s not a slight. I have to get to sleep.
Just when I pick things up, I gotta put ’em down. I’m off in a little while to England for Spoonfest http://spoonfest.co.uk/ – my first time at this now-renowned event. Can’t wait. After that, I’m going over to Sweden for Taljfest – http://www.saterglantan.com/evenemang/taljfest/ and then touring around Sweden a bit with Jogge Sundqvist. So there will be no action here on the blog while I’m away. Late August I’ll have lots to catch up on. Meanwhile, I hope to post some junk on Instagram and copy that on FB. Not the same as the blog, though.
Check back near the end of August. It will be worth the wait.
The first half of his post follows the term, from Jarrod Stone Dahl, back to Robin Wood, who got onto it from an exhibition with that title by someone named Chris Eckersley. I won’t repeat all that here – it’s easy enough for you to read Klein, Stone Dahl & Wood to get the background. One thing I’ll start in with is that all three of these people are friends of mine…and I don’t usually get involved in this sort of stuff. But the heat has fried my brain, and I have a trip to prepare, so there’s stuff I’m avoiding.
Going back & reading Robin’s thoughts, his concentration is mostly about the use of machinery vs “hand” work. He chooses to skip past the “art vs craft” thing. Robin has spent a lot of time in recent years making spoon carving knives; so he knows the ins & outs of factory work…and has interesting thoughts on how work like that can be equally rewarding as handwork, as long as the machines do not take away the skill required by the workman.. I certainly won’t argue with the notions Robin puts forth. That sort of work holds no interest for me
The part I didn’t see discussed much is, if one thing is “real” craft, then something else must be “unreal” craft, or, perhaps, “fake” craft.
One thing Joshua cited was Eckersley stating that craft is “real” in the sense that it “occurs in the real everyday world, and not in a fine art studio, nor at a heritage site, nor as a hobby or pastime”. Well…that just hits me wrong. This week, we’ll have a short visit from our friend the painter Heather Neill as she comes north for her exhibition on Martha’s Vineyard. Why Eckersley thinks an artist’s (fine art) studio is not the “real everyday world” is not explained, at least in Joshua’s excerpt. Maybe it is in Eckersley’s exhibition. Heather works harder than me at her “craft” by a long shot. Her head is filled with decades’ worth of projects/paintings/ideas. And each year, she sits at her easel and produces astounding work. So because it’s what one curator once called “flat stuff” i.e. paintings, it’s not craft, it’s art. I guess. http://heatherneill.com/studio-blog/2016/07/18/granary-gallery-2016/
And “heritage sites” – I guess I worked for twenty years making furniture in one. It’s true that in that setting, I had the benefit of a regular paycheck that was not tied to my output. I had to be on the site, working, and explaining to the museum’s visitors what I was making. That kind of repetition and continuum gave me an experience it would be hard to replicate in Eckersley’s “real” world.
When I hear Jarrod talking about “real” craft on his blog or his Instagram postings, to me his use of the term sounds as if it is about marketing, I see him educating would-be customers about the quality and integrity of his work. (I’ve bought work from him, it’s good stuff.) And such a move makes perfect sense, Jarrod puts a lot of thought into marketing his work. I stink at marketing – it holds little interest for me. http://woodspirithandcraft.com/
When Joshua picks up the thread and brings his views into it, all kinds of fun begins. He “state(s) the obvious: craft implies tradition.” His words, his emphasis. I don’t necessarily understand why or how that’s obvious. Nor do I think it’s true. To me, craft/crafted means made by someone – the action of someone making things. Pretty broad definition.
“Traditional” is one of those terms that means one thing to one person, something else to another. I make 17th-century style furniture, using only hand tools – but some of mine are now/have always been, more modern versions of period tools. I know I have used the term “traditional” before, I might still. But I’m nowadays pretty careful with the use of words like that – because of their shifting and varying meanings. Or perceived meanings.
The whole hand-tool versus machine debate is a large part of Joshua’s writings on the subject. Another thing I stay away from. I don’t want to work wood with machines. I am writing this blog post on a machine – and I like to do that…but for me personally, I like working wood with hand tools. That includes hewing, sawing, planing, mortising – all the stuff that happens in the shop. I have a neighbor who came by every so often while my friend Pret & I were framing the shop. He kept saying to me, in all seriousness, “I have a tablesaw you can borrow..” and I don’t-know-what-other tools he had. I started to wonder if he thought I didn’t know about these tools, or was somehow too broke to acquire them, or what he might have thought about why I wasn’t using them. He couldn’t fathom that I enjoyed doing it this way.
I don’t own a chainsaw, but I really like it when other people cut the logs I want to length with one. Then I can take it from there. I have cut trees by hand, and done the whole job – felling, crosscutting, splitting & hauling. I have also used a chainsaw at my old job. When they are right, they are a great tool. When they are cantankerous, they are a nuisance. To me, damned if you do, damned if you don’t. I don’t cut a lot of logs in a year. I have a 14’ oak, now all split into sections, that should carry me well into next winter now. So a couple times a year, I prevail on someone…then it’s quiet. Joshua discusses the approach that uses machinery to rough out the wood, then handtools to produce the final surface. A lot of people work that way, and it’s none of my business. What other people do is up to them. Means nothing to me.
[there’s lots of comments on Joshua’s post, including one from Jarrod about “continuum” – a nice take. Jarrod emphasizes utilitarian function – which some might hear the wrong way and think it excludes decoration. I know in Jarrod’s case that’s not true, (I’m expecting delivery any day now of one of his birch cannisters, decorated with punches and pigments). When reading about furniture, I am always keeping my ears up for the “utilitarian = no decoration” crowd!]
I keep going back to what is un-real craft? I thought of a much-hated example, cute little paintings on old handsaws. What could be worse? Lots of things, but it’s a pretty bad example that will do for now. So one thought is that my hand-made, museum-quality reproduction furniture is “real” craft, and the painted handsaw is unreal craft. My outlook on these things is a bit different. I don’t care what other people do. It could be that the handsaw-painting artisan is achieving a near blissful state of Buddha-hood while engrossed in their work for all I know. In which case, who am I to say my work is real and theirs is not? To me it’s about the process, and more importantly, about how I want to spend my days. Which brings me back to Henry David Thoreau by way of Bob Dylan.
I’ve told this story many times, but here goes again. Once, back at my old job, I had a young kid, maybe 10 years old, come into my shop and ask me “Do you have anything here that’s 3D?” The room was crammed with piles of wood, tools, furniture in various stages of completion. As far as I could tell, everything in the room was three-dimensional. I told him I didn’t quite understand, and asked if he could ask his question another way. “You know, it looks really real” he said. Which took me back to the existential days of the ‘60s – when Dylan sang “the princess and the prince discuss what’s real and what is not…” (I didn’t get to it til the 70s, but no matter). So I was thinking the other day about what’s real and what is not, and I pulled up Bringing It All Back Home, and listened – and heard another line from the Gates of Eden – “I try to harmonize with songs the lonesome sparrow sings…”
Dylan’s line about harmonizing reminded me of this section seen on the blog before (when discussing Jarrod, interestingly) from Thoreau.
“One-eyed John Goodwin, the fisherman, was loading into a hand-cart and conveying home the piles of driftwood which of late he had collected with his boat. It was a beautiful evening, and a clear amber sunset lit up all the eastern shores; and that man’s employment, so simple and direct, – though he is regarded by most as a vicious character, – whose whole motive was so easy to fathom, – thus to obtain his winter’s wood, – charmed me unspeakably. So much do we love actions that are simple. They are all so poetic. We, too, would fain be so employed. So unlike the pursuits of most men, so artificial or complicated. Consider how the broker collects his winter’s wood, what sport he make of it, what is his boat and hand-cart! Postponing instant life, he makes haste to Boston in the cars, and there deals in stocks, not quite relishing his employment, – and so earns the money with which he buys his fuel. And when by chance, I meet him about this indirect and complicated business, I am not struck with the beauty of his employment. It does not harmonize with the amber sunset.”
I’ll take either one, the sparrow’ song, or the amber sunset. I don’t care what people call my craft, or theirs. What I care about is how I spend my days. I try to harmonize…
here’s some of how it went. I do the joinery in two halves. Here, the leg is propped in the “joiners’ saddles” (V-blocks) to hold it steady. Line up the centerline on the end grain with a square, and then fire away. Because the stretchers are at three different heights, you need to keep track of which one’s which. I tend to make the front stretcher the lowest one. the other two don’t matter which is which. Align the bit against the square propped on the bench.
My half-inch mortise chisel is packed away somewhere. I had to use this short firmer chisel. Makes it harder to steer, and can’t whack it as hard. I chop half-way, then turn the leg over & come in from the other side.
test-fit the rectangular tenons.
Sub-assemblies, ready for the next holes to be bored through the rectangular tenons.
I drew the seat plan full-scale on a piece of cardboard, then copied the angles from that. Set the adjustable bevel and tilt the inserted rail so that where I’m boring is plumb. Then go.
Same idea, different setup with the bevel.
beveling under the seat. Like a joiner’s beveled panel, feathered down to fit the grooves in the seat rails.
the front seat rail & stretcher have spindles between them. Knock this together, then insert one rectangular tenon into each post/leg.
Keep in mind the rectangular tenon is a through tenon, the stretcher is not. So the seat rail enters the post ahead of the stretcher. Here’s the front section on the saddles, don’t want the rectangular tenon to bump into the bench top.
Here, catching the stretcher tenon before the seat rails get too far ahead. Gotta keep things open enough to install the seat.
I once was putting one of these together in front of a crowd, pounding away on the joinery, when my friend Ted leaned over & said “you forgot the seat!” Not this time…
It feels like a long time since I’ve written about furniture-making. Shop-building & spoon carving have taken up a lot of space here. This week, I’m building a stool that reaches back to the beginnings of this blog in 2008. Here’s one I made many years ago for the museum where I used to work. These things don’t exist in the wild – not 17th century ones anyway. Chairs built along these lines are common in England and elsewhere. Not New England. These stools are found frequently in Dutch paintings. Note that the three stretchers are at different heights. The seat rails are all at the same height. More on this below.
I am a joiner who does some turning, not a turner by any means. Especially these days. My lathe had been packed away in storage for 18 months. That’s a long hiatus between turnings! This is almost where the lathe will be in the shop, I plan on moving it further back into the corner when the real setup happens. The pole is up in the peak, about 14′ above my head.
These turnings are pretty basic, just a large gouge & a couple of skew chisels. Wood is straight-grained ash. Riven & hewn before mounting on the lathe.
one main feature of these stools, and the related chairs, is the joinery at the seat level. All the seat rails are at the same height, so the joints intersect. A large rectangular tenon gets pierced by a smaller turned tenon. Like this:
Here I am scribing a centerline on the end grain of the seat rail. This is the basis for the layout of the tenon.
Sawing the shoulders.
Splitting the cheeks.
Paring to the finished dimension.
The seat rails get a groove plowed in them to receive the beveled panel that is the seat. Here’s how I held it to the bench for cutting with the plow plane. The rectangular tenon is pressed into the teeth of the bench hook, and a notched stock pressed against the round tenon. Holdfast keeps that stick in place. I eyeball that the rectangular tenon is parallel to the benchtop, then the groove goes in the resulting top center of the rail’s surface.
Just a pointer to go read about Terence McSweeney’s visit to Tamás Gyenes’ house in Hungary. Terence & I met last year when he came to a box-making class I taught in Somerset, England. I was thrilled to hear he made it over to Hungary. What an experience that must have been! I swiped his photo above…but for the real thing, just go see his write up. It says part 1, which implies there’ll be a part 2…thanks, Terence & Tamas.