What happens tomorrow morning before dawn will determine the world champion in two of my favorite sports: chess and F1 racing.
I cannot imagine two sports more different than playing chess and racing the most complex automobiles on the planet. In chess two men sit a few feet apart in absolute silence, sometimes for minutes and sometimes for a half hour, without moving a muscle. Thinking. Pure thought. Anticipating future moves and working out in your head all the options for victory. The two who are playing what will be probably their last match tomorrow are two of the most talented individuals in their sport the world has ever seen.
At the same time that they are playing chess, two other men will be racing the last race of the season in F1. They are nearly equal in points after 18 races, and whoever crosses the line first will be champion. Their sport involves split second decisions, the highest degree of technology, a large team of skilled helpers and tons of money. They sit in the cockpit of a machine which is moving at 200 miles an hour, sweating in 140 degree heat, with an engine a few inches behind their head screaming at many thousands of revolutions per minute. For two hours they must focus on the race, where a second gained or lost will determine if they finish first, or perhaps last.
I will be watching the chess match on my computer and the race on the television. I can tell you that it will take more than a little bit of concentration on my part to keep up.
I have been thinking lately about what makes a "master" of any craft, whether it's playing chess, racing a car, or just restoring a valuable object from centuries ago. Of course, while I do play chess often, and like to drive my car fast, I am not a "master" of either of these skills. That doesn't mean I can not appreciate the subtleties of those professions. In the same way, I regard the methods I use in my profession with my full attention and experience to guarantee a professional result.
I enjoy working on early furniture since all the experience you need to do the job properly is right in front of you. All you need is a keen sense of observation. Basically it is a question of simple forensics. Look for the clues and you will understand what you need to do. Traditional construction methods, hand tool marks, layout lines, hardware decisions and everything else is important and must be analyzed. In the same way traditional upholstery is predictable and you can learn this skill by carefully taking apart the work and putting it back together using the same process.
I recently completed a large amount of traditional upholstery projects and was thinking about what makes a good upholsterer. One word came to mind: tension. When stretching the webbing, or tying the springs, or stitching the horsehair or tacking the silk cover, the single constant was understand the proper tension. This is why it helps to have large "meathook" hands, like I have. (They also are "handy" for sanding!)
In applying a "period" finish or making repairs, there is another rule I follow: natural wood is not one color. Many refinishers make the mistake of using only one color for wood. The only way I have found to fool the eye into thinking that the finish was original is to use several colors, carefully layered or in different areas on the object. Natural sunlight fades wood, and the surfaces fade differently. Nothing makes a piece look "new" more than having a uniform finish on all surfaces. I know this sounds counter intuitive, but trust me, it really makes a difference.
The same concept works with making hand made furniture. I do not think that there is anything sacred about 90 degrees or straight lines. If the door opens and closes, or the drawer slides in and out, fine. I am not saying I am careless. I am saying that there is a priority to decision making when putting a piece of furniture together. It needs to function and be sturdy and attractive. It does not need to be perfect. A drawer is not a piston in a cylinder. It does not need to hold compression during an explosion. It just needs to open and close.
Look at the Parthenon in Greece. The columns are not exactly vertical. If they were, they would be predictable and boring. Would we be as interested in the tower in Pisa if it wasn't leaning? (Perhaps not the best example, but I couldn't resist.)
I guess what I am trying to get at is that you spend your life observing phenomena, and if you are intelligent, constantly learning from that experience, gaining a proficiency in some form of activity. By learning what is important and what is not critical, you can do a job quickly and effectively and with a high degree of satisfaction. In fact, others will pay you to do that job, once you have proven your talents in that field. Satisfied customers are the best publicity.
I have been fortunate to have had people pay me to restore furniture for over 45 years. Now if I could only get Mercedes to sponsor me.......
