Time is of the Essence

Always Time to Work

It is normal at this time of the year to reflect on the past and look forward to the future.  I find this very strange.  I enjoy my life and craft and find myself in my shop at the bench working on something every day.  I do not see any difference between week days and week ends, holidays and non holidays.  What changes is the trash pick up schedule, whether the school across the street is open or not and if there is any mail in the box.  Other than that, no difference.

Since I work and live in North Park, an older historic commercial district in San Diego, this day to day normalcy is compounded by the fact that the weather rarely changes.  Except for a few weeks of the year when it rains a bit and other weeks when the temperature drops to 60, there is no indication of the seasons.

I have enjoyed this lifestyle, earning my keep by restoring antiques for 47 years now, with all but a few the early years in the same location.  I walk to work and open the door at 7am, read my emails and turn on the glue pot, remove the clamps from the day before and then, promptly at 8am turn the "open" sign around in the window.  When I feel like it, somewhere between 6pm and 7pm, I turn the sign to "closed" and walk home.  It's a nice routine.  On some days I ride my bike instead of walking.

In any event, I cannot fail to notice the news and talk that another year has ended.  As Pink Floyd
sang on The Dark Side of the Moon ("Time") "The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older, shorter of breath and one day closer to death."  I turned 68 two weeks ago and I now have approximately 32 years left to finish all the projects I started in my life.  I am not sure that I have enough time...

So, this post is about "time."  Something that we can measure but cannot see.  Of course, we can see the effects of time.  Things get old and die.  But we cannot hold time in our hands or feel it with our fingers.  Time is ephemeral, as the wise men would say.  We are aware it exists and cannot ignore it.  It rules our lives.  We are subject to its rule.  Time is our master.  It will exist long after we all are gone.

Jim Croce sang "If I could save time in a bottle."  For me the solution is to put time in a box.  I make clocks.  Mechanical, old fashioned pendulum clocks, the kind which were first invented around 1650.  Using lead weights to convert potential energy to kinetic energy, driving a precise set of gears with a constant escapement to turn the hands of time.  Using gravity instead of electricity as a power source.  Using human power to raise the weights every week and letting the earth pull them down.

I have made 5 clocks in the past 15 years.  Each one found a home before it was completed.  I did not advertise any of them.  Over the year it takes to complete a good clock, some person would discover it and meet my terms for adoption.  Each clock is different, but I tend to make clocks that stylistic date from 1690 and have square brass dials.  I like olive wood and it produces a dramatic surface with a nice polish.  It is getting harder to find, as is most of the old stock exotic woods.

Clock #6, Completed and Standing Tall

I have just completed clock #6, which has been a project for the past year.  The origin of this clock is a clock I was asked to restore some 20 years ago.  It was the property of a famous actress in Hollywood, and she had owned it all her life.  It was from a world famous clock collection, the Wetherfield Collection, and had been sold by Arthur S. Vernay in New York, when that collection was broken up in 1928.  At one point, after I had restored it for her, I managed to secure a cash offer of $175k from an English clock dealer, which she refused.  Even though I encouraged her to take the offer, she just said, "I would rather have the clock."

I understood exactly what she meant.  When you entered her home, the first thing you saw was this clock.  It spoke immediately of class, culture, education, maturity, and stability.  It had a heart beat, which quietly permeated the home, and would announce the hours with a charming bell.  It had a face, and hands, feet and a waist, and the face was surrounded by a bonnet.  In every aspect it was a person.  A physical presence and reminder that we are all humans, measuring time's passing.

Waiting under the Plastic is Clock #7

This clock had a dramatic surface, decorated with boxwood and ebony pinwheels of all sizes and covered in figured sawn olive wood veneers.  All the moldings were carved across the grain, giving it a vertical thrust, forcing your eye to travel from the feet to the top, relishing every detail of the construction.  It was made by Joseph Windmills, in London, around 1690.  In the book, "The Wetherfield Collection of English Clocks" it is illustrated on page 22 as figure #14.

Joseph Windmills, London 1690

I started this project by finding online a period set of clock works in good working condition.  I then had David Lindow, in Gravity Pennsylvania, fabricate a new brass face, which was then engraved by Valdemar Skov, in Maine.  David also made a fine set of hands to complete the works.  I had the works cleaned and adjusted by Paul Smith, who has been in business here in San Diego nearly as long as I have.

I always start building my clocks with the back board.  In this case, all the secondary wood is tulip poplar.  Historically, English clocks are made of oak, but I cannot find the proper old growth white oak here in California, so I use poplar or beech.  There can be no confusion in the future as to the possibility that my clocks could be sold as period clocks, even if some dealer were to remove my name.

It takes many weeks of work to apply the skin.  All my clocks are covered in sawn veneers which are quite thick, 1.5mm.  All elements are glued using animal protein glues.  All the molding is hand carved across the grain, which takes some time.  I cannot use simple molding planes, since the grain is going sideways.  It must be carved and then scraped and sanded to shape.  The profiles were taken from the original clock, when it was in the shop for conservation.

Progress around July 2016

On the sides I use sausage sawn veneers and oyster sawn veneers.  On the front I use oyster sawn veneers, with highly figured cross banding.  In the pinwheels I used Gabon ebony and English boxwood, with each triangle trimmed to fit by hand with a hand plane.  The nice thing about using sawn veneers is that you can work the edges like real wood.

Clamps on...Clamps off

It takes a lot of clamps...Fortunately, I have a lot of clamps.

This clock has a very special owner, now that it's completed.  She is 101 years old.  I have worked for her and her family since she was my age, nearly 4 decades.  I have carefully moved her from one residence to another, as necessary, transporting all her precious antiques personally.  She has kept together a great collection of art and antiques from her ancestors, and lives surrounded by beauty.

Her daughter purchased one of the Treasure Boxes, first series, and it sits in the main room in a place of honor.  They both desired a tall case clock made by me and I thought that this would be the year to fulfill their wishes.  I am pleased that I was able to complete the task by the end of the year.

They have recently purchased a nice condo in the older part of San Diego, where this clock will be delivered.  I expect to have it in place, beating away the seconds, in the next few weeks.

The photos that follow detail the surface decoration:

Today I stand at my bench, working on wonderful projects, at the end of another year.  I know that next year will start tomorrow and I will be faced with more wonderful projects to complete.  There is always a good reason to come to work and a genuine satisfaction every day when I decide to go home.  The one inescapable truth is that, regardless of how much more time I have left, it is time itself that will survive.  I hope and believe that my clocks will also survive me, beating away the seconds for centuries yet to come.  I know Joseph Windmills had similar thoughts back in 1690.

Life is good.

Treasure Box Series II Progress

Treasure Box Series II Nearly Complete

The day Kristen and I left to fly to Winston Salem, Patrice finished cutting out the ebony background packet and was ready to start putting it together.

This Treasure Box is twice as difficult as the first series Treasure Box, and it includes subtle complexities that makes it even more challenging.   Patrice and I have worked together on this project for an entire year to get it to this point, and we hope to complete the project, with four identical boxes by the end of this year.  Or sooner, if possible...

After the success in selling all four of the first series, we were encouraged to start working on the next series.  I selected the original box from a web search and began working on the box construction.  You can search back in this blog to see how long ago it was that I was cutting the full blind dovetails for the corners.

We decided to do the interior in bloodwood veneer and we found a nice large and colorful bloodwood board in Oregon to cut down for the solid partitions to match.  The design includes three birds, each different.  Two are sitting in trees inside the box itself.   One is on the top outside center, surrounded by bone inlay.

Patrice refined the overall design using illustrator, which produces a line composed of very small dots.  It is essential to use a dotted line to cut the pieces properly.  That is because we are using the Classic Method to produce these boxes, and, if you have been following this blog, you realize we are "cheating."  What I mean by this is that the original box, made in the late 17th century, was made using the Painting in Wood process.  With this process, you only are able to generate one copy of the design at a time.  In order to made these boxes "affordable" we are using the Classic Method, which the French perfected in the mid 18th century, and with that process we can make multiple copies all identical.

They look like Painting in Wood, but the fit is perfect since the saw kerf is eliminated, so an expert would be able to determine that they are not "of the period."

To cut out the background for the top, Patrice had to first cut out the elliptical bone cavity around the center bird.  Then he had to take apart the package and install the bone strips in each background.  Since the four backgrounds then had to be put back into a packet absolutely perfectly, with a new design placed on the front of the packet, there had to be some way to keep the alignment of each layer without any error.  I suggested using pins which would be placed in holes that were first drilled through the first packet.  Then Patrice was able to keep the second design in the right position by locating these pins.  It worked perfectly.  Absolutely zero error.

For more about this part of the job visit Patrice's blog here:Patrice's Lumberjocks Post

So, after cutting the packet for over three days, full time, he was ready to start putting the pieces together.  We flew to Winston Salem on a Wednesday.  On Thursday night we were looking for a place to eat and walked into a crab shack around the corner from the hotel.  As we looked at the menu, we were dismayed to find everything was fried.  When the waiter arrived and asked us what we wanted, we said "anything organic and anything not fried."  He kindly said, "You are in the wrong place.  You need to go down Liberty Street on the other side of the interstate and eat at Willows."

Boy, was he right!  We ended up eating there four nights in a row and enjoyed every bite.  For example, here is the "Grilled vegetable Napoleon -layered puff pastry, with grilled asparagus, grilled portabella mushrooms, grilled artichokes and fontina cheese, finished with roasted red peppers."  I had it twice!

Excellent Food Properly Presented

So, as Kristen and I sat and enjoyed our delightful dinner together on Thursday night, I received the first photo of the marquetry that Patrice had just put together.  Kristen actually cried when she saw it and I stopped breathing for a few moments.  It was just too beautiful!  I know how the masters in the 17th century felt when they looked at their work.  One part of the brain (the technical side) focuses on the slight defects that are always present.  The other part of the brain (the artistic side) just smiles, knowing the satisfaction of a job well done.

To quickly review how we got to this point, I will briefly summarize the process we used.  After Patrice had completed the drawing, I laid out 32 different packets of sawn veneers and coded each part of the design with the appropriate wood.  The top has nearly a thousand separate pieces, and each had to have a color, keeping in mind the overall goal of making it look authentic.  I then glued each piece of the paper to the packets and fed them to Patrice, who was kept busy cutting 4 layers of each element over nearly a month of work.

He is responsible for placing each piece in hot sand to create the artistic shadow, as I no longer have the patience to do that part of the work.  It is an essential part of the process, but very tedious.  Patrice has the eye and understands exactly how the final result will look.  He did a great job.

At this point all the sides for the four boxes are assembled and all the tops are nearly ready.  The inside marquetry is done and glued down.  There is one last issue to resolve: green bone.

If you look closely at the marquetry you will see that a lot of the places where leaves should be are empty.  These spots will be filled with green bone leaves.  Also, in these places you can see small strips of ebony crossing the empty space.  These strips are "bridges" which are a feature of the Classic Method.  By leaving "bridges" in the design, the various elements of the background can remain exactly in the proper place until the worker is ready to install the proper element.  The worker just cuts out the bridge and installs the leaf, in this case.  We will do that as soon as we complete the process of dying the white bone a proper green.  Green bone elements were a very popular feature in late 17th century work.

I am so proud of this recent work that I want to show you some closeups, even though the work is not completely done.  Note you are looking at the back side of the marquetry, which is being assembled with hot glue on an assembly board which is covered in stretched Kraft paper.  When all the parts are in place, any gaps which remain will be filled with mastic.  Then we can remove the panels and finally glue them in place on the outside of our boxes.

We are very fortunate that three of these boxes have been sold and paid for.  That means that there is only one Treasure Box Series II which remains available.  It is our hope that we will find a patron who is able to purchase the last box and perhaps donate it to a museum.  We believe that this work is worthy of being in a museum where it can be enjoyed by the general public.  I think it is very important in this modern disposable world that the public has the chance to view objects which will stand the test of time.  This work is equal to that produced centuries ago, as we have been very faithful to the craft.

Lecount Clock Door

Edwards Clock #2 Private Collection

I have written before about my business plan.  To clarify, it is not so much a "plan" as a "philosophy."  You see, when I decided to work every day of the week, and not take weekends off like the "normal" people in the world, I quickly realized that I would eventually need a break.  That is why, for the majority of my career, I have worked daily for 3 months and then taken a month away from the bench for a "business" trip.

Sometimes my business trip is to Europe or the East Cast to buy stuff, meet new and old mentors and just enjoy the world of museums, historic houses and antique shops.  Sometimes my "business" trip it to the cabins I own on the Madison river in Montana to enjoy the world of the brook trout, eagles and elk.

That said, I also realized early on that there would be no "retirement" for me.  No "pension" or other means of support, except Social Security, which I now am receiving in very small amounts.  Therefore, I needed a plan to resolve the fact that I would work at the bench until they pried the chisel from my cold dead hands.

What I decided to do was calculate the exact amount of income I would need to survive a day of life, and then make that amount every day.  If I missed a day of work, then the next day would require a double amount to keep even.  In general, I need to work for paying clients at least 4 hours a day, every day for life.  Assuming that I arrive at work at 7 am and close up the shop at 7 pm normally, that gives me 8 hours of "retirement" in my workshop, which is fully equipped to provide me with tools and materials for anything I want to do.

This method of budgeting my time has allowed me over the years to create some large projects which involve hundreds or even thousands of hours of unpaid time.  Essentially, I work for a living and, in my retirement, create amazing objects of marquetry covered furniture.

Last week I visited two of my favorite clients, who have generously supported my efforts to keep alive the traditions of this craft.  Together, they own several of my best pieces, including the jewel cabinet I made some years ago, covered with ebony and 32 different marquetry panels.  They also have the second clock I made, with works by David Lindow, and I took some photos since it is very similar to the case I am currently making for Lecount.

The bonnet has pierced work, backed by silk, which allows the tone of the bell to escape and keeps dust out.  I cut the fretwork on my chevalet, and it went very fast.  Here is a photo of the top:

Bonnet with Fretwork and Rope Carved Columns

Note the marquetry in the upper door.  I guess I like birds, as I seem to always include them.

Upper Door of Clock #2

Here is the marquetry on the base.  More birds.  I really like the end grain molding, even though it is a pain to carve.

Base of Clock #2

Now I am making the case for my 5th clock, which will contain the Lecount works from 1690.  I always start my clocks with the backboard.  You can review my earlier posts about this process. Making the clock from the bottom up allows me to enjoy it standing next to the bench (as encouragement) and provides me with actual measurements for the bonnet when it becomes time to make that part.

The bonnet is the most complicated part of a tall case clock.  It has a mask, which fits closely to the face.  It has side windows which allow the viewer to see the works.  It has a glass door, which pivots with the carved columns as the offset pivot point.  It needs to slide onto the case molding and be held by guides so it doesn't fall forward.  It needs to be closed from dust, and it needs to allow the bell to be heard.

But I am not there yet.  Today I was able to rough sand the door itself.  Over the past week I took some time to cut in more yew wood oyster veneers and glue them to the oak door.  After that, I laid the marquetry panels over the oysters and marked the outline, so I could cut away the yew and place the panels.  When that was dry, I carefully cut in 2mm boxwood string inlay banding around all the parts.  Then I glued in the olive cross band edges.  I still need to make the ovolo molding which will be glued to the edges and cover much of the cross band trim.

Here is the door on the bench during sanding:

Lecount Door On The Bench

So, I placed the door on the case and took this picture this morning.  It allows me to see what this clock will look like when it is assembled.  My next job is to start cutting and attaching all the molding on the case, both lower and upper, as well as the molding around the door.  That will allow me to install the hinges and lock to be sure everything fits properly.

Lecount Standing Proud!

After that, I can start making the bonnet.

The Quervelle Project

This is the original console table by Quervelle, made in Philadelphia, now in the dining room.

THE STORY OF HOW I CAME TO COPY THIS TABLE

I believe that the most important historical event in American history was when President Monroe established the outline of what subsequently became known as the "Monroe Doctrine" during his State of the Union speech in 1823.  The unification of the diverse colonies of the East Coast as the self declared "United States" was still in its infancy, but anxious to demonstrate to the European parents that it was "grown up" and ready to stand on its own feet.  Monroe went even further, and declared that this new country would not allow any interference by anybody, anywhere in the Western Hemisphere.

Imagine!   At the tender age of 47, America claimed that it would protect both North America and South America from any invader.  Nothing else in our history has been so bold and so instrumental in defining our international image and policy.

Where did this power come from?  One factor that helped create this concept was that America at that time was experiencing an economic boom, with abundant resources easily available.  Another was the relative strength and success of our merchant fleet, with faster ships and trading routes which rivaled the historic European nations.

To me, as a student of American history, and a collector and researcher of Decorative Arts, the Monroe Doctrine represents a great age of high style and fashion, starting after the economic depression ended around 1817 and continuing until the next depression of 1837.  These 20 years saw an influx of British, Irish, Scottish, German and French workers, highly skilled in their trades, who migrated to the rich centers of wealth in Boston, New York, Philadelphia and other emerging East Coast cities.

In particular, the French ebenistes who worked in New York, like Lannuier, and in Philadelphia, like Quervelle, brought with them a style and quality of work not seen previously in the States.  As France was our ally in the 1812 War with England, close ties between the French and American upper class developed and the rich decorative elements of the French Empire were transmitted to North America.

These elements were derived from ancient historical sources, in Egypt, Greece and Rome, and had been transmitted through time and geography by the Italians, French, Germans and British, starting late in the 18th century.  They became fully developed under Napoleon, and, in my mind, became the first international politically imposed style in history.

The decorative elements of this period perfectly reflected the image that Americans wished to project: cornucopia, lion's feet, eagle's wings, classical columns, acanthus leaves, Grecian key motif, etc.  In other words, the new America was representing itself as combining the power of Rome, the intelligence of Greece and the mystery of Egypt, all in one place.

This is why I find the furniture made during that period so rich and full of symbolism.  In particular, I became obsessed with a French cabinetmaker who worked for many years in Philadelphia by the name of Anthony Quervelle.  There was a series of articles in the magazine Antiques in 1964 by the researcher, Robert Smith, which identified elements of design that became identified with Quervelle and his school of influence.  You can find these now posted on the web.

I began to search for antiques which could be attributed to him, and found several, including some with his labels.  I owned and sold a nice pair of labeled card tables at one point.  I also purchased and still have in my dining room a large sideboard by him.  To me he became the ultimate French craftsman working in the States during the second quarter of the 19th century.

All of this background leads up to one of the more interesting and successful projects in my career.  A few years ago I was contacted by a very successful furniture maker in England.  He had made and delivered a spectacular dining table to a rich client in Southern California, and that table had developed white spots in the finish.  Could I arrange a visit to see if I can solve the problem?

I gathered my materials for on site finish repair and scheduled a visit.  The home was one of the finest I have had the pleasure to visit, and you need to remember that I have worked in wealthy homes for collectors for over 40 years.  The dining room was large, with elegant symmetry.  Marble fireplace at one end, tall framed windows on the wall with silk drapes, and the mahogany Federal table surrounded by two dozen Chippendale chairs.  The table and chairs were very well made modern copies, but I noticed that, under the window, there was a period console table by none other than Quervelle.

Unfortunately, the finish on the table could not be repaired, as the synthetic glue that was used to apply the veneer had leaked through small defects in the crotch mahogany veneer and reacted with the polish in a way that created repetitive white spots the length of the table.  I notified the maker that it would be necessary to remake the top, and there was nothing I could do on site to repair it.

I remarked to the client that I loved the Quervelle console, as it was easily the finest example of his work I had seen outside of a museum.  He agreed with my assessment, and then said that he was looking for another to put under the other window to complete the symmetry of the room.  Sensing an opportunity, I suggested that it would be possible to just copy the one he had, and that I was ready to take the job.

I prepared a proposal and contract and made an appointment to return to discuss the terms.  When I did, he received my well thought out proposal, and without reading it, agreed to give me the job.  I asked why he did not even read my proposal, and he replied, "This house was built on a handshake.  If we cannot trust each other, then a piece of paper is worthless."

At that moment, his wife entered the room and asked about the project.  As she had some reservations about making an exact copy of the antique table, I offered that the Dallas museum had in its collection a wonderful Quervelle table, which was similar in many details, but quite different in others.  I suggested that, instead of making a copy of the one they already had, I could make a copy of the Dallas piece, and that would add some interest to the room, while completing the symmetry as desired.

There was some back and forth discussion, which I tried to stay out of, and the end result was that he wanted the same and she wanted different.  I left without any firm decision and went to work.

This is the Dallas table in my workshop almost ready for delivery.

This is my copy of the Quervelle console table in the Dallas Museum collection now in the ballroom.



CARPE DIEM DECISION

I decided on my own to make both.  I reasoned that having both would give the client a chance to see which they preferred, and that I would be happy with the other, as it would look great in my home.

This project involved many people with special talents.  First I had to find old 16/4 Honduras mahogany for the carved front legs, which I purchased in San Francisco at a high price.  I already had the mahogany veneer in stock, so that was not a problem.  I ordered the white marble tops from an old marble workshop in Los Angeles, with exactly the right thickness and edge profile.

I took two pieces of Victorian blown window glass to have silvered.  The man who does this work has since died, since he was in his 90's at the time of this project, and had been doing this work since the 1930's.

I contacted two different carvers for the front legs, as the work on one was of a different character then the other, and I wanted to have both tables delivered at the same time.  I sent each of them the 16/4 mahogany blanks for the project and waited.

I turned the pilasters and feet for each of the tables, exactly matching the originals.  As Patrice framed together the carcasses, I worked at the same time using hot protein glue to hammer veneer the surfaces.
To assemble the frames, of course, we used Old Brown Glue.   Patrice matched the color of the dark veneer and put an aged crackled black finish on the two carved legs of the Dallas table, as well as the feet.  Several coats of shellac finished the job.

I had a local guilder apply a bronze gilt to the legs and feet of the original table.  I had a sign painter, who does gold leaf signs, work out the gilt stencils for each table, which I then engraved by hand to bring out the detail.  This was the first project where I have used gilt stencils.  They're neat.

After about 6 months, both tables were finished and ready for delivery.  I put them in the truck and made the appointment.  When I arrived he was not at home, so I said to her, "You have a choice."  She looked at both tables and said that she would need to call her husband at work for his opinion.  I could not help but overhear the conversation, as she was standing next to me.

"The tables are here," she said.  Then, "He made both."  Then, "They both look great."  Then, "He says that we should just get both of them.  We can put one in the dining room and the other in the ball room."  She paid me for both, and the dining room has the copy of the original and the ball room has the Dallas example.  I went home with an empty truck and a full wallet.

This is my copy of the Quervelle console table in the shop almost ready for delivery.

This is my copy of the Quervelle console table, sitting in the dining room next to the original.


I FORGOT TO TAKE GOOD PHOTOS!

In my haste to deliver the tables, I neglected to have good studio photos taken.  That is why I haven't posted on my website or in my blog photos of these tables before.  Then, recently, I contacted the client and asked if they would allow me to visit and take better pictures.  They were very kind and said that I could do whatever I wanted at any time that was convenient.

I just returned and now have some photos to show.  I know they are not the best, but, at least it is possible to see exactly how my homage to Quervelle turned out.  It was a great experience.

Daniel Lecount Project

I love clocks.  Not just all clocks, although I think they are amazing, but specifically tall case marquetry clocks. Imagine what kind of mental gymnastics it takes to figure out the drive train sequence, forces and speed necessary to transform a weight into a measurement of time passing.  The history of time keeping is full of creative methods for measuring time, from the sundial to dripping water.  To me, the Golden Age of time keeping was the last half of the 17th century.

It was Christiaan Huygens in 1656 who perfected the pendulum clock and transformed our estimation of time into a more precise system of measurement.  The pendulum is simple and effective.  Think about how accurate you can make it.  By adjusting the bob up and down as little as a millimeter, you can change the speed of the movement by several minutes a day.  It is so sensitive that moving a pendulum clock from the North to the South requires an adjustment to keep the time constant.

Clockmakers were a special breed, as I said.  The story of the first clock to be used successfully at sea, made by John Harrison in 1736, is a story that represents how interesting these people were.  John was self educated, and not an accepted member of the guild of clockmakers at that time.  He was a carpenter!  However, he solved a problem which had stumped all the other clock makers of his day.  His invention changed the world, but he had to wait years for recognition and awards.

My favorite period of clock design was during the last two decades of the 17th century (1680-1700).  This period was very creative and there was an emerging merchant class in England and Europe who appreciated the status and practicality of having a clock in the house.  The general design of the cases included square brass dials and elaborate marquetry cases, often with  exotic materials.  I have made several of these clocks and spent a lot of time on the internet looking at others and I never get tired of seeing them.

Some time ago a client brought in a tall case clock for analysis.  In general, most clocks I see are (unfortunately) marriages of works and cases, and this clock was no different.  It was a Georgian case which had had the lower section remade with very poor workmanship.  The brass works were earlier and some person had added a fake brass moon dial to the top to fit into the case.  Essentially, the only value was in the works, so I was able to purchase the works at a reasonable price and the case went away to its fate.

The works were made by Daniel Lecount, and signed London.  The most amazing thing is that they were completely original and unrestored.  It seems that the owner of this clock had owned it for some 50 years and never ran it.  He was missing the weights and never thought to replace them.  So it sat.

Daniel Lecount was a French man, who was a member of the Haberdasher's Company and relocated to London, where he was "made free of the Company 29 September 1676."  That is, he was accepted into the Worshipful Company of Clockmakers in 1676 and remained in that position until 1693.  He was most well known for his watches, but he made several tall case clocks as well.

At that time, the clock makers usually did not make the cases.  They would make the works and then hire some local cabinetmaker to make the cases.  That accounts for the wide range of quality and design  that you find on these cases, even for the same maker.  During this period the major influence on case design was the Dutch influence on the marquetry.  The general method used was Painting in Wood, and the veneers were sawn from a wide variety of imported exotic species, newly discovered in the far reaches of the world.  Oyster and sausage cut veneers were common as well as tinted bone and horn.

Here are some images of the works.  It is interesting that the dial is 11" square, and not the common 10" that is on almost all the clocks from this period.  All the parts are original and unrestored.

Here is a shot of the works, which still have the old catgut cables.  Note the fake brass moon dial attached to the top, which has been removed.

After looking at several documented clocks made by Lecount, I selected one which I like.  I have been working this week on the drawings for this case, and the drawings for the marquetry.  I have decided to use sawn olive for the primary groundwork, with yew oysters on the door background.  I really like the boldness of the spiral carved columns and the little touches of gold leaf on the capitols, bases and lenticle surround.

Here a close up of the bonnet.

I will post on this blog, from time to time, as work progresses on this project.  It will be a happy day when Mr. Lecount's masterful clockworks are housed in a case that is more appropriate and historically accurate.

By the way, I know that there are people out there who know more about clocks than I do.  If any of you have more information on Daniel Lecount and his work, I would appreciate knowing about it. As usual, time marches on.

The Phoenix Table

Last September I posted an entry here about an elderly lady who lives in a historic Craftsman house just a few blocks from the shop. I mentioned that her entire house went up in flames (actually it exploded) when some very stupid refinishers tried to strip all the woodwork with the windows and doors closed and the water heater turned on. She was lucky to get out alive.

At that time she had a very large pine table which had been made in New York some 50 years ago. It wasn't an antique, and it wasn't particularly well made, but I had been hired by her previously to refinish it with a more "authentic" finish than the yellow lacquer.

She had a particular attachment to that table, since it had been made for one of her dear friends who had a large family, and it brought back good memories of her past. Although it was very large, it was one of the few items in the house that the brave fire fighters actually moved outside while fighting the fire.

When I saw the smoke from the fire, while standing in the front door of my workshop, I rushed over to see which house was burning. Imagine my surprise when I arrived to see that table sitting on the lawn, smoldering. Naturally it was beyond saving.

Fortunately, this lady had good insurance, and the strong determination to not only rebuild, but to restore the home exactly as it was built in 1926. She found some experienced contractors and supervised every step of the job, fighting the city code during the entire process. She moves in to the "new" historic house next month.

Since all of her antique furnishings were lost, she has been collecting replacements. That is why she came back to me to rebuild the pine dining table. I don't usually work in pine, but it is a change of pace to just do "timber framing" and "rough" hand planing. Where the original table was held together with dowels and bolts, this version is strictly traditional: wedges, pins and mortise and tenon construction.

The top is the same size as the first table, 4 feet by 8 feet. It fits well on the top of my bench. Tomorrow I start the process of finishing it and by next week she should have the table sitting on her new hardwood floor in the dining room.

I don't think she will have the woodwork in the house stripped again.

Treasure Box Déjà Vu (Again?)

Patrice has been sick for a few days. Sinus headache. Not a pleasant situation, so he stayed in bed. Today he showed up, but is still not running on all cylinders. While he was home, he had a chance to read my recent posts about the box photos.

Since we worked very closely together to make the box, he was anxious to fix the problem with the photos. So, this morning he crawled into the shop and sat down at his computer and, within 10 minutes, seemed to fix the problem.

Here are his versions of the photos. This is the closest to the real thing so far. I probably have spent way too much time on this digital photography thing, but I have discovered that a lot of woodworkers who read this blog are, in fact, very talented professional photographers. I have learned a lot from their emails and comments. Thank you all.

Treasure Box I (Encore)

I got a lot of comments on my questions about digital photography. I need to confess that, over the years, I have carried my Nikons and hundreds of rolls of film all over the museums of America and Europe, and that I am, in fact, an analog thinker. I mean, what kind of person has 18,000 slides of just furniture catalogued in conservation boxes? Each piece has a front view, 3/4 view and detail close up shot. The weird thing is that I can remember exactly where I was when I look at a shot. Talk about a strange talent...

In any event, my good friend Chuck, did some work on the photo I posted and sent this one back. Although it is still not exact, it is an improvement on the "professional" shot. Next week I will see what I can do to correct the original and post it.

Thank you to all the kind readers who sent me their opinion. I appreciate that others have found my work interesting.

Treasure Box Series I (Part D)

I am not sure about digital photography. Just not sure. I do not trust something that can be manipulated so easily. So, anyway, I paid a photographer, with a lot of expensive equipment, to take a picture of the box. I will post it here.

However, since it is made of exactly the same materials and has the same finish as the jewel box at the masthead of this post, why does it look different? Trust me, I will find out what is wrong with this picture and repost it as soon as I can get it right.

In the meantime, here is a shot of the outside and inside of the finished box. Enjoy.

Remember, I have three more just like it...

Treasure Box Series I (Part C)

Cutting out the background, using the Classic Method is actually fun. Kind of like the homestretch run in a race. If you have done your training properly and paid attention to the basic details, the final distance in the race is an endorphin high.

We first glued newspaper to the face of the ebony veneer, so that it would hold together in the fragile areas. Then we made a packet, starting with 3mm backer board, grease paper, 4 layers of 1.5 mm ebony (paper side up) and a 1.5mm front board. On the front of the packet we glued the design, using hot protein glue. Then we taped the outside edges and nailed all the interior elements together with veneer nails.

Drilling a hole in the design, we began cutting out the pattern, following the edge of the design, going counter clockwise. That is the genius of the Classic Method. You cut all the inside elements following cutting around each in a clock wise direction. You then cut the back ground in a counter clockwise direction. By this simple change of direction, you can cut away the outside (or right side) of the line exactly each time. The result is a tight fit, without any saw kerf visible.

When the entire background is cut out, the packet is taken apart and the result is 4 identical backgrounds, ready for the pieces. To assemble the project, we have made an assembly board with Kraft paper (90gm/square meter) and set up the work table with the tray of parts, assembly board and glue pot.

Each piece of the picture is laid down into the appropriate cavity of the background, which is laid face down in hot glue on the Kraft paper. You need to be sure all the parts are well glued down, so fresh, hot glue needs to be added as the work progresses. Since all the parts are very tight fitting, it is necessary to use a special veneer knife to lever them into place. A lot of the success depends on compressing the wood elements enough to press them into place. It can be a challenge sometimes, but the results are amazing.

Since we are making 4 identical marquetry boxes, we decided to create variations in the interior fittings. The first box has sawn olive, kingwood, tulip and boxwood inside, with a secret panel for hiding treasure. I designed a brass release and lever to allow the user to open the panel. Inside this panel we put our label: "Edwards and Lejeune". The beech wood box is assembled with full blind dovetails at each corner, to prevent the joints eventually pushing up through the marquetry.

The marquetry panels are glued to the beech ground, which has been toothed properly, using Old Brown Glue. After the glue has dried, the Kraft paper is soaked with cold water, begins to dissolve, and gentle scraping removes the paper and glue from the surface. The marquetry is scraped flat and the polishing begins.

Once the hardware is cut in (lock and hinges), the box is ready to deliver. The first one is sold and we have three more.

I will post better pictures in a future post.

Treasure Box Series I (Part B)

There are several things that are essential to the French method of making marquetry. Surprisingly, the use of the chevalet is not one of them. By that I mean that there are many French workers who make great pieces and do not use the chevalet. In fact, the workshop at ecole Boulle has generally replaced the chevalet with Italian jig saws. I discussed this in an earlier post, and showed photos of the new workshop.

In my mind the essential ingredients of a French process marquetry workshop are: hot protein glue, Kraft paper and trays. Lots and lots of trays. Large trays for all the parts for the design. Smaller trays for the cutting work and tools. Cabinets to hold the trays and tables to place the trays on. It seems that most of the work building these pictures involves moving parts from one tray to another or within the same tray, using tweezers and trying not to disturb the pile. With 4 copies of sawn veneer, it is fairly easy to keep them stacked up. With 8 copies it gets more difficult, as the stacks keep falling over and mixing up.

I found a coated paper which is blue and has a low flocking surface of some kind that works great. I don't know where I got it and I don't know where you can find it, so don't ask. However, since it is blue, it is easy to see the wood on the surface, even the small elements. Also the parts seem to stay in place and not move around. I just used spray adhesive to line the trays with this paper. The larger trays are from an antique typesetting cabinet. The smaller trays are just something I made from pieces of wood with an edge frame.

So, as the pieces from each packet are cut out they are placed in the small tray, which is at the chevalet. When that is full, these pieces are then transferred to the larger tray and placed in their respective position, according to the exploded design. It is very important to keep them in exactly the proper location, because it can become confusing in a hurry as the design gets complicated.

Now, looking at the design which has been shadowed, each piece is carefully placed in hot sand in such a way as to create the desired effect. The sand is very fine and uniform and heated as much as possible. We purchased a rather expensive hot plate, made in Germany, since the hot plates made in China did not create enough heat to do the job. The sand is about 1 inch deep and heated for at least an hour or more to create the proper temperature. Do not stir up or disturb the sand, as you want to use the even heat distribution (top to bottom) to your advantage for the proper look.

Only after all the elements of the picture are properly cut out, placed in their proper position and burned in hot sand do you begin to cut the background packet.

That is another post. To be continued.