ASFM Graduate Student Work

People often overestimate my woodworking skills. I am not being humble, as that word is not in my vocabulary, I am being realistic. As the creator of the marquetry furniture you see on this blog, I am more aware of the faults and mistakes than anyone. My work is never perfect, and that has never really been my goal. My goal is to push myself and take risks, measuring myself against other woodworkers by the degree of difficulty.

When I see perfection, it stops me in my tracks.

Last night, at the local meeting of the San Diego Fine Woodworker's Association, I had the honor of introducing SDFWA member, Aaron Radelow, and his latest accomplishment. I first met Aaron when he entered the Design in Wood show, where I was acting as Superintendent, during the 1980's. His work was huge, unrefined and difficult to assemble. I immediately challenged him to change his approach, directing him to focus on more refined and human scale projects. I suppose I was critical and direct in my comments, but to his credit, he listened to what I had to offer.

When I opened the American School of French Marquetry, he was one of the first to attend. I introduced him to the chevalet, and he took to it quickly and naturally. His cutting was exceptional. He had a genuine interest in the methods and techniques, and quickly produced exercises which I consider advanced, like the lion which is on the cabinet at the J. Paul Getty museum. You can see the difference between the first etude he cut the first day of class and the lion which he completed soon after building his own chevalet.

During the class, I often show examples of great marquetry. One of these pictures was of the Pierre Gole ivory table which resides at the Getty Museum. When I explained that this table was (in my opinion) the greatest piece of furniture in the collection, and that it had never been copied, he boldly replied, "I want to make that table!"

My response was immediate: "Impossible." I offered many reasons why I thought he should focus on more reasonable projects, but he persisted. Since he seemed determined to continue with this challenge, I offered advice and suggested solutions to some of the problems which I believed he would face.

Over the next few years, Aaron continued to visit the school and my workshop and report his progress, as he solved each stage of the project. There were setbacks, but he was never discouraged. One of his great talents is his ability to reflect on his problem, do the required research, perform direct experiments and find a solution. In the process, he rediscovered tricks of the trade which surprised me.

He was assisted by Brian Considine, chief Decorative Arts conservator at the Getty museum, who allowed him full access to the original table, and provided insight into its construction. When Aaron was finished, Brian allowed him to place his two tables next to the original and photograph the three together. I am indebted to Brian for his assistance in this project.

I would like to mention that my partner, Patrice Lejeune contributed to this project by applying the French polish after the tables were completed. When he returned from that job, he told me that they were, in fact, perfect.

The resulting tables, executed in legal ivory and blue tinted horn, with gilt bronze trim and French silk, defy description. No amount of praise will equal the effect these objects have on the person who is in their presence. What Aaron has done is historic. For a young American woodworker to accurately create such a famous masterpiece is sensational.

I mentioned how proud I would be if a student of mine could be awarded the McArthur genius award. I would like to nominate Aaron Radelow.

Marquetry for All Ages

When I decided to start my school it seemed a natural progression for me. After all, I had been fairly successful over the years making marquetry furniture, and had spent several years in Paris and visiting other marquetry shops around Europe. It was the natural thing to do. I even asked my mentor, Dr. Pierre Ramond, if he thought it was a good idea. As he was retiring in 2000, and leaving the school in Paris which he had helped make famous, he was enthusiastic about me continuing to teach his methods in America.

In fact, in Volume II of his "Masterpieces of Marquetry" book, he featured me on page 62 with a photo and the statement: "The perpetual transfer of techniques between continents can be illustrated by Patrick Edward's equipment. this cabinetmaker-marqueteur from San Diego, California, traveled to France and bought a framed jigsaw built at the beginning of the twentieth century, which had belonged to a worker who was active before 1950 in Paul Spindler's famous workshop at Ottrot (Alsace). After a training period of several months at the Ecole Boulle, this American craftsman built his personal donkey as well as a model for his hometown museum, where he is in charge of furniture restoration."

That was published in 1996, several years before he retired and I was encouraged to start the American School of French Marquetry. I still remember my surprise at visiting my friends working in the conservation department of Musee des Art Deco, in Paris, when I returned to Paris on a trip from San Diego. It was just after the book had appeared and I had not yet seen a copy. They all applauded me when I walked into the shop, and I wondered what I had done to deserve such attention. Then they showed me the page.

Now I have my own school, and I remain faithful to the methods and exercises that Pierre used to teach me. When a student takes a class he is learning exactly the same beginning etudes as I did at ecole Boulle the first year. It is the same process that the French developed at the end of the 17th century and the same process they still use today.

The real problem I have is that people sometimes see my work and think it is too complicated or difficult. They often are intimidated into thinking they don't have the ability or patience to execute such designs. However, I have my first marquetry project still hanging on the wall and, when they see that, they aren't so impressed anymore. We all must start at the beginning.

At least if you start with the traditional French process, you have a good chance of producing work which others will be amazed at, and wonder how you did it. Remember when you first learned to drive a car? I am sure you were timid and concerned that you would hit the nearest object. You couldn't see beyond the hood ornament, and afraid to go fast. After driving for some time, now I am sure you don't even think about it. All it takes is practice.

The photo with this post is a family who attended one of my early classes in the school. Both the parents and their son took the same class, and they were a lot of fun. They all were able to do the work perfectly. It was a wonderful experience to see a family sharing the same learning experiences and bonding around a "lost art."

It gives me hope and pride that I can inspire some young enthusiast who may, someday, win the McArthur genius award.

When is a Veneer Hammer not a Hammer?

I have made a career out of working with veneer. I learned by experience. All the books I read at the start provided me with information which turned out to be wrong. These "how to do it" woodworking books told me to use the wrong glue, the wrong substrate, the wrong veneer tape, the wrong veneer saw...it is amazing that I even persisted long enough to get it right.

That is exactly the point I make to people who ask me about hammer veneering and working with a hot glue pot. Just do it (sorry about that Nike). Nothing beats experience and practice. Use scrap wood and scrap veneer and just work with the glue until you develop a system that works for you. Don't spend time reading books (or blogs, for that matter) and thinking others can tell you the best way.

In the first place, the business of cooking hot glue in a shop is almost a lost art. American woodworkers threw out the glue pots soon after the first World War, in favor of the new synthetic glues that modern science promised us were much better. Now, if you want to buy a wood glue, usually you go to the local hardware store and ask the salesman, which is best for your job. This salesman never used the glue, I suspect, but knows which brand he is promoting that week, and where the profit is for the store, so he hands you a product with confidence. Don't get me started about the strongest glue on earth...

In this post I will direct you to Keith Cruckshank's excellent site, Woodtreks.com for his videos; just click on the link on the right. He offered to visit me recently and produced several excellent videos on working with protein glue, hammer veneering and my workbench. We spent a lot of time shooting the video on cooking glue and understanding the properties of animal hide glue. We shot take after take during the process so he would have different camera angles and could edit it professionally. It came out fantastic.

When we finished, he said that it was time to shot the hammer veneer video. He was very concerned when I said "Get ready. It happens quick. You only have one chance, since it is something that only takes a minute." He was amazed when I picked up a piece of veneer, put the glue on the board and pressed it down with the veneer hammer. It was done before the minute expired. My complements to Keith for expanding that demonstration into a 10 minute video.

The tool traditionally used is called a veneer hammer. It is not a hammer, but looks like a hammer. In fact, it is held backwards, with the head pressed firmly on the surface of the veneer by one hand, and the handle pulled, pushed and moved from side to side by the other hand. It is not a hammer but a squeegee. It is used simply to press the glue, while it is liquid, quickly from the center of the veneer panel out to the edges. This motion must be completed before the glue gels. If the project is too large, an iron set on low heat is used to work the veneer ahead of the hammer to keep the glue liquid.

In the early workshops, if the project was large (like a piano top) several workers worked at the same time to hammer the veneer as quick as possible. This was a challenge in cold shops in winter. What talent!

The reason this method works is that the atmospheric pressure on the surface of the veneer exerts over 13 pounds per square inch of clamping, as long as there is no air under the veneer. As soon as the glue gels, it prevents air from entering under the veneer and the job is done. That is why the worker keeps pressing the veneer with the veneer hammer for several minutes until the glue reaches room temperature and gels. That's the entire "secret" of hammer veneering.

You won't believe it until you try it. Stop reading this blog and start cooking your glue. (Watch the video first!)

Antique Veneer Saw?

I have no desire to own or use power woodworking tools, but I cannot even think of living without the computer and internet. What an amazing time to live.

I was born at the same time television was introduced, and I remember watching the first color broadcast of the World Series through the glass window of the bank downtown Los Angeles. That was the only place where we could see a color TV. Everyone I knew who had a TV had a black and white, and I was amazed that the grass on the field was so green. It didn't much matter that the color was slightly blurry or that the flesh tones were not exactly normal. It was in COLOR! NBC's peacock was revolutionary.

Now I think of the widespread use of the internet in the same light. Every person walking around has immediate access to the web, which has permeated our existence like the air we breath. Just typing a word into a search engine produces a million sources of information in a tenth of a second. 10 years ago no one even knew what an algorithm was; now there is a movie out on the youngest billionaire in America who made over 6 billion dollars in 10 years by writing an algorithm.

The reason I am thinking of all this is because, out of this internet web, I receive emails and questions from people all over the world, who I have never met.

One of these questions recently was from a woodworker who wrote me about a veneer saw he purchased at an antique tool meet. It seems that he was told this saw was used to cut veneer and, since I was known to work veneer, he wanted me to tell him how it was used. When I opened the attachment, I immediately knew he needed assistance.

I went into the shop and picked up my mitre saw and jack and asked my partner, Patrice Lejeune, to demonstrate while I shot some pictures. Patrice is a very talented "ebeniste" and graduated from ecole Boulle, in Paris, before running his own cabinet shop in Paris for nearly a decade. I asked him to move to San Diego and work with me since he is experienced in all aspects of furniture making and finishing, including French polish.

What he had was a mitre saw, probably French. It was used with a mitre jack to cut 45 degree and 90 degree cuts when making trim, picture frames, or specialized woodwork. It usually was sharpened with little or no kerf, to reduce the tear out of the face of the jack. It had a large one sided handle for both hands, and was sharpened with cross cut teeth.

The mitre jack was made of wood, and was a standard bench accessory. It mounted either on top or on the side face of the tail vise, and had a second screw to tighten the moveable jaw. On one face was the 90 degree cut and on the other side was the 45 degree cut. The wood was placed into the jack and the saw was slid along the face, using both hands. This produced a rough cut at the correct angle. After that a specialized hand plane, also called a mitre plane, was used on the face of the jack to smooth and trim the cut to final dimension.

Thus, the complete set included the mitre jack, the mitre saw and the mitre plane. It is sad to think that such a lot of traditional methods and specialized tools from the history of woodworking is not well understood in this modern age. Woodworkers today would enjoy using these tools if they only did the research to discover their use, and realized that there are traditional alternatives to modern woodworking methods which are equally effective.

I believe that the internet will allow us to return to that pre industrial age if we use it to its full potential. What irony.

My Work Cubicle

I received my last official paycheck in 1973, when I walked away from a secure, $10k/year job in the physics industry. When I was working, I had my own office, with a desk and everything. I had a large experimental lab to play in and all the fancy new electronic equipment I wanted. All I had to do to justify my paycheck was submit my Weekly Activity Report by Friday each week. I found it ironic that I was paid for my WAR Report, and, as a peace activist, I eventually decided to just walk away from that future and that industry.

Now I work "at the bench" every day. I listen to either old fashioned Rock and Roll (read: Pink Floyd) or Classical music (read: Beethoven, Brahms and Schubert), depending on my mood. I work when I feel like it, and take breaks when I want. My desk is my bench. I have all the antique tools I want. All I have to do to justify my paycheck is deliver the final product, satisfy my client and cash the check.

This photo shows a typical day working on the Federal tall case clock I made early last year (or the year before, since I now have a terrible sense of time). In my mind, it was either yesterday, or "years ago" or "many years ago." When you work every day, it is hard to even notice holidays.

I am often asked about how I calculate my price for working, since I have been self employed for so many years. I started out charging $5/hour, then $10/hour, and, after 15 years, $15/hour. My business policy was always to present a proposal to the client before work began, which set the price and time agreed upon by both parties. If I was able to do the job faster, than I made a profit, and if I took longer than I thought, I lost money. In any event, I always got paid in full when I delivered the final job, and there were no surprises.

There is a big difference between working at a job with a salary and working for yourself. When I submitted my WAR Report, I got paid, regardless of how much actual work I completed that week. As a self employed worker, I can say I charge $25 or $100/hour or what ever price I want, but I don't actually collect that amount for each hour I am at work. The real question is how efficient am I at what I do? No one is 100% efficient all the time.

When I started my business, I decided to log my time in a book. This book had the hours for each day broken down into 15 minute intervals. For 2 years, I would stop each quarter hour and log into this book who was paying for that time. If I was sweeping the floor or sharpening chisels, or just goofing off, the time was paid for by the business (lost income). However, if I was working on a job, or even thinking about a project, I could bill the time to the client (earned income). Eventually, I realized that to be 40% efficient was good, and to be 60% efficient was great. While I was at work 10-12 hours each day, I was only earning somewhere between 5-7 hours of pay.

The next thing I did was to calculate my overhead. That means that I took the total cost of my business for the entire year, which included everything I spent to stay in business, and divided it by 365 to get my actual per diem cost. It was very interesting to realize that I needed that amount of money earned every day just to break even, and that was if I actually worked every day of the year.

As a good professional business man, I also needed a profit to grow the business. Assuming a modest 20% profit on all work, and perhaps a 10% set aside for retirement savings, these figures would need to be added to the daily overhead cost.

Since I don't actually see the value in weekends, I choose to take my weekends (52) and divide them into three separate months of time over the course of the year. That means I work 7 days a week for 3 months, and then I take a 1 month "week end" to travel. The result is that I actually work only 260 days a year, but I am "at work" an average of 10 hours a day.

The end result is I need to take my total of 2600 hours a year and divide into the total cost of overhead, plus profit, plus retirement account, multiplied by the efficiency, to get my actual price per hour billing time.

This formula has allowed me to stay in business for many decades, satisfy my customers with good value for the cost, take regular long "weekends" and, all I have to do to keep the doors open is actually complete only 5 hours a day of good, earned income.

Much more satisfying than writing a WAR Report every week.

Biedermeier Jewel Chest

I have discovered that there is a curious relationship between who you know and what you do in life. People you met in school years later show up in new and significant relations which provide opportunities. Clients which brought you an insignificant job, like repairing an ordinary kitchen chair, then refer you to the best client you ever had. Business relations, even though unrelated directly, often end up with referrals which pay the day's wages.

For nearly a decade in the 70's and 80's, I was working as the furniture conservator at the Phineas Banning Residence Museum, in Wilmington, Los Angeles. Although not as well known as some historic houses, the Banning house is the most important Greek Revival private residence still on its original foundation West of the Mississippi. Built in 1864, it is 3 stories high and, when I arrived, my job was to assist the Director in placing the furnishings appropriately. We decided on the Period Room format, setting up each room as if it was a different decade, from 1850 to 1900.

Years later, the Director moved to San Francisco and was in charge of the California Historical Society before retiring to operate a business selling fine art. Nearly 20 years after completing the Banning project, I received a call from a Sacramento collector to ask about making a cabinet. It turns out my name was recommended for this project by my good friend, the Director.

I had purchased a flitch of highly figured French walnut veneer previously in Paris, so I took the entire bundle of wood with me to meet this new client. As I laid out the veneer on the floor of their front room, both clients looked at me strangely and asked, "What is that?" They were sophisticated collectors in many fields of fine and decorative art, but they had no idea how a bundle of wood veneers would look when glued onto a cabinet. I just said, "Trust me."

The lady of the house showed me her problem. In the large walk in closet of the master bedroom, there was no room to walk. The entire floor was covered with shopping bags from jewelers. Each bag had its purchase inside, and that was her system of keeping them in order. She would just seek out the Harry Winston bag, or Cartier, or Tiffany, and then locate the appropriate item for the evening. After the big event, it went back into the bag on the floor.

I realized she needed a rather large jewel cabinet.

She produced a photograph of a Berlin Biedermeier secretaire, with a fall front. She said she wanted the doors to open 135 degrees to the side, and the top to be low enough for her to reach the clock she wanted to place on top. Also, she wanted a secure locked safe in the base, and as many secret drawers as I could create.

I built the cabinet in three sections. The base supports the center cabinet, and the top fastens with secret bolts. Therefore, the doors pivot on hinges located in the base and center section, and the alignment needed to be secure to guarantee proper function. There are more secret compartments than visible drawers, and for several years after delivery I would get the occasional phone call asking me to explain how to open a certain area.

The figured walnut was spectacular. I veneered the columns to match. The interior section was covered in a similar but more dramatic veneer, creating "hearts" in the wood. The inside doors was veneered with walnut which created the German eagle figure (if you squint your eyes...).

There is not a single square inch of wasted space in the interior. What you think is molding is really a pull. What you think is structure and solid is open inside. There are secret levers, and releases, and springs and lots of hidden features which open everything for use.

Needless to say, the cabinet is completely full, and the clients were very pleased with the result.

Hepplewhite Work Table

My wife and I both enjoy visiting historic houses, museums and good antiques shops. Years ago it was a different era in the antiques business, and it was normal to find quality antiques dealers who owned independent shops and specialized in various fields in the business. When we travelled to the East coast together, it was always a pleasant and exciting afternoon to stop in on David Stockwell, or Albert Sack or Benjamin Ginsburg, or any number of established dealers and spend time discovering treasures from the past.

What I miss most from that time is the expertise these dealers passed on when discussing their collection. For example, I remember Carl Yeakel, a dealer in Laguna beach, who was still at work after more than 50 years in business, even though he was suffering from advanced Parkinson's disease. He was excited to show us both the mark on the bottom of a very large and valuable Chinese porcelain bowl, and insisted on lifting it up off the table for us to see. As he held it in the air, shaking all the time, we held our breath. I appreciate his desire to share his experience with us, and I remember that mark and the quality of the porcelain still today.

Most of those old school dealers are gone these days. The antiques market changed during the past decades and the "antiques" shops these days are filled with flea market finds, garage sale left overs and odd lots of miscellaneous collectibles. It is rare to find any shop where the owner knows his inventory, and there is no real educational value to be found in the pastime of antiquing. You must bring your own expertise with you and rely on your own knowledge.

In this sense, it is an advantage for some collectors who suffer through the hours spent walking the isles of clutter that fills these shops today. It is sad but my wife and I no longer look forward to spending the afternoon visiting these shops.

However, one day, several years ago, when we were driving to Los Angeles to visit friends I had the impulse to stop in Carlsbad and see what had become of a shop that I used to enjoy. Actually, I needed to use the restroom. I was disappointed to note that my favorite shop was now an "antiques mall" which is code for "junk." Since I had to use the facilities anyway, I went in and quickly walked to the back of the store, glancing from side to side at the individual booths of stuff.

Suddenly, out of the blue, I was struck by lightening. My heart stopped. I spotted an English Hepplewhite work table, with original finish, surrounded by roller skates, frying pans, dolls and supporting a cheap vase filled with plastic flowers. It had a price tag of $150. I had to go into the bathroom and wait until my hands stopped shaking and my heart rate dropped below 100.

When I came out, I tried to casually walk up to the counter and ask about the table. The clerk said it had been there for months and that they were just discussing the possibility of sending it out for refinishing so it would be more attractive. I said, " That's not necessary. I will take it 'as is'."

That table was spectacular. It had a large oval of satinwood on top, surrounded by purpleheart, boxwood inlay and tulip wood crossbanding. The workmanship was the highest quality. I had to make a copy immediately, and arranged to fly to Paris to select the materials I needed.

When I arrived at Patrick George's veneer shop outside Paris, I showed him photos of the satinwood panel on top. I knew it would be impossible to find the same kind of wood today, but I hoped he would have something with the same character. He just smiled at me and told me that he had some Cedar of Lebanon veneer which was sawn in England in 1850 that had never been sold. 4 pieces. I needed a piece 35cm x 67cm for the top and these pieces were 32cm x 74cm in size. They were also $2000. I bought them immediately.

I quickly sold the original table to a dealer in New York at a very handsome profit. I then made and sold the duplicate table at the same price, plus the $2000 I needed to pay for the veneer. It was an exciting project, and I learned a lot about the methods used during the 1780's in England which produced extremely elaborate furniture decoration with simple hand tools and animal protein glues.

Since I purchased 4 sheets of that fantastic veneer, I did make one change in the copy from the original. The original had a plain back; I decided to veneer the back so that the four sheets of historic veneer could continue to live together on the same piece of furniture.