Chevalet de Marqueterie

When I started restoring antiques, I was not alone. There was a large, popular movement to collect and restore antiques during the 60's and 70's which supported a lot of competition. I wanted to do projects which were unusual, complicated and required a higher degree of skill, so I could charge more money, and get all the jobs the others walked away from.

I soon discovered that most woodworkers avoided veneer in general and marquetry in particular. Since I was working with traditional hot protein glues, and had sources for high quality veneers, I studied everything I could find on the subject. Most of the books in English were full of bad advice. It seems that these books were written by authors who had only read other books written by authors who had no practical experience, and were simply passing on bad information. Since I was learning by experience, my experiments with glue, veneer and inlay taught me to avoid believing what I read.

Two of the books I thought were accurate were written in the 18th century by French authors: Diderot and Roubo. Both books contained illustrations of early woodworking trades and tools, including marquetry. In one illustration a worker is shown sitting on a bench, with a foot operated vice, cutting marquetry packets with a hand held fret saw. I was fascinated. I immediately purchased an American harness makers bench in Nebraska, and modified it to work exactly as the illustration showed.

You can see me trying to cut on this tool above. I also include a picture of my good friend, Yannick Chastang, working on his replica of the same tool. He is living in England, and is a graduate of ecole Boulle, and was, for many years, the furniture conservator at the Wallace Collection.

It was difficult to work properly. The biggest problem was holding the saw perpendicular, and the jaws had a shallow throat, making it impossible to execute larger projects. This was in 1975. That year the Getty museum opened to the public in Malibu, and I was practically the first person in line to get in. I soon met the young French man, hired to conserve the collection, and we became friends. He invited me to his home, where he had a complete woodworking shop in his garage.

Unlike most American woodworkers, his workshop had no power tools, and a large bench stood in the center of the room, with a wall of hand tools and several nice, expensive and early restoration projects sitting nearby under sheets.

We both shared a passion for racing bicycles, and I owned several expensive custom frames, which I offered to bring the next visit for him to try. During one of his rides on my bike, I lifted the sheet on one of the objects, fully expecting to see some nice early cabinet. What I saw was an amazing tool: the chevalet de marqueterie. I instantly recognized it, and realized it had a saw and arm support system which was not illustrated in the early French books. Problem solved.

The next thing I know, a cabinet shop in Hollywood contacted me to see if I could make a marquetry top for a dining table commission. It seems that they had not found any worker in Los Angeles who was able to do the work, and someone had mentioned me. At that time, the largest marquetry project I had completed was about one square foot, using my primitive, modified harness maker's bench. This job was 4' x 15' in size, an area of 60 square feet!

Without any hesitation, I proposed delivering the top for $6000 (1976 dollars). I immediately built my first chevalet and a large manual veneer press and, after 300 hours, was driving to LA with a 15' marquetry table top hanging out of the back of the truck.

The lessons I learned on that project are another story.

English Hepplewhite Card Table

I wonder how many antique card tables exist in the world? I know I have seen hundreds of them over the years, in homes, shops, museums, books, and on the bench being repaired. It is amazing to think that practically every home in America or England before 1850 had a card table like every home today has a TV.

I suppose, when you really look at it, the card table satisfied many functions. It could be simply placed against the nearest wall, either closed or open. If it was open, it provided a nice view of the wonderful polished wood against the wall. Either way, it allowed a perfect horizontal surface for candles, pictures and other object d'art. It also could be used as a stand alone table in the room, providing a place for your tea or book next to the sitting area.

The best use, of course, was when company arrived, or during the slow evenings of winter, when it could be opened and provide a perfect small table for games of chance. How different our lives would be if we did not all sit and face the TV but sat across from each other and engaged in traditional social intercourse.

These tables had several options for their operation. In the Federal period, when Hepplewhite and Sheraton designs were popular, they either had 4 legs or 5. These legs were either square tapered or turned, depending on fashion. In either case, there was one or two legs which were attached at the back of the apron with a finger hinge made of wood. Cutting this hinge was a challenge and required exact hand tool skills for proper function.

There was a variation of this form, called a "concertina" action. In this case, the frame of the apron had two parts which expanded, and both back legs remained attached to the rear frame which slid away from the table, allowing the top to flip over. This method was popular in England and not common in America.

During the Empire period the form changed dramatically. Instead of legs at the corners of the frame, the table was supported on a central column, which was normally veneered with figured Cuban mahogany. Since there was no longer a swing leg to support the fold open top, the entire top itself was made to pivot 90 degrees, and when open rested on the fixed frame supported by the pedestal. This provided an added convenience: the top exposed a shallow till inside the frame where the cards could be kept.

I have made several card tables over the years. I enjoy the form and find it a wonderful way to display matched figured boards or veneer to best advantage. It also gives me a chance to use simple marquetry decoration on the legs and apron, which makes these projects attractive.

When I made this table, I copied exactly the original English table which I had on the bench for conservation. In this case both back legs swing, so I had to make a double finger hinge. My initial effort was done in haste, without much concern for details, since my ego was telling me that it was not really a problem. When that effort failed, I tried again, this time slowing down and trying to do it right. Again, when the legs moved 90 degrees they did not remain vertical.

Finally, I returned to the bench with the proper respect for the job. The third time it worked perfectly. To remind myself of this failure of effort, I kept the first two hinges on the shelf, and when I feel that I am not paying attention to my work, I take a few minutes to reflect on the two failures sitting in the corner of the shop.

Next to the first drawer I tried to dovetail in 1969.

Hand Tool Workshop

Yesterday I enjoyed the visit of a respected English antiques author and his wife. As we walked around the place, I began to reflect on how many different visitors have knocked on my door and asked if they could see my workshop. At different times, over the years, I have hosted organized tours for groups like the San Diego Fine Woodworker's Association or the American Society of Appraisers, or different museum docent groups. But the normal visitor is just curious about how a pre industrial wood shop looks and functions.

I don't really spend much time thinking about it, since I live here the majority of the time.

One of the first questions I am asked is "Where did you get all these tools?" And, as most of the published photos of my shop include the wall of tools, I thought I would answer that question.

When I started working on antiques, I decided not to purchase power tools, for several reasons. First, they were expensive, and I was broke. Second, I had never taken a wood shop in my life, so I knew nothing about using woodworking tools. Most importantly, I believed that power tools were dangerous, and I knew about woodworkers who had lost fingers, or their hearing, or developed respiratory problems from breathing dust. Another problem was that my work space at that time was very small, with only room for a bench. In fact, when I started in my garage, the floor was dirt, so it was not practical to even use wheels.

I started by reading books and purchasing small hand tools as needed. A hand saw, jack plane, some chisels, you know, just what I needed to do the job at that moment. As I learned more and more about traditional woodworking "at the bench," I began to travel East and stay with other woodworkers, like Michael Dunbar, who taught me the tricks of the trade.

During the summer of '78, I lived for three months in the parking lot at Winterthur Museum, in Delaware. I walked from my camper at 8am to the library, and returned to my quiet place in the corner of the lot at 10pm after spending all day studying in the library. It was there I discovered Charles Montgomery's research data which listed inventories of the workshops of cabinetmakers who died before 1840. Each inventory provided a list of the wood, hardware and tools which were in the shop at the end of that craftsman's career.

I compiled a comprehensive list of specific tools which were on the different inventories, and, armed with this "shopping" list, began to aggressively seek out these same tools. Fortunately, this was before the internet was developed and before regional tool collecting groups were formed, so I had little competition.

There was a dealer in Maine, I recall, who had a large barn which was completely full of tools. Each table had piles of wood planes, and each table had a set price. One table had $5 tools, another $10, and several tables had really nice tools for $25 each. So I took my shopping list and some cash and began to put together a collection of tools that would be representative of any pre industrial wood shop.

As time went on, there appeared a couple of tool dealers who offered regular sale catalogues. These catalogues were sent out a few times a year, and the dealers made every effort to post them so they would arrive at the same time in all parts of the country. When the mail arrived, I would immediately search through it and call to place my order. I had to select more tools than I wanted, as many of the tools were already sold by the time I got through. It became very competitive, as more people got involved in the search for these artifacts.

On two occasions, by way of these catalogues, I was able to purchase a collection of 75 English Shieffield carving chisels at very good prices. By luck, when I laid out the two collections together, I found that there was very little duplication of shapes. Today, I have over 250 chisels, most made by Addis, a famous chisel maker.

In fact, I now have 850 hand planes, on shelves around the shop. I haven't bought a tool for many, many years now, and I really don't need to look any more. I have a few French planes, several English and the majority of them are American, made before 1850. All are functional, as I was careful to purchase "user" tools and not "collector" tools.

The planes are on both walls of my primary work space, near to the bench. That makes them handy and ready to select when I have the need. I am not sure, but I just might have the best equipped hand tool workshop in the West. It only took 40 years.

Yankee Candlestand

We have probably not given Mr. Edison enough credit. Just try to imagine the amazement that people had just about a century ago at the electric illumination of their homes and streets. Mr. Edison tried hundreds of different types of material in his electric lightbulb invention before he discovered exactly the right material which would burn brightly without destroying itself. Thus, the light bulb was created, and life changed forever.

Imagine a country with a workforce which could only work during daylight hours! Imagine trying to light homes and businesses with gas fixtures, and not have accidents. How did we exist before electric light?

Well, candles have been the standard source of light for thousands of years, and still are preferred when romance is involved. Beeswax and cotton cord combined to produce "one candle power" until the start of the 19th century. At that time, if you wanted to light, for example, the hall of mirrors at Versailles, you needed hundreds of candles, which required dozens of people to keep lit.

Then along came a French man, Mr. Argand, who, in 1780, invented an oil lamp with a circular chimney. The oil saturated wick was circular and the rush of air up the center of the wick created much more light than a single candle. As much as 10 candle power of light from a single lamp. I have a pair of Argand lamps on my sideboard, made in New York by Clark and Coit, which have two wicks on each lamp. Thus, if I could find a source of whale oil, without violating any laws, I would have 40 candle power of light just from these two lamps.

Later in the 19th century, kerosene replaced the more expensive whale oil, but the idea of the circular wick persisted as the most effective way to create light. Unfortunately, both the whale oil and kerosene created black smoke and a smell which did not contribute much to the ambience of the evening.

Thus, I return to the candlestand. This candlestand is a copy of the original which I purchased from that distinguished Yankee lady's estate mentioned yesterday in this blog. It is elegant, simple and very functional. Wherever you wish to sit, it is easy to place this stand close to the chair and it allows a convenient place for your cup of tea and a candle. When not in use, you can tilt the top up and place it in the corner out of the way.

I made this stand out of some wonderful curly maple I purchased from a violin maker. It has a great figure, and takes a wonderful polish. I made the top in two parts, with a bookmatch, just to confuse those collectors in the future who may attempt to pass this table off as antique.

I gave it to my wife, Kristen, on her birthday back in 1988. It remains one of the few pieces of furniture in our house which is not for sale. It is nice to turn off the lights and light a candle.

Roundabout Chair

I have discovered some rare and fine examples of antique furniture in San Diego over the years. As San Diego is not a very old town, compared to the cities on the East Coast, I have developed a theory as to why such important objects from the 18th century should exist here. I think that, as old money and old families decide to leave their East Coast homes, perhaps as a way to find better climates, they often choose between Florida and California. When they move they take only the best pieces in the house, leaving the rest behind, as they downsize. Thus, over the years, nice pieces of antique furniture have been transported West, away from the searching eyes of East Coast antique dealers.

That means that I have little competition for these wonderful objects when they become available on the local market. Since market forces are driven by supply and demand, the down side of this opportunity is that it becomes difficult to sell these early pieces at a good price here. The end result is I purchase and keep, until I run out of room. Fortunately, my workshop and residence are rather large, but also rather full.

An example of this is an estate sale I was involved with in the 80's. The person who passed away was a single lady, nearly 100 years old. She lived in a nice established neighborhood and had moved there around 1900. When she moved to San Diego from New Hampshire she brought the entire contents of her home, and everything was still in place, undisturbed. As I walked through the front door I immediately felt that I was in New Hampshire; it even had that Northern Yankee atmosphere of quiet, solid, conservative, practical and stability. The Grecian rocker sat in front of the fireplace. The wood works clock sat above the mantle. The rugs were hooked oval rag rugs, the candlestick sat quietly on the candlestand. An amazing experience.

The estate had been cleaned up and all the objects were priced for the upcoming sale. The sellers were relatives of the distinguished lady, and were also close personal friends of mine from high school, so I was there to do a favor and verify their pricing before the sale opened.

As I walked from room to room I was transported back in time to the 1790's. As I entered the back bedroom my heart stopped; next to the bed was the bottom half of a Dunlap chest-on-chest. The top was missing and in its place was a mirror so that the piece functioned as a dressing table. But it was impossible to not recognize the base as Dunlap, with the famous bandy legs and shaped apron. It had a price tag of $1100.

I immediately asked, "Is there a chest of drawers in this house?" The reply was "I think in the upstairs bedroom there is a chest." I ran up the stairs, not even breathing. At the back bedroom I found the top half of the Dunlap chest-on-chest, which was sitting on some simple bracket feet. It had a price tag of $800.

I informed my friends that these two pieces were not going to be offered at the sale.

Back at my shop I placed the original top chest on the original bottom chest and stood back to admire the most beautiful John Dunlap chest-on-chest I have seen outside any museum. Research later determined that the last such chest found was in 1952 in Texas, and this example was #29 or 30 of the 32 known to have been produced by Major John Dunlap. In addition, I found that John Dunlap's records included the name of the ancestor of our distinguished lady as the purchaser of this piece, completing the provenance.

It sold for $66,000 at Christies the next year, which in today's money is closer to $250K.

I received a nice commission for my work, and was able to purchase a corner chair and the candlestand (with the candlestick) from the estate. I made copies of both and sold the originals to a New York dealer.

The corner chair I produced was in curly maple, and a lot of fun to make. There is one difference in the copy from the original. The original included a chamber pot under the upholstered slip seat. Not a lot of people realize that the corner chair, and often the Easy chair were chairs of "convenience." These chairs resided in the bedroom and made it "easy" and "convenient" for the owners to relieve themselves in the middle of the night.

The deep apron on this chair was designed to hide the function. I would have included a chamber pot if I could have found the pot. Unfortunately, chamber pots do not survive in the modern age as much as you would think.

Green Antiques

Lately I have been noticing a change in the antiques business. It is not just that the economy has collapsed. It is not only the fact that the housing market is nonexistent. It is not even the problem that antiques have become harder to find; in fact there are more and better pieces available now and at better prices than in the past 30 years.

There is an entire generation of Americans who simply aren't interested in owning or collecting antique objects. Their parents, who have been my clients for years, report that their kids just don't want this stuff. In addition, the parents, who are of my generation, are logically downsizing and would like to pass on their collection, but the kids walk away.

Some of this I attribute to the failure of education in America. Without getting too political, I always believed that an educated population was the natural strength of any country. Creativity, aptitude, initiative, research, and a diverse educational background all combined to make this country the world's leader during the 20th century. When I entered U.C.S.D. in the 60's as a freshman, Dr. Saltman (the Provost) addressed us as we were the first freshman class of the new university, and he wanted us to understand that we would become "renaissance men." In addition to my studies in math and science, I was required to study history, humanities, literature, music, religion, and many other subjects which represented a diverse spectrum of Western Civilization.

I realized the importance of this approach when I decided, for many reasons, to walk away from the nuclear physics industry and teach Decorative Arts classes, while simultaneously opening a pre industrial furniture conservation business. I thought to myself, if I can do physics, how much harder is it to fix furniture?

In fact I became a green business which relied entirely on recycling materials, organic glues and finishes, and human power. At the time no one was concerned about global warming, depletion of natural resources, or the ozone layer. Now everyone is discussing the problems of industrialization. All business has become "green" and "organic" as a selling point.

I assume that antiques, by their nature, will not disappear from the earth. They have been around for centuries, and at different periods have been ignored or sought after. The collecting of well made and well designed objects will always be significant. But, when this young generation realizes that the early furniture represents a balanced management of the hardwood forests, with raw material harvested by humans and animals, transported by sea using wind power, worked into the final form entirely without a "carbon footprint" and finished with insect excretion, how can they not be interested?

Finally, the picture shows me fixing yet another broken table. This poor Victorian table has been repaired by some farmer, using what was available to him in the barn. Although he made considerable damage to the table at the time, he prevented his wife from throwing it out. Thus his efforts kept it alive, until it became valuable enough for a professional restoration effort.

I can report this table is now back on its feet, and you need to look very closely to see any damage. The next generation of collectors will have the opportunity to discover it in some dusty antique shop and place it proudly in the center of their room for all to see.

Heros

I have been honored to have met great men in my life. I guess it is true that your life is shaped by those who you meet, and tempered by those who meet you. No man is an island, they say.

I am lucky that I live 6 blocks from work. I have often thought about how many times I have walked or ridden my bike those 6 blocks in the past 40 years. It is a perfect break and gives me time to reflect on my life.

One day this thought came to me as I walked home from a very fulfilling day at the bench:

A strong man knows when to quit.

A great man goes beyond what is possible.

A wise man knows his limits, paces himself, and realizes his full potential in the time he has been given.

It is curious how the mind works. I am not a poet, but I often reflect on how words can create ideas. I enjoy writing, and part of the meaning of the above thought for me is that I need to start working on my book. This blog has given me purpose, and I hope others see in it something of value.

For years I watched Roy Underhill perform on his famous show, The Woodwright's Shop on PBS. I was impressed with his style and his knowledge of the trades, as well as his passion for life. When he asked me to participate in his show in 2008, I was honored. Working with Roy reinforced my opinion as to what a great man he was. We became close friends, and when he announced the opening of his school earlier this year, I sent him a "woodworker's toast."

May Your Chisel Rest Sharp.

May Your Saw Stay Straight.

May Your Plane Prove True.

And

May Your Feet Rest On Shavings

All The Days Of Your Work.

I ask all woodworkers who have been enthused by watching Roy over the years to contact him and tell him how important his work has been. He deserves it.