Arts and Mysteries: Adam Cherubni

Kelly graciously invited me to teach a few classes in his school in Kentucky. I've never been there, but Chris Schwarz has taught there and really likes it.

I'm teaching two classes at Kelly's in 2009: A seminar called "18th c Tools and Techniques" and a project class in which we'll try to build a Philadelphia style Spice Chest.

I'm particularly excited about the Tools and Techniques class. This is something a little out of the ordinary. If you read Stunt Man, you know I am really passionate about applying athletic like training to woodworking. Focus on the race is important. But success on race day, really does have a lot to do with how much training you've put into it. That's exactly how I'm looking at this Tool and Techniques class. It's your chance to spend a few days honing your abilities, and broadening your horizons.

The Spice Chest class will be an introduction to basic carcase joinery and Philadelphia style drawer making. This will be an 18th c hand tools only class. So leave your tape measures at home next to yourdigital miter gauges. Puffy shirts won't be required.

Details for these classes and many others Kelly offers are available on line at: http://www.kellymehler.com/

Adam

Registration for January's "Working Wood in the 18th Century" Conference opened recently. The topic this year is bedroom furniture.

Some of you may be thinking that you are happy with your water bed, you aren't interested in sleeping on ropes, so you'll pass on this one. Two words for you: Big Mistake. The actual projects are fairly inconsequential for period furniture makers. I just took a look at the brochure; Looks like Kaare will be carving a cabriole leg (for a bed, no less). Smart woodworkers go for the sub-processes.

I think beds will be neat to see. There's a lot of interesting issues with bedding and bedroom furniture from this period. Bedchambers were typically public rooms in the 18th c., not the private rooms they are today. But even if you are not thinking of building a bed in the next few years, GO ANYWAY!

The fellowship of all the attendees makes this pilgrimage worth it. It's just a great group of folks. Last year, we held the first meeting of the new Leather Apron Club. A small group gathered on Sunday morning between the two sessions to discuss the future of period woodworking, what our needs were, and how we could better help one another. If I am living and breathing, I'd like to do it again next year.

You can register on line for the conference here: http://www.history.org/history/institute/institute_about.cfm

There are two sessions. These things and the on-campus hotel rooms fill up fast. I'm going to the first session. The sapfm meeting is traditionally held during the second. If you register for the first, be sure to track me down and say hello! Maybe we can grab a slice together at Sal's (on Richmond Road) or down a pint of Boddington's at the Green Leaf.

If you are on the fence about the subject, but are interested in period woodwork, GO.

Adam

My Sister in law Sally wanted to do something, to help her Mother who is suffering with Parkinson's disease. Sally is a Broadway singer, actress, and despite her athletic family, not a confident athlete. Perhaps because of this, she convinced her friends to donate money to Parkinson's by creating her own mini triathlon. Sally trained hard, overcoming her inexperience cycling and swimming, two of the most challenging events for triathletes. Her brother Bob, truly a man made of steel, decided to accompany her for moral support. Stupidly, I decided to join them.

The particulars seemed easy enough: Sally's triathlon consisted of a 1/2 mile swim, a 12 mile bike ride, followed by a 3 mile run. For any active person, none of these are too terribly difficult. As a hand tool woodworker, a certain level of physical fitness is necessary, and to some extent, inescapable. My Brother in law Bob calls this "blue collar buff". It's the strength that comes naturally from a life of manual labor. But the trick to the triathlon is the cumulative effect of the exertion plus the necessity to perform the transitions quickly. So even a modest "sprint" triathlon like this one is still a fairly significant physical effort.

I'm an experienced cyclist, swimmer, and runner. I completed a triathlon twice this length 20 years ago without any trouble. But that was 20 years ago. Since then, I've swam little, and cycled less. But I have been jogging a bit. So I didn't feel entirely unprepared. But make no mistake about it, this was a stunt. It wasn't a fair representation of my athletic skill or fitness. I guess I don't generally define survival as success. And if you are wondering what any of this has to do with woodworking, I guess I see this triathlon exactly like so many woodworking projects I've attempted. I really think we can't wait until the event itself to train. Not only does that make the event itself less enjoyable, it shifts the focus from creating beauty to a mere matter of survival. Perhaps more corrosively, it diminishes the achievement, making it less a pronouncement of skill and more a matter of perseverance.

I don't want to take anything away from those of us who have squeezed out the tiger maple highboys through gritted teeth. I certainly do respect perseverance and a "can do" attitude. But I see my Sister in law's dedication to training the approach that I'd like to emulate. Her graceful finish was all the more beautiful for it.

Adam

>

There are a couple different configurations of period joined stools and formes. The forme I made recently features a lower stretcher that connects the legs. This is a standard English style. Formes with a central stretcher are also known. In this case, the stretcher is in the middle of the forme, directly under the seat and ties to the end stretchers.

Period formes are often a bit taller than I made mine (my log was only 35" long, just tall enough to get two legs out of each riven piece). People put their feet on the lower stretchers to keep them off of the cold floor, which may have been earthen or stone in the 17th c, but likely cold in any time.

In use, I find the stretcher connecting the legs a bit problematic. You can't get your feet very close to the table when serving. This is a problem period servers didn't have. Dining in the 17th c often looked a bit like the famous painting of the Last Supper, with Christ and his disciples all seated on one side of a long table. I always thought this was artistic license, allowing Da Vinci the ability clearly show each disciples face. But in fact, this is the way many people of that time (Da Vinci's time, not Christ's) ate. They were seated on one side of a table and served from the other.

Attitudes about dining and servitude changed (thankfully) and people began eating at more egalitarian oval tables. They were served plates of food or elegant serving dishes that allowed them to serve themselves.

As we design and build period furniture, it can be helpful to learn the context in which the originals were used. I was supposed to build two or three of these formes, at least one long forme and possibly two shorter. I've only finished the one thus far. I'll move that one to the far side of the table against the wall so I can better serve my disciples their chicken nuggets and mac and cheese.

— Adam

I really appreciate the overwhelming response I received from my tool offerings. Thank you all so much for your interest and support. It really means a lot to me personally.

As I said when I started accepting orders for tools 2 months ago, I have no intention of making tools full time. I am first and foremost a period cabinetmaker. I feel doing the work has informed my sensibilities regarding tools and I have no doubt that will continue.

I'm not sure what the future holds for me. I'm hoping to produce tools on speculation and sell them as they become available. This will allow me greater design freedom and perhaps the ability to use whatever materials I have on hand at the moment. I'm not exactly sure how this will work. But I'll post information here and at AdamCherubini.com.

Current customers whose orders have not shipped may be permitted to increase their order. As I think of it, if your order has already shipped, I can probably be persuaded to make additional tools to complete a set. As a woodworker first, merchant second, I sympathize with the deep desire to have complete matching sets of tools! I love matching sets of tools.

Adam

P.S. Maybe I need to say clearly- I'm not going "out of business", I'm not broke. I'm working hard on filling the orders I have at present and will continue to do so happily. But I'm also continuing to build furniture, write magazine articles, and prepare for some really awesome public appearances including the Woodworking in America conference. Being able to meet my commitments in the uncompromising way to which I'm accustomed means I have turn off the tool making at present.

I had the privilege to host the Philadelphia Museum of Art's secret weapon, carver/conservator Chris Storb a few weeks ago. Chris isn't just an expert carver, he's intimately familiar with 18th c work and especially familiar with Philadelphia work.

Chris is a fantastic source for not only how to do it, but also specifically what was done. This makes him particularly rare. These two bits of information are more typically found in two different people (expert period woodworkers for the how, and furniture curators for the what). So it was with great pleasure that Chris agreed to visit my shop and let me painstakingly photograph him carving a Philadelphia style ball and claw foot. I'm looking forward to sharing what I learned from Chris in an upcoming issue of your favorite woodworking magazine.

Adam

Chris Storb Links:

• Access Privileges from my blog
• Two American Masters from my blog
• "antiques and fine Art" magazine

>

Piccolo Adamo with Great Aunt Rosa, outside Brescia Italy, 1968.

Who is Adam Cherubini? Why does he do it? Where is he going? Find out here.

Adam

As you will soon learn in your favorite magazine, I am building a chippendale chair. So naturally I'm looking at as many chairs as possible. I've had the opportunity to examine reproductions old and new, as well as many fine originals. Speaking of which, there's a nice display of chairs in Winterthur's little museum space (not the period rooms). It's in the gallery downstairs from the Dominy Shop. Don't miss the story about regionalism there. I like to argue that there's no such thing as regionalism, or at least that assigning styles to regions is imprecise. You can see evidence for and against in this exhibit.

Anyway, what I'm struck by is how similar chairs are to people. Modern chairs seem to be bigger than period chairs. Sometimes you do see an overall scale change. My friend Paul and I were recently examining the Windsors in the PMoA. They are indeed diminutive compared to many (but not all) modern repros. But that's not what I'm talking about.

It's true that Philadelphia chairs tended to be higher than English chairs. Thomas Chippendale set the height of chair backs at 39" as I recall. Philadelphia chairs are typically over 40" (it's a regional thing). But that's not what I'm talking about either!

What I'm talking about is the wood stretcher. You know, that special machine that makes wood that was cut too short or planed too thin larger. We first learned about it in Junior High wood shop class, remember? We cut a piece of pine too short for the candle stand we were making and we asked our woodshop teacher for help. He said "Oh, you'll have to put that in the wood stretcher (meaning scrap bin) and get a new piece".

Maybe the chiding scarred us for life. Maybe the act of wasting material we love just goes against our natures. Maybe woodworkers are naturally risk averse. Whatever the reason, it seems modern woodworkers always want to leave a little extra just in case. The result is often blocky looking furniture, that would work better in the Flintstone's house.

Look how delicate the ankle is on this chair. Magnificent, isn't it?



I've been practicing carving these legs for months and none of mine look like this. It seems to me I have to work right to my line and be very aggressive with my gouges. But I am inhibited by my shop's huge wood stretcher.

Adam

I've been offering my sense of the changing world of reproduction furniture making for a few years now. I won't repeat it here accept to say yesterday's reproductions probably won't be viewed as accurate by scholars (and thus museum visitors, and thus furniture customers) in the future. The reason is that our understanding of period furniture is continuing to grow and change.

Just some quick definitions before I continue. (Please correct me if I get this wrong.) History is the study of the past through documentary evidence. Anthropology is the study of the past through oral tradition and contemporary human behavior. Archeology is the study of the past through found artifacts (like furniture? Does that make us archeologists in a way? I think so).

So if our understanding of furniture is changing, is archeology changing? You bet. Less than a hundred years ago, a pre-eminent archeologist drove his motorcade into the desert with his native porters, interpreters, and diggers. Their goal? Find the treasure and claim it for the British Museum. Howard Carter, the archeologist who found King Tut's tomb, the archeologist on whom Indiana Jones was patterned, didn't set up string lines and wasn't interested in midden pile analysis. Archeology has come a long long way.

For the most part, archeologists don't generally intersect our sphere. Unless you read Archeology magazine, or National Geographic, you may not know the name of a single archeologist. But one name you should know is Dr. James Deetz. Deetz' excellent little book, "In Small things Forgotten: The Archeology of Early American Life" provides us with a deeper understanding of the people who made the things we reproduce. It offers explanations of iconographic motifs we may encounter in our work. I think it's a must read.

In addition to being a fine archeologist, Deetz was also the Assistant Director of Plimoth Planation 1967-1978 where he:

"transformed Plimoth Plantation from a mannequin-furnished commemoration of the Mayflower passengers to a vibrant living history museum replete with accurately-costumed character interpreters engaged in the nitty-gritty of daily life."
(from Marley Brown, linked above)

Personally, I don't care for first person interpreting. Exposition, communicating the basic who, what, when, where, and how, can be particularly challenging for both interpreter and visitor alike. Viewed in this light, it seems a step backward, making the topic more difficult to understand instead of less so. But for Deetz, who was at least in part if not wholly responsible for the first person interpretation at Plimoth, the goal was to communicate more than the basic text book facts. He wanted us to get to know the people of Plimoth intimately.

Like many other pursuits, the bar of basic competency is rising for interpreters, and reproduction furniture makers alike. This is the way of things. I think it's okay to let the bar drift over our heads and continue on as we have. Many of us have started so far under the bar that it's difficult to see from where we now stand. What I don't think is okay is denying the existence of the bar. I think a quick read through Deetz' book, preferably followed by a visit to Plimoth will be all the proof you need.

Adam
P.S. I guess I should add that I see the exposition as similar to the dimensions of a piece of furniture. You can get those right and still miss the mark (as many have). My story about Deetz intends to relate the intimate understanding of past cultures to the intimate understanding of objects like furniture. This is in part what "Material Culture" is all about. Grad students taking part in Winterthur's Masters program in American Material Culture are learning about furniture and expressing values that were unknown to the Carter/Nutting collectors.

As many of you know, I demonstrate early woodwork at Pennsbury Manor. We were visited a few weeks ago by a reporter from a local newspaper who wanted to see why we do what we do. You can read his column here.

I never feel I do a good job speaking to the press. On a recent interview for a podcast, I took a simple 20 minute question and answer and turned it into an hour long bore-fest. One needs to answer clearly and succinctly and quickly. It's a skill I don't have. Guys like Schwarz are great at this.

Anyway, my concern about the fellow from the newspaper was that he was going to paint us as freaks and geeks. And tho some of us may fit that description, I thought that would be dismissive. And in Pennsbury Manor's case, many of the volunteers are highly skilled. I don't think it's fair to describe their motivation as "wishing they were back in time".

Looks like I got quoted a lot, which, given the controversial nature of what I was saying, is to be expected. The first quote:

“Some of us might have made unsatisfying career choices,” Cherubini said, “or maybe the woman controls the house; so in the workroom, we want to be able to make that .0001-inch slice so we can say we control something — 17th-century woodworking demands that kind of precision.”

This is my theory of why 17th c work or period work in general is not as popular with woodworkers. What I actually said was something to the effect that as we get older, we find ourselves recognizing that we cannot effect the changes we want at work, our children make choices we wish they didn't, our wives make all of the important decisions for our home and family, and the general sphere of our influence shrinks. And for some, it may come as some comfort that at least in our workshops, we can control the cuts we make to .001" precision. We may not welcome the axe to decide the shape of a piece. To let the grain dictate form is a sort of controlled crash that I think many woodworkers simply can't abide. I enjoy that uncertainty. I think it's authentic to the period. Feel free to disagree, but that's where I was going.

“Sure, you can pretend you're at a Star Trek convention when you see people like us,” said Cherubini about re-enactors. “First, I don't consider myself a re-enactor. We are craft demonstrators.”

In this quote, I was just trying to make the point that the clothes we wear are there for the visitors, not to establish a character we are role playing (like a re-enactor perhaps) or to establish ourselves as members of a clique (like folks may at a Star Trek convention). I went on to explain the differences between first person interpreters (who essentially role play), third person interpreters (what I do), and docents or tour guides. Coincidentally, one of the first people to define and differentiate these terms was fellow Pennsbury volunteer interpreter Stacy Roth, who's book , remains a seminal must read text on the subject.

“And we're not a subculture,” said Cherubini. “We're not all nostalgic for the past — not that most people really think about whether we have real lives when they see us here anyway. What's important is that we need to balance our lives. ... We've worked in high-stress jobs, or we don't have enough control over our lives. When we come here, we get to decide for ourselves, be deliberate and share.”

This last quote is a combination of different conversations (during which I was riving and planing stock, btw) and the last sentence is a bit too succinct for me to believe I actually said it.

In terms of why we do what we do, I think there's a common motivation to present our crafts. In my case, I want to represent not my woodworking skill, but the skills and values of early craftsmen. I don't want folks to see me struggling with my tools, or fussing with a plane that isn't sharp. I want my visitors to see what I think the craft looked like then. Fast and efficient.

In terms of balance, I've noticed anecdotally, that a lot of the hand tool folks I encounter come from high tech jobs. The need for balance was my guess as to why. Personally, when I'm done working on a computer all day, I don't want to sit in front of one all night.

I don't want to pick on the journalist. I think it's great that he chose this subject and I think whatever preconceived notions he had coming in, he did a good job writing what he heard. I think it's an interesting, and very complex subject. What I've written above is my sense for it. If you are an interpreter, I'd like to hear yours.

Adam

I've been working on making chisels for close to 9 months now. I've finally made up a number of sets for review. As comments come back, I'll make some final tweaks. If the reviewers simply don't care for these, this product will likely die on the vine. But if everything works out as I expect, I should be able to offer 18th c style firming chisels with features and sizes that make sense for the work we do. These won't be clones of other chisels on the market. They are a new look at what chisels are for, what features they should have, what matters and what doesn't. My hope is that they offer serious woodworkers a new perspective on the oldest woodworking tool.

Adam

"Popular Woodworking" magazine is once again redefining, er, well, popular woodworking. For years Pop Wood, as we affectionately call it, has been driven not by business majors and polls, but by enthusiasts. And this is clearly evident in the content of the magazine. I believe pop wood's sister publication, Woodworking Magazine , was the first to be published without ads. Now, it appears, "Woodworking Magazine" is the first web based magazine on the subject. Though he may quibble, much of this is the doing of Pop Wood's Editor in Chief, Chris Schwarz. Not content to stop there, the folks at the helm of the Popular Woodworking's ship have set a course to redefine the woodworking show.

What they've done is assemble the who's who of hand tool woodworking and gather high end hand tool makers from across the North American continent. There will be a marketplace like other shows, but there will also be instruction including hands-on clinics. This is a woodworking show that will expose you to the latest greatest tools, but will also offer clinics to help make you a better woodworker. The clinics will have small class sizes and top instructors, often times several in a single clinic to give you a well rounded look at the subject. Sign up now to reserve your spot. Registration opened earlier this week.

I know some of you simply won't be able to go. Not to worry. Events like these have a way of changing things long after the date has passed. I think we'll see a different world of woodworking after mid November.

But this conference is your chance to steer the ship yourself. The tool makers, magazine editors, and writers lucky enough to attend, will leave the conference changed by the face to face meetings with the participants.

Adam

One of the unique things about Popular Woodworking's Arts and Mysteries column is that it has long, sometimes year long, series. Let's face it. Woodworking magazines have been in print for a long long time. Almost everything has been written or done before.

Well, that's not quite true. See, the basic structural way magazine articles are written effects the final product. If you have a team of editors and cameramen traveling to an author, you can only get so much of the "in-process" detail. My "forme" took me over a week to build. And I was snapping pictures, and writing the article at each phase in the construction while all the details were fresh in my mind.

PW encourages authors to be photographers. This has got to be cheaper than sending crews to faraway lands. But I see a huge advantage to this arrangement. I think we can look at a subject in levels of detail never before possible. Digital photography has really helped make this possible. But the vision and leadership of Popular Woodworking magazine has brought it to print.

Next time you are reading your favorite ww magazine, ask yourself if the pictures you see are staged and if you are really getting a detailed accounting of construction. Had I never written for a magazine, I doubt I would ask myself this question, which is why I pose it here. How does the structure of the relationship between author and publisher effect the final product we read?

To my thinking, it's almost like the difference between a documentary and a dramatic scripted film. I think I prefer the documentary. Especially those revolutionary war documentaries on the History channel.! It's amazing how that film has lasted this long!

Adam

P.S. I don't get the History channel :(

To hear Chris Schwarz describe it, writing for Popular Woodworking meant endless parties and very little "real" work. Now in my fourth year, I find it more similar to a vocational calling than a non-stop frat house party. Chris was joking of course. But many of my friends don't seem to understand why I do what I do. "Doesn't it make you feel good to see your name in print?" they ask. In a word, no. It doesn't.

I think writing a column like Arts and Mysteries is more like teaching. You don't do it for the money. And though you will become known, and may even become famous in some circles, you don't do it for the fame.

But the job is not without it's rewards. And last week, I got one of the biggest bonuses any teacher could hope for. I was contacted by a fellow in California who wanted to honor a fellow teacher's 40 years of service. He thought my standing desk would be perfect, with a few small changes. He used the parametric plans to scale down the design to suit. I think he did a pretty good job.


Coach B with teacher Kathy King


Looks pretty comfortable to me. Nice job Coach!


Coach shows off his skills on the interior with beautiful Tiger Maple.

So why do I write? Because every now and again, I get an email like this one.

Adam