Jennie Alexander’s Tie
Jennie Alexander, unknown, me, and Carl Swensson in Alexander’s shop, testing a new shaving-horse designed by Carl. April 2002.
Twenty-three years ago I worked with green woodworking pioneer Jennie Alexander for three weeks. It was a major experience for me: I’d never spent time in a big city (Baltimore) before, never traveled alone (by train) before, never lived with someone so eccentric before. Here’s a story – one of many – about my time with Jennie:
“I have the range of a frog, but I do like to sing.” Jennie and I were flying down one of those big noisome roads that surround every large city and have the personality of a cement mixer. We could have been in Portland or Palm Beach or Istanbul for all you could tell by looking. We happened to be in Baltimore, going to Macy’s to buy Jennie a tie for her Jazz combo’s upcoming wedding gig.
“I love this — we’ll have some fun at Macy’s expense.”
The debonair salesman looked sideways at Jennie’s stained shop pants and frayed dress shirt as he let the way to the ties. I was a scrawny 17-year-old kid, wearing jeans a couple sizes too big and a thrift store tee-shirt with large horizontal red stripes. This outfit seemed normal to me.
Jennie rummaged through the ties, not finding what she wanted. “How much are these anyways?” she asked in a rather loud voice.
“They start about $65 and go up.”
“Gosh, that much? My, my. I’d better count my pennies.” said Jennie. The salesman looked like he’d rather be selling ties to a snake. But just then an older well-dressed couple came in the front door, and relief spread like a balm across the salesman’s face.
“My associate, Joe, will be happy to help you,” and he hastened away.
Joe was tall, young, and nervous. Jennie’s voice immediately softened. “I’ll take this tie. Do you have any suits?”
Jennie quickly picked out a $500 suit, had a seamstress with a French accent fit it for her (I had a swift crush on the seamstress), and we checked out. At the cash register, I noticed the older couple leaving empty-handed.
On our way out laden with packages, our debonair salesman looked downright shocked.
“Tootle-loo” said Jennie.
SALE: Spoon, Bowl, and Fan-Bird Videos
I don’t carve many spoons, but spoon carving is in the air this week. Yesterday I went to the log yard to get a white oak. What looked like the best log had metal in it – a problem for sawmills, but not for riven chair parts – so Junior gave the log to me for free. “Just make me a spatula,” he said as I left. (I split the log open yesterday and didn’t find any metal, just lots of hidden knots). Then today I hauled out my roll of sloyd knives in preparation for a friend’s bachelor party in which one of the events is carving a spoon in my shop.
So in honor of carving, and labor day, and maybe a labor-day spent carving, I’m running a 50%-off sale all the spoon, bowl, and fan-bird-carving videos that I did with Curtis Buchanan, Jane Mickelborough, Peter Follansbee, and Dave Fisher. Plus, a milk paint video with Curtis that has a lot of info on painting spoons.
More info about the videos here.
Happy carving!
Monstrous Turning
I came down with a cold this morning, so I’m watching videos. This one is pretty astounding: hewing and turning a huge shaft for a mill’s water-wheel (go here to watch the foresters fell the oak and the carters haul it to the mill with a pair of draft horses – also astounding).
Back at the mill, two carpenters arrive to make the log into a shaft. With the help of the millwright and his boy, they roll the log onto a hewing frame (thanks to YouTube for helping translate – a poor option, but better than nothing).
I admire the hewing in it’s accuracy. I never did much of this work. I enjoy it, but my elbows would be aching after a short stint. I have no problem splitting logs with a sledge, but hewing is subtly different and I haven’t learned to use my body properly with it. Youth is the right time to learn, when the body is flexible enough to forgive your transgressions. Once your muscles have learned to do the work efficiently, and in a relaxed manner, you can often do heavy work like this into your old age (so long as you do it regularly). Beginning in middle age is not so easy (so I’m learning).
The weather is so cold, they warm the hewing ax over the fire to prevent its edge chipping.
“Thank God” says the head carpenter after the last stroke of the hewing hatchet on the squared blank. I think I understand.
Turning the shaft is amazing. You’ll have to see it for yourself (18:00-minute mark).
They insert the bearing into the butt (root-end) of the log, which is harder and less crack-prone. They shrink on iron bands, and then they are done (or at least the video is – attaching the wheel and mounting goes uncovered).
I’m trying to work out if they did all that work in one day. I think it’s possible, but I really don’t know. Regardless, these two videos are some of the best I’ve seen. What do you think?
New Classes and Old
I’m starting to get back in the swing of things again. I’ve been working on a settee and a set of barstools, visiting my mom a lot, getting my book finalized, going through my father’s papers. Recently, I found this:
These directions guided my dad and me to Jonesborough, TN in April of 2002. My first visit to Curtis Buchanan’s. From there, the direction of my life became gradually clear, and it revolved around Curtis’s chair shop.
Now, 23 years later, I teach chairmaking. This year, I have two classes booked in August and October; both have had cancellations and so now have openings. And I’ve added two more classes, for a total of four this year. Here’s the lineup, all with openings:
LOOP BACK SIDE CHAIR
August 4th to 9th, 2025 (at my shop)
September 8th to 13th, 2025 (at my shop)
GREEN WOOD WEEK with Eric Cannizzaro October 6th to 10th, 2025 (at the Lost Art Press shop near Cincinnati)
18th CENTURY LOOP BACK WINDSOR CHAIR
December 1st to 6th, 2025 (at my shop)
My Papa’s Coffin
Philip Bizzarri ca. 1994
My kind, sweet, gentle papa passed on May 1st. It was both expected and unexpected, the best possible passing and the saddest day of my life. My wife Morgan, my mother, and I were all there, holding his hand.
Driving down to my parent’s house that morning, I decided I wanted to make the coffin. Then I decided I wanted help. So I asked some of my closest friends to come build the coffin with me: Peter Ross, Roy Underhill and Bill Anderson.
For the sides of the coffin, Roy gave me two boards that had been part of the set of The Woodwright’s Shop. I probably watched them on TV when I was 7 or 8 years old. For the top and bottom, I found some pine seat blanks that wouldn’t make good seats, and planed them down thin.
Then Bill pontificated….
…Peter pointed….
…we sawed kerfs in the sides so they’d bend….
….and drilled nail holes so they wouldn’t split.
We poured boiling water over the sides….
…nailed them on with Peter’s nails…
… and bent them around the bottom.
We made the lid and handles…
…. and attached the guiding star Bill had made.
Then the coffin was done.
Three days later, Papa’s body was buried at a conservation cemetery near our home. Building that coffin was the most important – and the shortest lived – thing I’ve ever made. Thank you Bill, thank you Roy, and thank you Peter for carrying me through.
And thank you Papa for being you.
I love you.
Two New Classes
If this year has a theme, it’s called Lost Art Press. Chris Schwartz was here a couple weeks ago taking photos for my new book (if we’re lucky, it may be available by the end of the year). Then he’s coming back in April to film a video of me teaching my mentor Curtis Buchanan how to build the chair in the book (this was Curtis’s idea and I’m really excited about it). And in October, I’m going to be teaching a class with Eric Cannizzaro at the Lost Art Press shop in Cincinnati (another thing I’m really excited about). We’ll be making lots of green woodworking projects, including pitchforks.
I know, I know, nobody needs a wooden pitchfork. In fact, one of the students in our last class said “what am I going to do with that?” when we showed them the project on the first day. But by the end of the week, everyone was hooked. There’s a variety of different skills in a pitchfork, each one building on the last. The skills are useful for many other things – like chair parts, for instance – but the process is as laid-back as can be. Making pitchforks, in short, is super fun. We’ll be doing a number of other projects too, like spoons, brooms, firewood carriers, tool handles and fan birds. (More info about the class at the Lost Art Press website).
With the book and video out of the way, I’m ready to start teaching a little more in my shop. So I’m adding a loop back chairmaking class May 5th-10th. Because of the demand I’ve been experiencing for these classes, I’m trying a new registration method: send me an email by 8am Eastern on March 12th and I’ll add your name to the lottery to get into the class. Then, if you get in, you’ll pay a $200 deposit to register (the remainder of the $1800 fee is due when you get here). My website has more info.
Black Ash Pack-Basket Class
“Penny Hewitt runs a great class,” Curtis Buchanan told me after traveling to Vermont to make a pack basket with her. “She’s personable and laid-back, and she knows her stuff. You should have her teach at your shop.”
A couple weeks ago, Penny emailed me, asking to do just that. I’m delighted to have her. Black ash baskets have interested me since I set up a booth in Jamin Uticone’s tent at a local music festival twenty years ago. I was demonstrating turning; he was beating on a log with a hammer. Crowds gathered around him like moths to a flame, drawn by the steady rhythmic sounds of his sledge. He peeled the log apart growth-ring by growth-ring, then spent hours scraping the material to a smooth and supple perfection. He and I were working the same material – ring-porous hardwood – but our understanding and use of the material couldn’t have been more different. I was splitting the log like firewood; he was de-laminating it year-by-year. I was carving it to shape while he was weaving it like cloth.
These days, ash is on the road to extinction, taking this ancient craft with it. Learn how before it’s too late:
Make your own basket and learn one of the oldest crafts in human history. For thousands of years baskets served as indispensable objects in every culture. Carry on the tradition and take home a beautiful, durable and useful basket crafted from responsibly harvested, hand pounded black ash logs. In this two day workshop, you will weave a traditional Adirondack-style pack basket with cedar runners and base and adjustable webbing harness. This roughly 18” tall basket is made to last and be used.
February 22nd and 23rd, 2025 – $550 (visit the class page for more info).
Raw Tools
In light of the positive response to Elia’s midsummer wild hair to sell reduced-price Reamers in the Raw — and because it’s just an all-around good idea — we’ve decided to expand the concept. We are now pleased to offer both Travishers in the Raw and Tenon Cutters in the Raw.
I’m coming up on eight years working with Elia at Hand Tool Woodworking. For most of that time I’ve been carving out a niche as resident toolmaker, primarily producing our travishers and tenon cutters. While making hundreds of the same tool can get repetitive, it thankfully also lends itself to gradual refinement. Knowing that each batch of tools I make has been a slight improvement on the previous batch keeps things interesting and preserves a creative spark.
Over time our tools have become more precise, more practical, more consistently uniform, and — if I may say so — easier on the eyes. This has been a collaborative process, often with me problem-finding through hands-on workflow hiccups and Elia problem-solving by acquiring the right equipment or nifty jig-making. All of this takes time and has led to steady increases in our tool prices. By selling these tools “in the raw” we will be able to still provide quality tools at a reduced price and leave the level of finishing up to you.
When Elia first brought up this idea I was unsure about it. How would I feel about stopping at a certain point in the toolmaking process before a tool was finished according to my normal standards? It’s been an adjustment, but a good one. I’ve had to look through my toolmaking “recipes” and figure out which steps could be reasonably passed on to an adventurous end-user with some brief instruction — or even left undone and still produce a working tool. It’s actually been fun to whip through a couple batches of tools in record time and shake up my routine.
So what will you get? For the travishers, I’ve done the essential tooling of the brass soles but the blending and smoothing of those cuts is left undone. Each sole is matched to the individual blade that comes with the tool, but the blades will need to be sharpened. For the body of the tool, aesthetic chamfers and sanding have been omitted, as well as our shellac finish. Each tool will, however, come with an instruction list on how to make it workable at minimum, and how to — if so inclined — make it sexy. Both standard and wide-radius versions are available on our travishers page for $150 each, half the price of our finished tools.
For the tenon cutters, I’ve cut the blade beds, reamed the cutting holes, turned the handles, and hollow-ground the blades. All that’s left on these, besides finishing, will be to hone and set the blades. Setting can be a little tricky, but instructions are included and I’m always an email away for stubborn cases. All three of our standard sizes are available on our tenon cutters page for $70 each (also half our normal price).
So, while this won’t give you a purely soup-to-nuts DIY experience, it will hopefully provide an affordable and moderately challenging option for those of you who would like these tools, but have been hindered by the price tag.
Here’s to wild hairs, and may your blades be sharp enough to split them!
Boiled Joints
I have finished writing my book about Samuel Wing. Sure, there’s still editing to be done, but that never ends. The Lost Art Press folks will be here in February to photograph the book and we’ll go from there. Jeff Lefkowitz just sent me the proofs for a set of chair plans to go with the book and Curtis Buchanan and I are signing a contract with Lost Art Press to publish a video on making the chair. The video was Curtis’s idea. I learned chairmaking from Curtis, but this video is going to be me teaching Curtis how to build the Samuel Wing chair. I’m really excited.
The last section of the book that I wrote was about some old post-and-rung chair joints that I inherited from Jennie Alexander, part of her huge collection of old busted chair joints. Here’s a photo of the tenons:
And here’s the mortise (sawn in half):
This mortise is the real kicker. How did all that fuzzy-looking wood from the mortise get into the notch in the tenon? There’s so much wood in there that when Alexander pulled one of the joints apart with brute force, the tenon pulled huge splinters from the mouth of the mortise. That’s one tight joint!
Over the years, I tried various ways of making this joint. Even the most promising and oft-touted option – green mortises and dry tenons – never produced satisfactory results. Finally I stumbled on this video while learning to make wheels for my first wheelbarrow class with Peter Ross:
Beginning at the 10 minute and 30 second mark, the wheelwright puts the hub in a vat of boiling water, leaves it there for three and a half hours, then drives his notched spokes into the softened hub. The hub is able to compress an amazing amount. My heart started beating faster. Would this work with chair rungs? I quickly made a test joint and tried it. It worked, but one inaccurate joint isn’t much of a test. I began boring 20 or 30 holes in various pieces of green and dry oak, maple and hickory. I labeled them all, then brought them back into the house to boil:
Then I went back out to the shop to turn the tenons from air-dry hardwood – oak and hickory mostly. For consistencies sake, I turned them with a turner’s gate exactly 1/16″ bigger in diameter than the mortises. I turned a notch in them with the skew and rounded the ends. For fun, I made one tenon that was 1/8″ bigger in diameter than the mortises (the mortises were 5/8″, so this tenon was 3/4″). After twenty minutes the tenons were done and I got the boiled mortises and began driving them together:
All the tenons went into the mortises without cracking. Even the one 1/8″ oversized tenon went in; it dimpled the mortise some, but didn’t crack it. Amazing! But would these joints stay tight? I threw them in the attic to dry:
It’s been almost a year since I made these test joints. All of them are still tight. None of them were glued, since glue doesn’t bond to boiled wood (I eventually tried that too). But none of them will ever pull apart:
December Loop Back Class
Just yesterday I finished teaching a wheelbarrow class with Peter Ross. One of my favorite parts of this class is the intersection between wood and fire. The tire gets heated in a wood fire before it is shrunk onto the wheel and even the staples for the staked sides can be burned into the wheelbarrow shafts for a custom fit.
The class was so much fun I’ve decided to add another class this year. It’s on a topic I’m more familiar with: Curtis Buchanan’s loop back side chair. I’ve been building this chair for over 20 years and have made hundreds of them, and have taught dozens of classes on making them. I know this chair pretty well by now, but there’s always more to learn. Which is why I’m excited to teach it again. I love honing skills that I know by heart to an even higher level and sharing that knowledge with others. That’s why I do what I do.
The class is December 2nd-7th, 2024, at my shop in Hillsborough, NC. More info on my class page.