Kale Vogt
May 13, 2024
After a two-week European excursion with my partner, I’m back here at LAP. My shoulders are loose, my mind is quiet. I know I’m privileged to have been able to take such time off work. I’m grateful to have a job that allows vacation and a boss and coworkers who understand the value of travel.
For 10 days we explored Spain. I quietly documented chairs and various pieces of furniture that caught my eye as my partner snickered. I saw themes of heavy, blocky silhouettes within the Spanish furniture I came across. The fresh perspective and organic shapes inspired me.
Luckily, I had several days to decompress post trip before work. Jet lagged, I woke at 6:30 a.m. each morning to take a long walk before the mid-day heat set in, my mind buzzing with creative and aesthetic ideas. I wanted to take full advantage of the residual energy and inspiration from my travels. All my morning daydreaming has left me feeling closer to discovering my visual voice in woodworking. I dream of evolving into a full-fledged furniture maker. Chairs, yes of course, along with chests of drawers, silly little coat racks, maybe some side tables here and there.
Months ago, before I was hired here at LAP, Chris sat me down and shared with me his dream of taking on an apprentice. It was then that he brought up the idea of the Anarchist’s Apprentice blog and asked if I’d be interested in journaling my perspective of this journey. Not knowing what could come of it, but wanting to see. His vulnerability struck me. The openness he showed in sharing his dream.
I remember saying something along the lines of, “I love dreaming big like this.”
To which Chris replied, “That’s what you have to do in this field.”
That answer has stuck with me. And since receiving a boost of creative energy from this past trip, I feel I’m doing just that. Dreaming big.
For now, I have much video editing and Wally petting to catch up on from my time off.
Christopher Schwarz,
May 14, 2024
One of the cabinetmakers who trained me in the 1990s had a philosophy about wood that makes sense on the surface but is really a path to misery.
As we were cutting up some stock for a Pembroke table on a radial arm saw, he laid it out simply and elegantly: “Every wooden fiber is precious, and you should handle the material like it’s gold. It took decades for the tree to grow, and so we owe it to the tree to use every bit of it with care.”
He was true to his word. He kept a huge pile of scraps, all organized by species. There were bits of ebony that were smaller than the tip of your pinky. Curly maple triangles as big as your hand.
Sometimes his hoarding paid off. Some of the ebony pieces ended up as square plugs in a gorgeous Greene & Greene bench he made. The curly maple became parts of the gallery in a secretary.
But mostly, the scraps were a burden.
Personally, I’ve never had space to keep much lumber or scraps. I don’t buy wood until I need it. And I don’t keep any scrap shorter than 12". Once a project is complete, I put aside pieces that could be used in the immediate future, and I cut up the rest for neighbors to use as fuel.
For me, keeping yourself warm is a valid use of this material.
What does this have to do with Kale? They just got back from two weeks on vacation, and when I returned from an errand, I noticed a bunch of chair parts stacked up on their bench. Megan told me that something was wrong with Kale’s seat.
Right before Kale left for their shift at Anthe, I asked them about the seat.
“One of the mortises is too wonky, and I don’t know what to do,” they said. “Should I just finish the chair? Or….”
Nope. Put the parts aside that can be used for other chairs. Figure out if you can cut up the seat for legs or a comb or sticks. But don’t finish the chair if it’s not going to make you happy. Life’s too short. Start a new chair.
If Chris is cleaning out the scrap bin (and it is almost always Chris who cleans out the scrap bin; I’m an inveterate wood hoarder), if it’s been there longer than a year, it’s likely to get tossed, especially if it is a secondary wood (i.e. poplar or #2 pine). Everything someone thought was worth saving (assuming it fits the size requirements below) gets a one-year probation.
We generally don’t put anything in the scrap bin that is less than 2' long or 4' wide, unless it’s something special. And we don’t save anything that doesn’t fit in the scrap bin. That is, if it’s too tall or too wide, it has to be cut down to fit. Otherwise, it creates work for someone else.
And we never put parts in the bin that are not perfect. That is, if you save a chair seat or a leg or a lid panel, for example, that you didn’t like for whatever reason, you might not remember what was wrong with it months later…and we avoid encouraging anyone to use less-than-ideal material. And yes, there have been a few times Chris threw out a piece of scrap then needed it. But that’s life as a neatnik.
My partner also snickers at my documenting while out in the world. It comes from a good place, I remind myself. I can’t help myself, even if I never do anything with them, the photos always remain in my subconscious, gradually shaping my work. Glad you got this chance for new inspiration. Thanks again for sharing your journey!
I'm gradually rehabilitating myself from both tool hoarding and scrap hoarding. For the 'furniture curious' I always recommend ATC to attempt to avoid creating another 'tool glutton'.
My journey away from scrap hoarding is going better -- I'm lucky to live near people with backyard fire pits/smokers, crafty (non woodworking) folks that can take a tiny piece of scrap and do something cool, and people that have only used 2x4s and 1x (eastern) pine and are elated to get a repurposed amazon box of hardwood to play with.
I remember watching a video years back of Chris showing off his basement shop, and him mentioning regret about buying a large pile of walnut at a good price. These 'too good to pass up' deals are the worst. You regret passing them up imagining all the things that could have been or end up having 1000+ bdft or something with no plan. I'm the 3rd or 4th owner of a pile of white ash that has been passed around my area, reduced to the low, low price of < $1/bdft.