Sometimes it starts with a sketch. Sometimes it starts with a phone call. Sometimes, it starts with a board; you aren’t sure what exactly you are going to do with it, but you know that something needs to get made out of that board, and and all will not be right in the jungle until that board becomes a piece of furniture.
Such was the case with a board I found last spring. I drove up to Smithville, Tx after answering a Craigslist ad for “EXOTIC WOOD.” I spent the afternoon talking shop with the gentleman who listed the ad, poking through his diner-turned-lumber-room, playing with his one-eyed (or was it three-legged?) dog, and chitchatting with the neighbors, most of whom seemed happy enough drinking wine in beach chairs on the sidewalk. Looking back now, the entire day seemed surreal. I’m pretty sure if I ever tried to go back, I wouldn’t be able to find it, and no one would know what I was talking about. The entire town will have vanished like The Island from “Lost.”
Anyway, I found an epic plank of teak during my search: a curl I had never seen before, and orange and green and black streaks running through the entire board. I payed the man, thanked him (I think he was sad to see it go), drove it home, and got busy staring at it for the next four months.
*** You can see more of my work, along with plenty of shop & construction pictures, on my website: www.kelloggfurniture.com Or follow me on Twitter: @HtownFurniture
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The teak plank, with a healthy coating of shellac to give it some shine.
Routing the "break" in a prototype leg.
Detail of the break before scraping the upper section and chopping the facet/shoulder.
Six months later it was finally time to start working full-time on the sideboard. I had been staring at the earlier mockup every day during that time, but I still couldn't figure what was wrong. After talking to someone with better eyes (and hair, and looks) than me, we figured out two main issues: 1)the whole piece was too big, and 2)the "break" in the legs were chunky and distracting. The hope is to show off wood, not distract from it.
The first full-size, finished mockup. At this point I have probably taken apart, adjusted, and reattached every piece three or four times. I like this basic proportions, but something still doesn't seem right.
Starting the second mockup, without the break, and a narrower stance.
The new mockup starting to come together...
Trying to figure out which boards want to be which parts. The veneer for the panels came from the original plank, the other boards were purchased later in the hope that they would compliment the panels.
Now, almost a year later, I have a plan for the piece. I have the just the right boards, and I know exactly where each pat needs to go. Words cannot describe my excitement at this moment.
Here is my high-tech mockup kit: hot-glue gun, tape measure, straight edge, pencil, single-sided corrugated cardboard, and a large stash of the cheapest lumber I can find (usually poplar or beech.) I find building a full-scale mockup to be much more informative than a scale (or full-size) drawing.
The original sketch for the sideboard. After playing around with the scale, I decided that I didn't like the large, single drawer in the middle, and that the glass door in the lower section would turn into a black, square hole on a piece this deep.
A later sketch of the sideboard. Slightly lower to the ground, with two large compartments below, instead of two small and one large. If you look closely, you can see a "break" in the legs where the lower section transitions into the upper/drawer section. This seemed like an terrific idea on paper. I had no idea what sort of dead-end rabbit hole it would eventually lead me to.
Photo-stitch of two mockups side by side. The one on the right (which was pictured earlier) is eight inches narrower than the original; the one on the left, a third mockup, is four inches narrower. It amazes me what a difference a few inches makes; I loved the smaller mockup, but it almost seemed too "cute." I had this nagging feeling that a piece like this should have a sort of, I don't know, <i>stern</i> presence. The third, medium-size mockup looked just right.
With its graceful curves, cabriole legs, and ornamental back splat, a Queen Anne side chair is a bucket list build for many woodworkers. Dan Faia had a very specific Queen…
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