furnituremaker in seattle

Do As I Say

2011-10-21T00:53:00.001-07:00

When I was very young my father often silenced my protests with a curt, “do as I say, not as I do “.

The apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree. Many times in the past 18 years when I have been giving slide shows and/or critiques at the University of Washington School of Architecture, I am asked to show the students some of my sketches. I have always replied honestly, that there really aren’t any. It isn’t a part of my process. I do not draw because wood is not flat and white like paper and furniture is not seen as a series of graphic outlines. Nor is it 5 or 6” tall like it might be in a drawing. Then why not draw full scale? That only solves the problem of scale, not feeling or weight. Then why not a full scale mock-up ? Because mockups are by definition quick cheap approximations and I can assure you that a piece made of cheap construction grade lumber is going to have nothing of the feel and power of a sensuous wood like East Indian Rosewood. Then why not just make the first trial piece out of the real wood? Then I smile and say, “ That is precisely what I do. I only do not recommend that method unless you have built many pieces and are not afraid of spoiling a very beautiful and expensive piece of wood”.

It may seem a little disingenuous, but I really do just kind of hypnotize myself into a kind of dreamy, or if you prefer, distracted, state, until I see exactly what it is I need to make. I wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to say it necessarily works. I leave that up to the viewer, (see plenty of examples on this website). But know that pretty much every piece I have ever made came about that way.

I also wouldn’t say it is always a smooth or effortless way. One particular story makes me feel a little sheepish. I was very young, early 20’s , and just a few years into my life as a furnituremaker. By a stroke of very good fortune, a wealthy art collector from Seattle, had discovered my work. This man, Mr. John Hauberg, not only was a highly respected collector, but also had the distinction of having helped found the very prestigious Pilchuck Glass School in the Pacific Northwest. When he called all those years ago to request a very special table to nestle in among some of his amazing art work, I recognized right away that this could be a huge moment for my very young, fledgling career as a furnituremaker/designer. And to be perfectly honest, the prospects were daunting.

Now, I am not normally a dawdler, but I launched into a case of full scale procrastination. Months passed and I had nothing. What was worse was that I couldn’t even summon much courage to work on the design. And then one afternoon I did a most inexplicable thing. I knew that by not responding to the challenge I was failing Mr. Hauberg and the trust he placed in me. Without thinking, I picked up the phone, and called him. Without wasting much time on pleasantries, he came right to the point. “ How is my table coming ?” And then I replied, ( I am still embarrassed 30 years later), without the SLIGHTEST idea of what I was going to do, “ I think you’ll like it. Shall I come by your office in the morning and show you?”

And then the strangest thing happened. I still remember each millisecond of what transpired next, I really do. As my right arm uncoiled and started downward to place the phone in its cradle ( I told you this was 30 years ago), the design for what came to be known as the Hauberg Wing Table flashed in its completed iteration in my mind. It would become easily the most influential piece I would ever design and build – for long periods of time 80 or 90 per cent of the commissions coming in to my studio were as a direct result of my clients seeing a photograph of the Hauberg Wing Table.

If you’ve read Malcolm Gladwell’s bestselling book, Blink, you may have a very good insight into exactly what happened that afternoon on the phone. I suspect therein lies the answer. But no matter.

I cannot even be sure to this day how I feel about the seeming effortless way in which it came about.

Proud, I suppose. Certainly happy.

Seattle/ 7.25.2010

It Ain't CSI

2011-10-21T00:34:00.001-07:00

IT Ain’t CSI, But Woodworking Has Its Moments

Sometimes, even after years of coming to an understanding with something you love, in my case, making furniture, things still happen which leave us grasping for explanations. Years ago I was asked to do ten pieces for a prestigious law firm here in Seattle that was opening a new office. The president of the firm was a very big art patron and he made it very clear that he “didn’t just want furniture, he wanted pieces of art that would make his firm AND me very proud”. There was even going to be a huge reception when they were done, because coincidentally with the large commission they were asking me to do, they were having an internationally famous Seattle artist, George Tsutakawa, do new pieces for them. This, clearly, was not a place I wanted to come up short.

The commission would consist of two conference tables, two credenzas, two coffee tables, a reception desk which I designed to look like a huge chambered nautilus, and several other smaller pieces. The entire commission was slated to be done in Imbuya, a beautiful, golden brown Brazilian wood.

Despite the complexity of some of the pieces, and the pressure of the deadline, ( the opening bash was already scheduled, and embossed invitations sent), I had a few good assistants at the time, and things were going, as they like to say in Britain, “swimmingly”. In fact we were just a few weeks from done when something seemingly inexplicable occurred. I had designed the two conference tables to have long, subtly arched edges to give it what I like to call a “boat shape”. These were going to be done with thick, heavy solid bands of Imbuya capturing a veneered center panel of bookmatched Imbuya veneer. To give the joint more strength and to help perfectly align the banding to the table top, we used biscuits inserted by a machine called a plate joiner, or popularly, a Lamello, for the original version. This is a technique that has gained enormous popularity in the last 30-40 years, as it is very fast, strong, and most of all accurate.

Well, we finished the last two pieces, the small and large conference tables, and I sent them off to my longtime trusted finisher, Chris Miller. They came back just the day before the whole commission was to be delivered, and the two table tops sat there in my studio on a pair of saw horses waiting to be attached to their bases. When I went over to give the finish a final inspection, I literally gasped in horror. All along the joints between the edge of the table tops and the banding were white, ghosted images of the little football-shaped biscuits glued in below the surface. AAAAARGH!!

I called over everyone in the studio, and one by one they confirmed it wasn’t my imagination. What had happened? There is an understanding in woodworking that one never does a final sanding or planing until at least 24 hours after something has been glued, because it takes that long for most glues to fully cure. Otherwise one runs the risk of a smoothed joint subsequently shrinking a bit and looking terrible. But we had not done the final sanding for days after assembling the tops. And it was also commonly held that the biscuits should not be placed too close to a finished surface, or the extra glue there could possibly bleed and show. But because this was such a thick table, these biscuits were at least 2 or 3 times deeper than usual. Lots of head scratching, and even a few calls to colleagues produced exactly no explanations. But those terrible little white silhouettes remained and haunted me. The worst detail was that the law office was in a skyscraper completely made of glass and the light flooding in was sure to worsen things.

Well, no matter, they were due to be delivered the next day, and I had no choice but to deliver them, pray that everyone was more interested in schmoozing and drinking the client’s wine and would not notice during the reception. Then I would have to rent the truck again, bring the two tables back to the studio, and remake both tops at considerable cost in time and money. We delivered them.

The next day, with a sense of foreboding , I put on a clean shirt and drove across Lake Washington to the toney office building. When I got there, the soiree was in full swing and no one seemed too concerned about the finish on the tables. It was evening and I felt relieved that there was no heavy sunlight to expose me as an impostor. In fact, many kind people came up and shook my hand and congratulated me. Even Mr. Tsutakawa, in a warm way that was perhaps one of the high points of my career.

I slinked out of there knowing that what lay before me was to return the next day and start the whole process of taking care of my clients and repairing damaged tables and my surely damaged reputation. Again I drove across the lake , and I noted that it was that rare day in Seattle that was busting with sunshine. It would be shining on my tables and confronting me just like the bright lights the cops shine on a suspect. When I entered the first conference room, I stopped in shock.

No telling ghosted biscuit outlines showed anywhere in the surface. I stared for several minutes, moving all around to see from all angles. I ran to the other conference room: same thing. I was euphoric. I go back and check them every now and then, and they are still very pretty. I have in the intervening twenty years or so, thought often about what could have caused the problem to occur. AND to disappear. Never have come up with an answer. And neither has anyone I have ever asked. No matter. Everyone’s happy.

Jonathan Jacob Cohen/Seattle 7.23.2010

2011-10-21T00:32:00.001-07:00

STYLE

People often ask me where does one “get a style” for one’s creative endeavors. It sometimes makes me cringe. I do not believe one “gets” a style. Not, at least, in the sense of consciously setting out to develop one. I believe we all have one in us, and the more valuable use of our energy is in just getting to work and leaving the issue of style to unlock itself. That does not mean we don’t make conscious efforts to refine it or focus it. But I do not feel as though you can put on a style much more successfully than you can fake an accent when you speak. It will always be in danger of feeling somewhat contrived .

The style of my work, if there is such a thing, is the result of more than three decades of working nearly ceaselessly , ( in the early years I often worked as many as eighty, or even on occasion, one hundred hours in a week) to solve functional and esthetic conundrums in my pieces. Spend hundreds of hours with a whole host of specialized tools in your hands, and you will see what emerges in the way of a pattern of elements in your work. It seems to me that is exactly what we mean when we use the word “style”. Learn about your tools and your materials, and I mean here not a superficial knowledge, but a real intimacy. Without any more effort, whatever it is that the tools and the materials and you come up with will very likely be something special, and…………………………………………there is your style!

Jonathan Jacob Cohen

Seattle/ 7.7.2010

first.....gulp.....blog

2011-10-19T22:55:00.000-07:00

MUSINGS OF A FURNITUREMAKER

actually it's not. my first blog, that is.
there are three ( whoa, dude, how prolific) already floating, or being, or doing the doggie paddle, or whatever it is that blogs do, already on my website. i'm going to figure out how to upload them to this blog site, but for now, if you'd like to see them, ( and i promise you they will be far more interesting than this drivel), you can see them at : jonathancohenfinefurniture.com.
actually, i'd be quite honored if you took a look and passed on your reactions, assuming , of course , that they spur you to action.
one word of warning: i have discovered that ........
1- i really am a poor typist, and so, to lessen the burden, i don't waste much time capitalizing words.
2- i am hopelessly addicted to parentheses (and the habit of sneaking in little asides).

well, then. welcome. i hope this will be the start of something .

jonathan jacob cohen/seattle 10.19.11