Similar to the BBC’s popular Strictly Come Dancing, this was a competition in which the 12 turners competed against each other at the lathe.

They were tasked with creating items such as a vase, goblet and lidded box in an incredibly short eight minutes.

At the end of the first round, the four turners with the most votes (as cast by the delegates in the audience) went through to the semi final. The four were Nick Agar, Jason Breach, Stuart King and Tracy Owen.

The final was contested between two show men of the woodturning world – Nick Agar and Stuart King. Although Nick had the X factor and was a big hit with the ladies in the audience, Stuart… with great flurries of showmanship including pompoms, balloons and a Halloween mask …ultimately secured the judges’ votes and was crowned the winner of Strictly Woodturning 2009. It was a uniquely entertaining night.

Small lathes driven by a hand held bow probably provided the earliest form of turning, particularly of small items, not just of wood but Ivory, bone, amber and precious metals. Very fine gold Celtic jewelry has been shown to have been worked on the bow lathe. Bow Lathes also figure in early engineering, especially in clock and watch making.

It is almost certain that the earliest lathes also encompassed reciprocation with the power provided either by the workman himself or with the aid of another individual. The earliest illustration of a lathe is from a well known Egyptian wall relief carved in stone in the tomb of Petosiris dated some 300 BC. As with many Middle Eastern and eastern lathes of this type it was operated at ground level, in this case by two men. Due to standard Egyptian artistic convention each element of the lathe is depicted in the most comprehendible manner for the observer. This results in a misleading depiction as it appears to show a vertical lathe when in fact what is intended is a horizontal strap lathe. One man provides the power by pulling backwards and forwards on a cord or leather strap wrapped around the work piece while the turner sits opposite with his chisel on the tool rest.

At a similar period, the Iron Age inhabitants of the Glastonbury Lake villages have been shown to be very competent woodturners. Excavations show these English West Country Celts to have produced some quite sizeable turned artifacts such as spokes and hubs for wheels. Mallets, bowls, tool handles as well as smaller items like stoppers for jars are amongst items recovered by amateur archaeologist Arthur Bullieid and Harold St George Gray over a century ago. No actual lathe evidence was discovered and so one can only make assumptions. Strap or bow lathes could have been used for the smaller artifacts but turning wheel hubs would require more power than would probably be available from a strap lathe. It is almost certain that pole lathes were used to produce the larger items.

The Romans were familiar with the wood turning lathe, they were particularly adept at making very fine lidded boxes and containers from boxwood, and there was also a demand for sophisticated furniture parts for couches and such. In Dorset they were turning Shale, a soft stone from the kimmeridge area into body adornments such as amulets.

Archaeological excavations at York uncovered over-whelming evidence that woodturning played a significant role in daily life during the Viking period of occupation. The Vikings were great artisans and natural woodworkers, and most every day domestic items were fashioned from wood. It seems everyone used wooden bowls in York; these were turned in small timber buildings behind the houses fronting the streets. Apart from complete bowls many ‘cores’, the waste centre pieces remaining after being turned on a pole lathe, were found. These cores and the discovery of part of an adjustable tool rest provided enough clues as to what the lathe looked like and how it functioned. It is interesting that even in modern time’s parallels can be found. George William Lailey in Berkshire was using a virtually identical bowl turning lathe until 1958. Even today Ion Constantin works in just the same fashion in his Romanian back yard.

The earliest illustrations of a pole lathe occur in the 13th century. A very stylized stained glass window in Chartres Cathedral clearly depicts what looks like a woman seated at the lathe complete with cord and foot treadle. A much more precise rendition is to be found in a French illuminated manuscript. Again the turner appears to be a woman and the lathe components themselves seem to be turned and decorated with bead ornament.

A German family called Mendel founded a home for aged craftsmen in 1388. In 1425 the family instigated a ‘house book’ in which a full-page portrait was incorporated of each deceased artisan including a Pole Lathe turner. The turners lathe bed of a solid ‘table top’ type made up of a single plank of wood is unusual although there was a tradition in Wales for this design last century! The artist has captured the broad chisels and skew very well but has omitted the tool rest.

The “Book of Trades” published in Nuremberg in 1568 includes a woodcut of what we might call a production tuner. His workshop faces the street and also serves as a shop front. He seems to be using mostly hook tools judging from those hung on the rack behind him and the position of the tool he is using. The range of the turner, if this pictorial view is representative is enormous. The German text says: “The turner makes little jewel boxes of Boxwood, cases, pulpits. Bedposts, hammer handles, bowling pins and mallets. He is shown making a bowling pin, also in his ‘shop’ are dishes, furniture legs, a flute and drinking flasks turned on double axis. All this illustrates the versatility and importance of the pole lathe in a thriving medieval city.

If space for a pole was limited, perhaps by a low ceiling a bow and ‘shreave’ was some times used as a substitute from the late17th cent. An archery type bow with several strings (‘Cat gut’) passing through a bobbin (the shreave) on to which the lathe line was attached. As the foot treadle was depressed the Shreave revolved, wound up the bow cord and in doing so applied enough tension to the bow to provide for the upward return of the treadle. This was a temperamental and sophisticated alternative to the spring pole with the only advantage of compactness. It had the additional disadvantage of restricting the movement of the cord to any desired area of the work. The simple pole was much more versatile.

In his book, ‘Hand or Simple Turning’ John Jacob Holtzapffel illustrates a Chinese pipe stem turner using another form of reciprocal motion. After the drive cord is wound round the driving mandrill the two ends terminate at separate foot pedals. The operator works seated and pumps the foot pedals alternatively, such a lathe is only suitable for light work. In the same book Holtzapffel describes an itinerant strap lathe turner who sets up his crude lathe wherever the job might be. If a customer needs to replace a broken furniture part for instance the turner commences by ramming two low posts into the ground at the required distance apart and to tie a horizontal tool rest to them. Round nails or spikes are driven through the posts to act as centres. A boy is engaged to pull on the ends of the coca-nut rope that is wrapped round the work in alternative directions. The turner then sits on the ground holding the turning tool in both hands and manipulates the cutting edge with his toes.

What may seem surprising to many people is the long continuous history of using reciprocating lathes; one might think that the early use of the wheel would have had a more significant impact. It is impossible to write a chronological history of the lathe expecting each new advance to supercede the last and completely replace it; life is not that simple. Jan Joris Van Der Vliet’s etching of 1635 shows a Dutch spindle turner at his Pole Lathe, a lathe identical to those used commercially in the Beech woods of England less than 50 years ago and still used by some craftsmen today. Indeed there is a renaissance; the association of Pole Lathe Turners (UK) enjoys a membership of over 350 enthusiasts.

Next >> Part 2: Continuous Rotation

The great advantage of a wheel driven lathe is that continuous and controlled rotary motion is possible. This was not an automatic benefit to every aspect of woodturning though, as is illustrated by the continuing use of the reciprocating bow, strap and pole lathes. These ancient, simple lathes could still compete and perform efficiently in certain specialist areas such as small spindle and bowl turning.

Joseph Moxon (1683) put the wheel’s advantage as:

“Besides the commanding heavy work about, the wheel rids work faster off than the pole can do; because the springing up of the pole makes an intermission in the running about of the work, but with the wheel the work runs always the same way; so that the tool never be off it, unless it be to examine the work as it is doing”.

It is a drawing by Leonardo Da Vinci C.1480 that affords us our first glimpse of what an early treadle wheel lathe looked like. The main eliminates required for self-propelled continuous rotation is clearly shown, the flywheel, crank and treadle. It was the crank in conjunction with the flywheel that provided a huge leap forward in technological advance. The crank, linked to a treadle provided constant rotation whilst the momentum of the large flywheel ensured the crank was carried over its ‘dead spot’. The drawing also shows an adjustable tailstock with a threaded cranked handle. Leonardo is often attributed to the invention of the wheel lathe but I think it is more likely he was sketching something quite well known in his time. Indeed I think it almost certain that the cranked wheel lathe was known in Roman times.

One disadvantage of Leonardo’s lathe is that it only provided direct drive, so the speed of the machine relies entirely on the speed of the turner’s foot on the treadle, but it is beautifully simple and compact with its integral wheel. The next advance was to mount the wheel independent of the headstock and linking the two via a belt or cord, this allowed the use of stepped pulleys to be used. With this arrangement a number of gear ratios were available and could be chosen simply by moving the drive belt from one stepped groove, either in the wheel, the headstock pulley or both to another.

John Jacob Holzzapffel writing in 1881 describes most beautifully the advantages of the wheel lathe as follows:

“Flywheels afford the lathe two important advantages. Their momentum, equalizes the results of the varying muscular effort expended in driving them; storing up all in excess for the work load to be overcome, and parting again with just so much, as is necessary to carry on an equal revolution under occasional increased strain, and during the recurring periods of diminished effort. Thus, permitting a maximum of power to be conveyed to the work, with a minimum of fatigue to the operator.”

The positioning of the wheel exercised the minds of many lathe users and builders over the following centuries. Joseph Moxon, in 1683 illustrates the wheel, contained in its own separate frame mounted on the floor beneath the lathe bed. In contrast Charles Plumier in 1701 depicts a French lathe with the drive wheel fixed in a frame to the wall above the lathe. The frame was raised or lowered by a wooden screw to enable adjustment to the drive belt .It is interesting to note the Plumier lathe incorporates a spring bow that could be used in conjunction with, or separately to the wheel.

Even though the foot treadle wheel lathe was a great advance, for many forms of turning it still had it’s limitations regarding the size of object to be turned. For heavy work the ‘great wheel’ was developed. These wheels were often six feet (2m) or more in diameter and were freestanding, usually being some distance from the lathe itself. The drive was a large cranked handle, sometimes one on each side. One or two men were employed in turning the ‘great wheel’ as required whilst the turner was left free to turn such items as large table legs, Lignum Vitae Wassail bowls or wheel hubs.

A Great wheel lathe was illustrated in a nice little woodcut published in the ‘Book of Trades’ published C.1568 in Germany by Jost Amman. It depicts a pewterers workshop open to the street as was often the custom in medieval times. The ‘wheel turner’ cranking the great wheel can clearly be seen as can the Pewterer forming vessels on the lathe.

Although we tend to think of early lathe turning as the production of essential domestic objects there were exceptions. The treadle wheel lathe provided some members of the aristocracy with a hobby that some found as absorbing as any modern day turner. This section of society was more consumed with ‘ornamental turning’ and vied with each other for the most lavishly equipped machines. Ornamental lathes were very special; they allowed both the cutting tool and the object to revolve independently and at the same time. There was great competition amongst royal family’s to create ever more intricate and fantastic objects from exotic materials. As early as the sixteenth century the Hapsburg emperors were keen hobby turners, in Russia Peter the Great (1672-1725) pursued it with a passion and in France Louis XVI (1774-1792) was a great exponent and patron.

The Jurra region of France has long been a centre of woodturning and they devised some very ingenious treadle wheel lathes. One example consists of an upright wooden frame housing a lightweight spoked wooden wheel of approximately three feet (1 metre) diameter above a small lathe bed. This C.19th century lathe was designed for the manufacture of small turnings in Boxwood and Ox bone. It can be seen at the Art Tournage and Culture museum near Lons Le Saunier.

Geared cogwheels are rarely found in early lathes but I have seen two exceptions, one in France, the other in Romania. Although not ‘wheel’ lathes as such, they embrace the use of metal gear wheels to enhance the continuos revolutions gained by one turn of a cranked hand opperrated handle. Both examples appear to be wheelwright’s lathes for the turning of hubs for wooden wheels and would require two people to operate them, the woodturner and the handle turner.

Previous >> Part 1: Reciprocal Motion

Next >> Part 3: Mechanical Power

It does appear that the woodturners of old were content to continue with their tried and trusty traditional methods long after other sources of power were available to many of them. There were good economical reasons for this. No advantage was to be gained by expensive investment when the simple reliable technology of the strap, bow, pole and latter wheel lathes was usually just as efficient and more reliable.

We know that water driven lathes were used in some European countries during the last two hundred years or so. Plumier, in 1701 describes a water wheel powered metal turning lathe. In Bulgaria waterpower was used for turning the large diameter tops for traditional low tables. Bowls were turned in some alpine regions using this readily available source of motive energy. In the English village of Tintern early last century chair legs were produced on lathes driven via water wheels, probably a new use for a mill that was originally built to grind corn.

In Northwest England in the early nineteenth century the ‘Bobbin Masters’ of Cumbria had installed water wheels to drive lathes in their bobbin factories. This was in response to the huge demand for wooden bobbins required by the ever-growing cotton spinning mills of Lancashire, at a time when the industrial revolution was expanding fast. By 1854 the waterwheel at Stott Park bobbin mill had been replaced with water turbines. Turbines were much more efficient; they consisted of a large shaft-mounted propeller submerged in a duct through which the water flowed. The force of the water turned the propeller and shaft and by means of gearing drove the machinery.

An Englishman, Captain Thomas Savery built the first practical steam engine in 1698. Early steam engines were huge and developed to pump water from mines and later to drive heavy engineering machinery (including metalworking lathes) to produce machine tools. By the middle of the nineteenth century steam engines were to be found driving woodworking machinery in a few factories and even in specialist woodturneries such as the Cumbrian bobbin mills.

The first internal combustion engine was built in 1860 but it was many years before it was produced in small reliable units of sufficient power suitable to run a lathe or two. By the turn of the nineteenth century these ‘oil engines’ were employed in some small factories and woodworking shops, particularly those involved in ‘production turning’. James East of Chesham, Bucks, ran a number of wooden bedded lathes from a single engine via line shafting mounted in the roof space. The line shaft was kept in continual motion. The flat belt drive to the lathe could be disengaged as desired by maneuvering the belt from a fixed pulley onto a loose pulley (‘fast and loose’) using a simple lever.

As these oil engines became more reliable and compact (and cheaper) they also became popular with ‘one man band’ woodturners with small workshops. A case in point was Charles Dean, a Holmer Green chair bodger. Charles began turning with a pole lathe in the local woodlands. In 1924 he installed an oil engine in his back garden shed to drive a lathe and in addition a bandsaw and circular saw. Mechanization was at last within reach of the village turner! In the 1920s Charles friend Harry Tilbury immigrated to Australia. A letter from Harry to Charles dated April 1923 read “Guess the old pole lathe will soon be a thing of the past, haven’t heard that you had got the engine in yet, but I suppose it is to come. Guess a fellow won’t recognize the place if he happen to get back there?” How right he was, Charles son Alan used the same lathe until his death in 1982.

Garden rakes have been manufactured at the ‘Rake Factory’ in a small Kentish village since Victorian times. Little has changed over 150 years; most of the original machinery is still there and working, connected to the original line shafting. The old steam engine is long gone; it was replaced by a large diesel engine from a scraped lorry decades ago. One of the machines it powers is an unusual ‘rounding’ lathe. It consists of a wooden headstock within which is housed a wooden pulley and bearings. The drive-chuck end of the headstock contains a square recess to receive and rotate long squared section ash stock to be converted into rake handles. While the Ash stock is slowly turning a hand held ‘Stail Engine’ or ‘Rounder’ is fed over it from the free end and slowly coaxed along the complete length. This is a very efficient method of converting long, thin section square material to round. Close by is another, slightly latter rounding lathe. With this example the squared section timber is fed in one end, passes through a set of revolving knives and emerges through the other side completely round.

For the large majority of us today all that is required to run a lathe is to push a button and the magic of electricity does the rest. My first experience of woodturning was with a ‘Black and Decca’ electric power drill and the purpose made lathe ‘attachment’, all set up on the kitchen table. Electric motors provided a compact and powerful drive force and allow modern lathes to be built as complete portable self-contained units. Reliable electric motors have been available for about a century; I rescued a C.1910 1 hp motor from an old woodware factory some years ago that was used for driving a lathe. It is still in working order and linked to a lathe of the same period.

Many production lathes, whether driven by electricity or other power source were single speed only, By the middle of the 20th century self contained lathes with integral electric motors having stepped pulleys were developed, the Myford ML8 is a good example. It was ‘portable’ lathes such as this that made woodturning more accessible to the individual and hobby turner. Stopping the lathe to change the drive belt onto another pulley can be tiresome when there is a requirement to do so regularly. In recent years there have been several advancements regarding speed changing with out the need to stop the lathe.

Some time ago Poolwood introduced the ‘Poolwood 28-40’ incorporating a variable cone belt drive operated by a handle. This allowed the operator to change the running speed without the necessity to stop the lathe, but in doing so there is a small loss of power due to the extra gearing involved. This power loss problem and complex gearing has now been eliminated by the development of direct drive through the motor itself, the speed being controlled electronically by the turn of a small knob. At the moment this technology is expensive but I think it will prove to be the way ahead. In the mean time many of us will still be switching the motor on and off to change the spindle speed via pulleys and a drive belt.

Previous >> Part 2: Continuous Rotation

Next >> Part 4: The Machine Takes Over

This was just the sort of situation where a machine solution would be welcomed by firearm manufacturers, and in 1820, an Englishman, Thomas Blanchard designed a ‘reproducing lathe’. Blanchard’s lathe was capable of making two rifle butts an hour and it was not long before he had built one capable of producing ten or twelve in an hour. He went on to devise other reproducing lathes to manufacture shoe lasts and axe handles.

There are two basic types of what Blanchard called reproducing lathes, the first type mechanically follows a template or three dimensional pattern and is generally known as a copy or copying lathe. The second type are called automatics and contain a series of profiled blades set in a revolving drum, both have their own advantages. A copy lathe is capable of producing eccentric shapes such as those that Thomas Blanchard was interested in while an automatic lathe was primarily used for turning spindle work. A well-adjusted and sharpened automatic lathe is capable of tuning very complex and highly detailed shapes extremely quickly.

William Fell of Cumbria developed lathes of both types and by 1880 was exporting them to Russia, Japan and North America. Fell lathes are still widely used today. A German firm called Kirchner from Leipzig manufactured a large variety of automatic and copy lathes. In a catalogue C.1925 these included lathes for producing Oval picture frames, wooden shoe heals, cabriol chair legs and barley sugar twists.

It is interesting to note the impact that mechanization has had on the chair making area of High Wycombe over the last seventy years. In my own village of Holmer Green, close to the town, many local men were still using pole lathes to turn chair legs well into last century. One enterprising man, Bert Saunders decided to mechanized and invested in a semi automatic lathe to increase production. This machine worked relentlessly for many decades until the 1970s.

The heart of the lathe was a large steal horizontal drum that acted as a cutter-block, rather as in a spindle moulder. A series of paired profiled cutters, called knives in the trade, were secured along its length, ‘setting up’ required great skill as did the profiling and sharpening of the cutters themselves. The drum revolved at great speed while the wood to be turned was held firm in a slowly revolving carrier. The carrier was advanced towards the cutters by way of a long lever like handle. After a few seconds the chair leg was completed, removed and another Beech blank put into the carrier and the process repeated.

These lathes were only viable for long production runs of identical objects and such a lathe would have represented a sizeable investment. Careful consideration of all the pros and cons would have been essential, and direct comparisons with pole lathe production assessed. For instance, would enough work of an identical nature be forth coming? Frequent stopping of production to change cutters for short runs is time wasting. Unlike the pole lathe turners who used comparatively cheap green wood the semiautomatic lathe required more expensive dimetioned seasoned timber from the local sawmill.

There was a time saving in as much as this timber was ready prepared and ready for use where as the chair bodgers had to convert theirs from the whole tree. Convenience was also a factor, the whole operation could be undertaken on one site, in the case of Bert Saunders this was a large ramshackle wooden workshop in the village center. I still remember the gentle hum of machinery escaping through the leaning dust encrusted weather boarded workshops. When I was very young this seemed a place of remote mystery. It was many years later, just before demolition to make way for flats that I entered into the gloomy interior to record another little bit of passing history.

Ercol is a name synonymous with Quality furniture. This High Wycombe Company was established by Lucian Ercolani in 1920. He was a great believer in mechanization and claimed to be the first of the chair masters in the town to put the flat belts that drove the machines under the floor for safety.

During the 1970s the firm installed a ‘turning line’, a complete system that is fed with squared blanks at one end and from the other a completed chair turning emerges ready for assembly. Manufactured by the German firm Hempel it was developed in collaboration with Ercol. It is a copy lathe: that is to say a template that dictates the path of the cutter determines the shape of the turning.

Starting with a pallet load of sawn squares the operator feeds a moving horizontal chain-like conveyer that takes the blanks through to the first operation. Twin saws trim each end to the required length; the blank is carried onward to be automatically located between lathe centres and set spinning. A traversing ‘stay ring’ (steady) ensures there is no ‘whip‘, this travels from right to left immediately in front of the fixed cutter who’s path is dictated by the template. Upon completion of this move the stay ring and cutter return and two other ‘chisel’ cutters move in to form a round tenon at each end (chair stretchers were being turned on my visit).

If holes are required they are bored automatically on their conveyor journey towards the sanding section. Here the turning is again centered and revolved at high speed against a series of sanding paper grades cushioned against flexible brushes comprising of a vegetable fibre. As the turned stretcher slowly exits the sanding section, still held on the conveyer it is delivered to the end of the machine for final trimming to length, and in the case of a chair leg, a slotted through tenon can also be cut at this stage. For such a machine to run economically very large runs of the same item are needed. The Ercol Hempel lathe requires a breakdown time of approximately eight hours to change from producing one design to another. When running at full capacity the Hemple is capable of turning 365 pieces per hour.

Here’s a thought, are the hand turners of history now turning in their graves?

Previous >> Part 3: Mechanical Power

‘Yon cottager, who weaves at her own door,
Pillow and bobbins all her little store;
Content though mean, and cheerful if not gay,
Shuffling her threads about the livelong day,
Just earns a scanty pittance, and at night
Lies down secure, her heart and pocket light.’

Lines written by the poet William Cowper (1733-1800) describing the plight of lace makers in his hometown of Olney, north Buckinghamshire. For the most part lacemaking was an occupation of the poor, mainly women and children, and although the financial rewards were low it often made the difference between independence or the workhouse.

‘Bobbin’ or ‘pillow’ lace was never more than a cottage industry but according to a petition of 1698 more than 10,000 people in England were employed in the trade.

The earliest records of ‘bone’ (pillow or bobbin) lace go back as far as the mid-16^th century. Charles the First is said to have used 994 yards for twelve collars and 24 pairs of cuffs, and the trimming of the king’s night-clothes required another 600 yards. There were two main areas of production in the UK: Honiton in Devon and the East midland counties of Northamptonshire, Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. By 1770 the industry went into decline and in 1880, from Olney, William Cowper wrote ‘I am an eye witness to their poverty’. Bedford lacemakers in 1768 were said to be earning between 8d-10d (31/2p – 5p) a day. After a brief revival in the early 19^th century, machine-made lace put to rest for ever the romantic image of the lacemaker sat at her sun soaked, rose covered cottage door with just the jingle of her bobbins for company.

‘Bone’, ‘bobbin’ and ‘pillow’ lace are all descriptions of the same thing, lace produced with the use of many threaded bobbins on a pillow which is supported either on the makers lap or upon a special stand called a ‘horse’. Most lace designs required the use of dozens of bobbins at any one time, all suspended by their threads and woven in and out as the pattern dictated. This need for bobbins will have kept many specialist bobbin turners busy through nearly 5 centuries. The term ‘bone’ lace derives from the fact that many of the early (and some later) bobbins were turned from bone, often Ox or Mutton. In Twelfth Night, Shakespeare wrote of ‘the free maids that weave their thread with bones’. In the mid 18^th century one could buy a dozen for a penny; in the 19^th century bobbins made of wood were about half the cost of bone.

It was the bone bobbins that often carried inscriptions, usually delineated by the use of small dots drilled and Coloured. Inscriptions were various, many relating to historic or local events such as a public hanging; ‘JOSEPH CASTLE HUNG 1860’. The friends of Castle’s wife held a party outside Bedford gaol on the night of his hanging and gave all the guests who attended an inscribed bobbin as a momento! Other inscriptions relate to religion, anniversaries and love, the latter probably being the most prolific; ‘KISS ME QUICK AND DON’T LOOK SHY’ ‘I AM YOUR LOVER MY DARLING’ ‘ I LOVE YOU MY BLUEBELL’ and ‘YOUR HEART OF OAK FOR EVER’. Bobbins with special inscriptions could be ordered at many shops while others were sold door to door by hawkers or were to be found at fairs and markets.

Charles Freeman, in his book Pillow Lace in the East Midlands states:

‘the production of bobbins formed a trade in its own right. Richard Kent, a ‘bobbin maker’ was buried at Olney in 1728. Joseph Haskins is described as a ‘bead and bobbin maker’ in 1830. Samuel Wright of Cranfield was a bobbin turner, pillow and lace horse maker, and lace bobbins were turned on a water driven lathe at Stoke Mills, Sharnbrook. Percy Keech, a Stevington carpenter, turned wooden bobbins (mainly Plum) on a 4 foot lathe’.

There does not appear to have been a ‘bobbin turners lathe’ as such but rather each turner used what was suitable and available to himself. On close examination of many bobbins it is evident that a great number were turned using some form of bow lathe. The evidence for this being small ‘centre’ indents remaining at each end where the wood (or bone) pivoted between the lathe Poppets (stocks). I have in my collection four large ‘Gimp’ or ‘Yak’ bobbins also said to be turned on a reciprocating lathe, but in this case produced with a pole lathe by a Chair Bodger from the Buckinghamshire village of Beacons Bottom. On other bobbins there is only one pivot point indicating that these were probably turned using a lathe with continuous rotation such as a treadle wheel lathe.

Apart from bone and the rare use of metal, wood was the most commonly used material. Timbers used tend to reflect those species indigenous to the areas of manufacture; it is unusual to find the use of exotic woods although these are extremely popular with contemporary lacemakers. Fruit woods, especially plum and cherry are common; Yew tree, beech, Box, Sycamore, Walnut, Ash, Birch, Spindle and Dogwood are among other hardwoods used.

Although the financial rewards were probably minimal I think many of the old bobbin makers must have enjoyed their work. One has only to admire the variety, inventiveness and imagination that went into these miniature works of art to appreciate that they were not only tools of a trade but designed to give both tactile and visual pleasure. Apart from ‘Honiton’ bobbins and some of the ‘Bucks Thumpers’ most were drilled at the base to enable glass beads and other ornaments to be attached by wire. These are known as ‘Spangles’ and provide additional weight to keep the thread in tension.

Some wooden bobbins were decorated with pewter inlays, often referred to as ‘Butterflies’. Pewter was also incorporated as captive rings and at other times inlaid dots and referred to as ‘Bedfordshire Leopards’. Some of the most attractive bobbins to my mind are those made from two contrasting woods, either joined length ways with contrasting wooden rivets or with a round mortise and tenon. The ‘Cow-in-calf ‘is normally of two differing timbers, these consist of a hollowed body in which a miniature bobbin is secreted and secured with a push-fit top or base. Aqua fortis (nitric acid) produced a mottled effect when dabbed on the surface of wood by staining the area a dark brown.

Perhaps the most intriguing of all bobbins are the varieties with apertures, within which are contained visible miniature bobbins, Wooden balls and beads etc. These are known affectionately as ‘Mother and Babe, Church Window or Bird-cage’. A few years ago I produced my own version of a ‘Mother and Babe’, it consisted of a glass tube with Boxwood top and base with a miniature bobbin (the babe) free to visibly slide up and down the main body.

Photos and illustrations of bobbins

For more photos and illustrations of bobbins and lace-making please visit the Lace bobbins gallery on this website.

A traditional Chiltern Hills way of life ceased when Sam Rockall died aged 84 in 1962. The local newspapers announced: Samuel Rockall, the last of the Bodgers is dead.

Sam learnt the trade from his uncle, another Samuel; he was born in 1823 and clearly remembered the day he was considered a man by passing a test, to carry a sack of corn. This was how a child of the time was considered fit for adult labour. Sam used to recall his uncle’s stories about his father and life in the woods and on the Heath, thus providing a continuity of family tradition and oral history way back in to the 18th cent. Uncle Sam Rockall died in 1913 but not before imparting his skills and a strong sense of tradition on to young Sam.

In the early years of the 20th cent there were about 30 chair Bodgers scattered within the vicinity of Sam’s home busily feeding the veracious appetite of the High Wycombe furniture trade. Although there was great camaraderie and kinship amongst this close community never the less a professional eye was kept upon what each other was doing. Who was supplying whom and at what price? His account book for 1908 shows he was receiving 19 shillings (95p) for a gross of plain legs including stretchers. With three stretchers to a set of four legs this amounted to 242 turnings in total.

There was also endless discussion regarding the quality of timber from ‘this woodland or that,’ the state of the chair trade, the latest factory fire in town, or, just as important, the garden. Growing fruit and vegetables was taken seriously. Sam was no exception; he loved his garden and was very proud of his fruit preserves that would last his family throughout the long winters. Garden produce and money earned by the lady members of Chiltern households through lace making and straw -plait work made a significant contribution to the family budget. A bit of gleaning in the harvest fields and some poaching of the landowner’s game all made a useful contribution.

For the men it was the shave horse, side axe and pole lathe that earned the bread and so it was with Sam until the out break of WW1 when he was called up and private Rockall became company cook to the Machine Gun Corps. His recipe book still survives with hints on how to make a stockpot, bread and butter pudding and batches of 120 scones. After the war Sam returned to his beloved cottage on the Heath to live and resume his calling of working with wood, converting some of the very trees he played amongst as a child into chair legs.

At some time shortly after the war Sam decided to relinquish the pole lathe and change over to wheel power in the form of a treadle wheel lathe, something he was to continue with for the rest of his life. The workshop was conveniently by the side of his cottage with plenty of room for his lathe and equipment. Behind the lathe hung several dozen ‘patterns’, There was one for each style and size of leg, stretcher and spindle he ever turned. These patterns were in fact wooden tool rests containing marks and knotches relating to the required decoration of each turning style.

Being a perfectionist and one who preferred to turn by the bright light of the oil lamp rather than candlelight as preferred by some of his contemporaries during dark winter nights, he had this observation:

“Chair legs turned by candlelight should only be seen by moonlight”, or as they say in Bucks when referring to a full moon, under the village lantern.

Sam Rockall was far more enterprising than most in his profession, he developed a wide range of skills including Chair making, I’m not aware of another bodger who could also make the finished article. He never made chairs on a large scale but in 1924 his accounts include the following.

2 doz. small chairs complete & 3/10d per chair

6 arm chairs complete & 6/9d per chair

H.J.Massingham, a prolific writer on country matters refers to an armchair made for him by Sam Rockall in ‘Chiltern Country’ published 1940. The two men became firm friends and Massingham wrote quite lyrically about Sam;

“He can hardly be called the Sylvan deity of his Heath and woods, and yet he is a microcosm of nature, the genius of his place”.

“Things made for mans daily use by the practice of inherited craftsmanship are inevitable and yet incidentally beautiful. Beauty is the by-product, and in the same way the poetry and romance of Samuel Rockall are the by-product of his trade, his happy bird-like spirit and his life long devotion to his craft, his family, his countryside and his independence”.

He was not a man to do nothing; I can’t imagine him having spare time. If chair work was slack he would be mending coppice styles for farmers, sweeping chimneys or sharpening tools. In 1945 Sam was still finding plenty to do. Apart from woodturning his account book informs us he was doing some repair work for a local landowner including repairing a music stand, chest of draws, fitting new castors on a set of easy chairs, grinding a pair of grape scissors and putting a new handle in a garden hoe.

For chair bodgers there was also good business to be had selling firewood, much of it being the waste product from the business. For lighting fires one could buy bags of shavings from the shave horse, these could be followed by ‘chips’, the chunky wedges resulting from felling trees with an axe. Sam sold a sack of each for sixpence (2 1/2p). It appears Mr, Rockall also supplied bodging tools for in 1946 his book tells us:

Finding wood (Crab apple) and making beadle (beetle) 8 shillings.
1 pair of Beadle rings 6 shillings.
Two new wedges 6 shillings and sixpence.
Repairing hatchet 2 shillings.

Summer Heath is still a quiet place where today it’s peace is more likely to be invaded by recreational horse ridding and airplanes rather than the sounds of mans labour with saw, axe and lathe.

I will leave the last words to Samuel Rockhall’s Friend H. J. Massingham:

“When I left this time, he pressed on to me a sack of kindlings, a bag of nuts and a pot of his blackberry jam. One had to take them. Was he not a rich man? He is the wood-master. He has wood to burn, wood to carve and to turn, wood for furniture, what more could Sylvanus Rockall want? Surely he will climb to heaven up the tree of life.

Samuel Rockall’s bodging tradition was captured on film shortly after he died in 1962. His two sons helped in the reconstruction of his working life in the woods and his workshop. The colour film was produced by the furniture manufacturer Parker Knoll and follows the complete process using Sam’s own tools and equipment. A copy can be viewed by appointment at the High Wycombe Chair museum telephone: 01494 421 895.

There is nothing parochial about the International Turning Exchange (ITE); this is born out by the number of residents who have participated from many parts of the globe over the last ten years. For me an indicator of the programme’s great success was the number of past residents who chose to return to Philadelphia to repeat the experience. I see the ITE as a ‘melting pot of artistic creation’; dare I say, as unique for its time as was the 19th century English arts and crafts movement or the French impressionists! A prime mover in the world of wood-art.

This is some melting pot! I see the essential ingredients as; a group of artisans from a variety of cultures sharing a love of their material, which for the most part is wood. Collaboration, a sharing of individual knowledge, pushing artistic boundaries, listening to other points of view, or not, sometimes having to compromise, these are all features of the ITE programme. It has been a fantastic recipe for learning from ones peers. For me, experimentation is the key component. Experimentation with form, function, texture, colour, narrative and ’awareness of spatial dimension’ (yes, I just mean size) all play their part. The pieces’ emanating from the ITE decade, and their creators, is now celebrated in the sumptuously illustrated book entitled, ’Connections’. ‘Connections’ confirms the raison detre of the ITE.

Rather than the annual two month period, this special ITE reunion was for an intensive five days. The well equipped workshop of local furniture maker Jack Larimore was generously made available,

The wood pile was the main source of raw material for the ITE residents. This wood was supplied by a nice man called Gus. Gus works for the city council removing unwanted trees from the street environment, and being a hobby woodturner has a good understanding of our requirements. He also took great interest in what we, a rag-tag looking group of world wide ‘woodies’ were creating from it.

Fellow Frenchmen Alain Mailland and Christophe Nancey were amongst the first to pick over some choice logs, they were each to produce very differing pieces. Alain mounted a large log of, I think Cherry, on the lathe. Most people would have found it almost imposable to imagine the wonderfully delicate, organic work that slowly emerged, after much turning, carving and steam bending, from that freshly felled log.

I think one of the things that attract visitors to woodturning shows and seminars is the expectation of seeing a diverse display of work, both to admire and for inspiration. There will be the studied work of those who commit every aspect of their design to paper before picking up a tool. Then there will pieces created by the free-spirits whose work will evolve almost as if they were created by Mother Nature herself. Alain Mailland and Christophe Nancey are definitely in the free-spirit brigade.

The ‘hollow sphere’ form is at the centre of much of Christophe Nancey’s recent work. Watching a lathe artist working, especially one who never repeats their pieces, often begs the question; do they know from the outset what the completed item will be, or is a truly organic process that slowly evolves? Certainly, we all kept a watching brief on Christophe’s sphere. Turning the hollow sphere was only the beginning, a blow-torch was used to dry the wet wood from the inside, it was then textured, painted, and adorned with small rose-tinted cut glass fragments and mounted on a tapered turned spike.

The French were by far the largest group of participants from overseas. They have a very strong woodturning tradition, in recent years this has provided the world of woodturning with some exceptionally creative craftsmen. Jean-Francois Escoulen epitomises this phenomena. Pre ITE he worked quietly in his workshop as a production turner, now he is king of the off-centre turners and travels the world entertaining lesser mortals with his magic. Jean Francoise (pic below) created a wonderful ‘sunflower’ ladle in Black Walnut whilst enjoying the friendly banter that is part of the ITE experience.

Marc Ricourt and I were both members of the 2001 residency. In common with American turner Mark Gardner of the same year, Marc draws much of his influences from the native artefacts of the Pacific Rim. Marc was quick to turn an interesting form out of some unidentified log from the pile, and after what Marc does to the timber I think the identity of the species is irrelevant! Off the lathe Marc is a gentleman, but turning can bring out his brutal side, how many turners do you know who attack their material with a chainsaw, and create a master-piece?

Israeli lathe artist Eli Avisara collaborated with Mark Gardner to fashion some textured and coloured end grain roundels. These roundels were incorporated as applied decoration to Mark’s antique inspired boxes. Eli would be the first to admit the roundel idea was inspired by the spinning tops of Bonnie Cline, but a little lateral thinking resulted in a new application for end grain ‘chatter’ work. Collaboration between artists/craftsmen often yields innovative work. This was an interesting piece, and like many others, would not have been created without the coming together of diametrically opposed creative minds.

New Zealander Graham Priddle produced a goblet, and then enlisted the collaboration of Australian Terry Martin. Terry took a head-only digital picture of all who were working in Jack Larimore’s workshop. He then printed the results and attached the heads to ‘bodies’ culled from a variety of glossy magazines and pasted them on to the vessel to produce a collarge, this was a great fun piece and much liked by the other artists. The work was duly signed by all the participants and sold well at the auction.

Normandy artist Laurent Guillot supplied each of the ITE participants with one of his specialities, a turned lace wood ‘Tube’. We were all invited to create something interesting from these. No one can pretend that this was great art, but great fun yes, it is interesting how each lathe artist approached decorating Laurent’s tubes in his/her own way.

Betty Scarpino worked tirelessly on a gilded ‘crescent’ piece. Betty is living proof that what may be perceived by some as a ‘mans’ world, is in fact all encompassing. Betty, along with a number of prominent women woodturners is an inspiration to the ‘fairer sex’.

Nothing lasts for ever and before long the ITers once more departed Philadelphia, many to cross the oceans that separate us. But! They’re ready I’m sure, that if the call comes once more, they will be back together with newer recruits, to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of the International Turning Exchange.

Visit the International Turning Exchange website.

How long has man been turning wood? Almost certainly longer than we have evidence for! What did the first lathe look like? We are not sure, but we can come to a reasonable conclusion bearing in mind the materials and technology available. There are just a few early illustrations that give us some insight plus the continuing use of simple technology in parts of the under-developed world.

One thing is certain, all early lathes would have been of the reciprocal variety, that is to say, the material to be turned would have been supported between two centres and spun backwards and forwards in some way. Many people will be familiar with this concept via the ‘pole lathe’ as it is still used today by certain traditional chair makers, both amateur and professional, and can often be seen demonstrated at various craft events.

The earliest illustration of a lathe is from a well known Egyptian wall relief carved in stone in the tomb of Petosiris dated some 300 BC. As with many Middle Eastern and eastern lathes of this type it was operated at ground level, in this case by two men. One man provides the power by pulling backwards and forwards on a cord or leather strap wrapped around the work piece while the turner sits opposite with his chisel on the tool rest. Due to standard Egyptian artistic convention each element of the lathe is depicted in the most comprehensible manner for the observer. This results in a misleading depiction as it appears to show a vertical lathe when in fact what is intended is a horizontal strap lathe.

Of a similar period, the Iron Age inhabitants of the Glastonbury Lake villages have been shown to be very competent woodturners. Excavations show these English West Country Celts to have produced some quite sizeable turned artefacts such as spokes and hubs for wheels. Mallets, bowls, tool handles as well as smaller items like stoppers for jars. These are all items recovered by amateur archaeologist Arthur Bullieid and Harold St George Gray over a century ago. No actual lathe evidence was discovered and so one can only make assumptions. Bow lathes could have been used for the smaller artefacts but turning wheel hubs would require more power than would probably be available from a bow lathe. It is almost certain that either pole or strap lathes were used to produce the larger items.

It is a drawing, or rather a simple sketch (see the drawing to the right) by the Italian genius Leonardo Da Vinci C.1480 that affords us our first glimpse of what an early treadle wheel lathe looked like. The main elements required for foot propelled continuous rotation is clearly shown for the first time; the flywheel, crank and treadle. It was the crank, in conjunction with the flywheel that provided a huge technological advance (the principal is still used in our modern internal combustion engines). The crank, linked to a treadle provided constant rotation whilst the momentum of the large flywheel ensured the crank was carried over it’s ‘dead spot’. The sketch also shows an adjustable tailstock with a threaded cranked handle.

Many of Leonardo’s inventions have been put to the test in recent times, indeed a number of them, such as his hang glider have been the subject of absorbing television documentaries. Because it appeared that no one had previously attempted to recreate the great mans lathe, to see if it was a viable and practical machine, the Worshipful company of Turners decided that such a project would be a fitting part of their quarto-centenary celebrations.

I was commissioned to recreate the lathe in time for the June exhibition, ‘Wizardry in Wood’, held at the Pewterers Hall, London. Although the concept is very simple, with the original being a collaboration between turner and blacksmith, the end result is a surprisingly powerful machine. The kinetic energy produced via foot treadle and flywheel is amazing. This is only one small step in historical science but we have proved that yet again Leonardo got there first, and yes it does work!

Whether Leonardo actually designed this treadle lathe or whether he just sketched what was already in existence will always be a matter of debate, but one thing is for certain, without it there would not have been, could not have been an industrial revolution! This lathe is the first machine tool, the father of all others that went on to produce ever increasingly complex machines leading to the industrial age we live in today!

Photos of Leonardo Da Vinci’s lathe, as reconstructed by Stuart King

Reconstruction starts using traditional tools >>

Boring a hole with an auger to take the crankshaft >>

Detail of the crankshaft >>

Sixty revolutions per minute >>

A small bowl turned with a hook tool >>

Tuition at the Wizardry in Wood exhibition 2004 © Worshipful Company of Turners >>

Stuart King proves that Leonardo got it right © Worshipful Company of Turners >>

A tribute to Leonardo Da Vinci by stuart King, a plaque turned from oak and lime and pyrographed >>

Some of the earliest evidence of turned work in English chairs date from the twelfth Century where a chair of state is depicted in an illuminated manuscript written by Eadwine, a monk from Canterbury.

Every turned component is covered by a mass of ‘bobbin and bead’ decoration. Bobbin ornament was very popular with early turners as it was easy to achieve and did not demand sophisticated tools. By the sixteenth century chairs became more numerous, particularly a triangular seated variety referred to as a ‘thrown’ chair. This was every inch a ‘turners‘ chair with virtually every component turned and ornamented on the lathe. The paintings of Pieter Bruegel show that these chairs were quite common in Dutch cottages and Inns of the mid-1500s. The term ‘thrown’ is descriptive of the wood being ‘spun’ in the lathe, pots are still ‘thrown’ on a potters wheel today.

The components of these early chairs were pole lathe turned and were the equivalent of the massed produced Windsor chairs of the 18th and 19th century’s in England. Although animal glue, sometimes combined with wedges were used in Windsor chair construction to keep the whole thing together turned chair parts of earlier century’s were normally just pegged.

By the 17th century well-proportioned baluster turned legs with elegant beads, coves and swells were being incorporated into the oak furniture of the time. Well before the century had ended the turner was playing a significant role producing high quality work, often in the newly fashionable Walnut. Legs and chair backs with barley-sugar twists are an example of this. Twists themselves were not turned but carved and rasped from a turned cylinder that had previously been carefully measured and marked. This was a time consuming practice and required great skill, especially when we consider that these 17th century twists were made in mirror image sets for esthetic balance.

Towards the end of the Victorian era a Semi automatic lathe was invented to produce twists and by the 1920s the demand for reproduction Oak furniture was high. Sir Lawrence Weaver observed in 1929’ when writing about the High Wycombe furniture trade that:

“There are other odd little corners of work where the hand still prevails. Because the Jacobean cult is still so much loved, Ingenious lathes work the twisted baluster that gives the ‘Tudobethan’ flavour. But the lathe has not learned to do the job quite cleanly. So there is a pleasant profession amongst women in High Wycombe, the profession of twist cleaning-so prosperous that a few weeks ago enquirey at the Labour Exchange revealed only one twist cleaner not cleaning twists”.

This cleaning work entailed rounding off the flat facets left by the lathe cutter attachment using rasps, scrapers and sandpaper.

Off-centre turning was employed in a variety of ways, one was to create a form of Cabriole leg for instance. True Cabriole legs are mostly the result of sawing on two faces and shaping with drawknife and spokeshave with may-be a ‘ball and claw ‘feature carved at the foot. The ‘pad foot’ variety is the only version to incorporate any turning at all, in this case the foot is turned off Centre before the leg is sawn to shape. The turned foot is then gracefully incorporated into the rest of the leg using hand tools. Today, many simple cabriole legs found on cheaper furniture are the result of being produced on automatic copy lathes.

There is a form of cabriole leg that is wholly lathe turned using off Centre techniques. These have often been derided by connoisseurs in the past as being a poor substitute for the real thing, but they do have their place in furniture history.

‘Best forefeet’ is not a term that occurs in general conversation much these days but from the mid Victorian period they were much desired as a refined feature on bedroom and parlor chairs.

The foot of this style of chair leg curves outwards in a long tapering elegant sweep and gives the appearance of being cleverly turned on the lathe. At first glance these ‘best forefeet’ appear to be the result of some clever off-Centre turning. The actual method employed was simple; enough extra wood was left where the toe would be for it to be shaped by hand after the remaining leg had been turned. The turned leg would be held in a vice and carefully shaped using spokeshaves and stock scrapers until the curved toe was blended into the turned portion.

Producing best forefeet was also part of the chair Bodgers repertoire. In the Sam Rockall collection there are two pairs showing quite clearly the two main stages of shaping. It is quite likely that most of these legs were delivered to the factorys where ‘Bench men’ shaped the ‘toe’ once the legs had seasoned.

The term ‘Backfoot’ is misleading as it refers to the back leg of a chair that continues in a curve to also form the chair back. The actual leg portion is usually left square but the section above the seat that forms the back is often turned. To turn the straight section of a curved component quickly and repetitively requires a simple solution. The answer was the ‘Turners Buckle’, a quick release devise, as simple in it’s conception as it was in operation. The main component was a profiled block of wood that operated as an extension to bring the turned portion back in line with the lathe centers. This was held in place with a hand forged rectangular steel link and wooden wedge. The ‘Turners Buckle‘ was used on both pole and power lathes.

Many years ago I attended a lecture on antique furniture and when a picture of a certain Windsor chair appeared on the screen, the lecturer said that maybe in the future the tool that produced this circular moulding would come to light. The decoration he was talking about is known as a ‘Bulls eye’ and is a solid device sometimes used instead of the more common pierced wheel as found on many wheelback Windsor chairs. The answer to the lecturer’s conundrum was that there never was a ‘special tool’ but that these ‘Bulls eyes’ were turned on the lathe.

A long winding country road slowly dissolves uphill into the main street of Sieffen where private homes and small shops share the roadside. Everywhere are large carved, turned and painted wooden signs, many of them animated, pronouncing proudly the local toy making tradition. At the village centre is the church, which itself features in some of the toys. All around are small factories and workshops, some built in the Alpine style of the region.

One has to ask the inevitable question, how did this toy making tradition start? To find the answer we have to travel back to the 14th century with the discovery of metal ores, especially silver and tin. The rich mountain towns such as Annaberg and Marienberg were founded upon the riches extracted from the Erzgebirge mines. By the middle of the 17th century mining was in decline although the last mine to close in Sieffen was in 1849.

Miners were familiar with wood, it grew all around them, it was used in the mineshafts, to build mining machinery and for their wooden houses. As a pass-time, they carved wood through the long winter nights into figures depicting their own mining community and those around them. Figures in traditional costume holding and working with the tools of their trade were very popular.

Coinciding with the major decline in mining was the introduction of pillow lace making. In 1571 one Barbara Uthmann was employing over 900 women making lace, there were approximately 10,000 by the end of the 16th century and by 1845 the figure peeked at 40,000. Pillow lace requires up to 100 wooden bobbins per worker, that’s a lot of bobbins and a lot of work for the lathe. The first documented woodturner in Seiffen was described as a maker of plates and spindles (bobbins?). A turner from Seiffen is known to have travelled to Leipzig fair as early as 1690 and from the mid 18th century ‘goods from Sieffen were well known on the European market.

By this time figures and toys comprising of a number of turned elements rather than purely carved items were well established and from 1810 the ‘discovery’ of ‘hoop’ (ring) turning enabled the toy makers to extend their range considerably. Turning profiled rings that could be sliced into many single animal shapes to produce farm yard and Noah’s Ark toys efficiently added greatly to the toy maker’s repertoire.

It is perhaps the ‘smoking man’, or ‘manikin’, that really brings out the essence of the characters of the area. These small figures represent the traditional occupations of the region over the last few hundreds of years, miners of course, but also peasants’, itinerant salesmen, village sweep and postman. The one thing all these manikins have in common is that they smoke a pipe. A traditional German carol starts with; a man with nothing in his mouth is a poor type. And never will a man among us be seen without a pipe… This is a reference to the ubiquitous habit of smoking among men at the time. These smoking men are made in two sections and when the top half is lifted, usually at the waist, a metal cup is revealed. A fragrant ‘candle’ is placed on the cup and lit. The two halves are reunited and soon perfumed smoke emanates from the figure’s mouth, there is no flame, the ‘candle’ just smoulders slowly.

Much of the Seiffen toy makers’ production is concentrated on the Christmas market. Indeed, the Village itself is one large festival during the three weeks leading up to Christmas. With new fallen snow reflecting the lanterns and candles of the evening processions to the church from where traditional music is played and carols are sung, the place is thronging with visitors who want to celebrate the festive season in a truly wonderland setting.

Many of you will be familiar with the so-called ‘Christmas Pyramids’ incorporating piers of seasonal figures such as angels, the nativity, and musicians, all set in motion by the rising warm air from decorative candles turning the horizontal fan at the top. These were made from the early 1800s to decorate the local’s own houses, not till 1902 were they first produced commercially. Over the years they have become more elaborate, made possible due to the many lathe turned components. Since the 1930s some communities have built giant versions several metres high in the town squares as part of their seasonal celebrations.

To ensure all this is secured for the future Sieffen hosts a school of toy making. It is furnished with first class machinery; a whole shop is devoted to woodturning and boasts a long bank of lathes that would be the envy of most in the teaching profession. The second shop comprises of every machine required in the manufacture of toys. The students normally attend for three years after which they are fully grounded in the trade and are eagerly sought after by the local manufacturers. The school, which on my visit appeared to have an equal number of boys and girls, is sponsored by the local Toy Makers Guild.

Sieffen boasts a wonderful museum covering the whole history of the region. The collection is displayed on two floors and is a must for anyone interested in the history of woodturning and toy making. There are reconstructed rooms representing a toy maker’s living quarters and a ‘hoop turners’ workshop plus a collection of antique lathes.

Never have I been in a town or village where it appears the whole community is involved in the production of so many diverse objects made of so many components, but with a common theme, and all based upon a long tradition. What impressed me is the attention to design and standard of finish of everything these craftspeople produce, be it a small tree decoration or the most expensive ‘Pyramid’. What is more, the people in the Erzgebirge Mountains are proud of their history and do all they can to promote and protect it. Long may they do so.

There are innumerable-wassailing traditions. Many of them are centered around Christmas time and New Year. It was the aristocracy and landed gentry along with institutions like the guilds that would have possessed the grand vessels, often embellished with fine engine turned decoration. Somerset fruit growers used to serenade their trees with wassail at the end of harvest time.

Choosing the wood

All the lignum Vitea bowls were turned end grain from a round log, Lignum is a hard, dense oily wood (it will sink in water), ideal for the retention of hot liquid. Due to the exorbitant cost of Lignum Vitea I chose to turn my Wassail bowl from a log of green Sycamore. This had lain under wet sacks beneath the shade of a large cherry tree to encourage spalting to occur. After giving careful consideration to where in the log the bowl should be cut, I duly scratch-marked the bark to give me a bowl blank plus another to provide a traditional cover (Lid) with an Acorn finial.

It was my wish to turn the bowl from the ‘round’ as in the originals but there are potential problems in turning something of this size from moisture sodden timber and so the risk of a disappointment need to be weighted. If all goes according to ones wishes the end result should be an attractively proud vessel with a practical application form a material that has cost virtually nothing. However, If ‘dame fortune’ turns her head the vessel could split and distort as it dries. The lid could twist forever preventing an agreeable union with it’s other half, leaving the turner with an ‘interesting’ piece that philosophically can only be put, ‘down to experience’! For the best result the wood needs to be free of knots and other distortions and ideally to have the heart line (pith) as central as possible.

Making the Wassail bowl

After sawing from the log the bowl blank was debarked with a drawknife before mounting on the lathe. This was a precaution against large flaps of loose bark flying off, after ‘maturing in a damp environment for five months decay will have inevitably taken it’s toll. With the lathe on low revolutions a 1 inch roughing gouge was employed to carefully reduce the elliptical log to a cylinder. A spigot was cut at the tailstock end of the blank using a 5/8th beading tool after which the sycamore was removed from the lathe, turned round and mounted in the large ‘gripper jaws’ of an Axminster four jaw chuck.

Once the outer edge (the rim of the bowl) was squared the hollowing was begun. This can be achieved using a number of tools; various profiles of bowl gouges would do the task adequately. After some initial excavation with a 5/8th-bowl gouge I attacked the remaining interior with the large ‘Hamlet’ shaft and ‘fenced’ ring tool. This removed the wet waste quickly and smoothly but, as is almost inevitable with wet wood, left some ridged spiral groves, particularly in the end grain. At this point a heavy bowl scraper was put to work to do some gentle ‘shear’ scraping prior to sanding.

A foam backed sanding disk mounted in a power drill was applied first whilst the bowl was still mounted and revolving in the lathe. This was followed by hand held abrasive supported against a piece of dense foam rubber. Sanding wet wood usually requires the use of fairly course sandpaper to start with, and this will need to be un-clogged or replaced frequently. It may not be possible to go beyond 400 grit due to clogging so you may have to resort to some hand finishing with fine abrasive once the item is dry.

Detail of a wassail bowl turned by Jeremy Soulsby

With the interior completed a groove was cut into the outer body about ½ inch (12mm) below the depth of the interior, this provided me with a safe datum as I proceeded to shape the exterior. Some bulk waste beneath the interior was removed using a deep fingernail profile gouge before changing to a 5/8th inch continental style spindle gouge for the final shaping. It can be useful to shine a lamp into the bowl interior to gauge the wall thickness, I chose to rely on the tactile response of my fingers on this occasion. A wassail bowl is in essentially just a large goblet and so the basic procedures are similar. For instance, profiling must begin from the extremity, completing a section at a time before proceeding ever closer to the chuck.

As the turning of each section is completed so it must be sanded.

There may be no going back should even minor distortion through drying take place before the piece is completed. Keeping the wood wet by spraying it with water is advocated by some and may be beneficial but I have never found the need. Distortion will only occur (it is not inevitable) where considerable wood removal has taken place to leave, in this case a thin walled bowl. No movement of the solid unturned remaining portion will happen, hence the need to work from the tailstock end, finish a section and move along towards the headstock.

Although I gave a great deal of thought to the form of my wassail bowl there was no drawing, most of my turning is done ‘by eye’.

I envisaged a simple flowing profile of uninterrupted continuous curves whilst retaining the essence of the 17th century tradition. One of the most enjoyable aspects of this project was the turning of the concave foot and stem and melting it into the already completed bowl section using spindle gauge and round skew. This is the defining step and judgement can now be made as to whether ones eye had dominated the tools to produce a pleasing profile.

One of the ‘secrets’ of turning such a vessel from wet wood is to turn it as thin as is practicable so that in the inevitable drying process takes place uniformly.

If there is any bulk, say in a thick stem or foot, this will result in an uneven drying sequence resulting in the wood becoming stressed and the likelihood of a split occurring. With this in mind I parted the bowl from the spigot leaving a conical concave section beneath the foot, there-by leaving it quite light in section.

The cover blank was next mounted between centers, roughed down to the required diameter and a spigot turned for mounting in the gripper jaws. At this point the basic shape was determined and the top portion of the cover finished including the platform to take the separate acorn finial. Once more the cover was mounted between centers to allow the inside of the cover to be completed with a 5/8th inch fingernail bowl gouge. There was just a small spigot remaining; this was carefully removed after dismounting and finish to blend in. A considerable allowance needs to be made when creating the recess to fit inside the bowl, the diameter of which will reduce in drying more than that of the more solid cover. It is possible for a cover that was a loose fit at the turning stage to become too large when completely dried.

Finials in the shape of miniature cups and covers or acorns often adorn the top of Wassail bowls.

I decided to turn a two part, acorn with a removable top half, in other words a lidded box. Traditionally these were used to contain valuable spices for the flavoring of the hot wassail. The finial was also turned from spalted sycamore but from an unrelated tree, the blank being held in the gripper jaws from start to finish. Compared with the rest of the wassail bowl and cover the acorn was quite straightforward to turn. A small peg was created at the acorn base for gluing into the top of the cover.

After a couple of weeks at room temperate the bowl was ready for finishing.

Bearing in mind there is a requirement that it should be liquid proof (hot punch!) there was not much choice in available products. With out being treated, liquid would percolate through the porous base within minutes. The answer proved to be Rustins two part ‘Plastic Coating’ I lost count of the number of brush applied coats used but eventually it stopped soaking into the end grain and started to build up to a good surface. Every two coats was rubbed down with a fine abrasive culminating with a final rub with four oooo steel wool, waxed and burnished with a soft cloth.

As a test I poured a kettle of boiling water into the bowl and waited, it was left like this all morning without the least hint of a problem. The final test will be the real thing, hot wassail and bobbin apples up to the brim, waes hael to you all.

Segmented turned work has had its devotees amongst woodturners both amateur and professional since the 1930s (who remembers those two toned, brick-like biscuit barrels and fruit bowls?). In recent years some remarkable three-dimensional work has been produced, much of it pushing the boundaries of what would seem possible, some of it appearing in the pages of ‘Woodturning’. I wish to introduce you to some of the most exquisite ‘segmented’ turned work ever, and it was created with tools and equipment seen almost exclusively in museums today! I am referring to ‘Tunbridge ware’.

Tunbridge ware has become the term used to describe a whole range of ‘inlaid’ novelties and souvenirs including both turned and non-turned objects. The centre for this trade was, as indicated by it’s name, Tunbridge Wells and nearby Tonbridge in Kent, England.

It was the efficacious spa waters that led to Tunbridge wells prosperity, the town was fashionable with the wealthy seeking cures for their many ailments and was patronized by royalty as early as 1630. In 1661 the diarist John Evelyn, upon visiting his wife at the spar resort wrote, “I greatly admired the extravagant turning —toys—Yew wood tea sets” (miniature).

By 1697 another visitor, Celia Finnes observed,

“Shops full of toys – and all sorts of wooden ware which this place is noted – in both white and Lignum Vitae wood”.

Two of these early manufacturers were George Wise and a producer named Jordan, both noted as working in 1685. The wise family was still involved with the Tunbridge ware business C. 1860s, and would have witnessed many changes throughout that period.

The Tunbridge Wells spar economy was booming and it seems the local turners and other craftsmen responded efficiently to the demand for quality souvenirs. The first reference to inlaid work appears to be in 1762 when the art critic Samuel Derrick records sending a present to a friend. It was a dressing box and set of toilet boxes of ; “’Tunbridge Wells’ inlaid with highly polished yew, cherry, Holly and other woods of which the neighborhood yields great plenty”. The inlay referred to at this date would have been veneers and not the ‘stickwork’ and ‘mosaic’ work of the nineteenth century.

It was probably always the case that apart from the quality pieces, aimed at the more wealthy visitors, rather cheaper and more utilitarian turned ware (often simple lidded boxes and toys) were produced. These would be aimed at the not so wealthy pockets of middle class patrons who wanted an affordable momento of their stay. Between 1790—1830 there was a vogue for light coloured polished boxes with painted decoration, often in the form of coloured lines applied whist still on the lathe. On the lids of some were pasted engraved designs printed on paper, I have an example celebrating the opening of the first tunnel under the river Thames in London.

Today, the term ‘Tunbridge-ware’ is most associated with the wide range of exquisite artifacts ‘inlayed’ with a range of contrasting woods, both native and exotics. Amongst the latter will be found Ebony, Rosewood, Kingwood, Date Palm, Black Bean, Tulipwood, and Corolmandel. The native timbers use were very extensive, the criteria for all timbers being:

• A: a hard grain to allow accurate cutting of very small, often angled sections and to give a fine finish.
• B: a wide range of colours to provide contrast so that the designs and patterns are displayed at their best.
• C: attractive grain arrangements when used in geometric patterns, although this seldom applied to turned work.

Bog Oak, Natural stained Oak (green), Yew wood, Lace wood, Walnut, Laburnum, Boxwood, Sycamore, Plum, Lilac, Maple, Cherry, even Fuze and Holly from Tunbridge Wells common, all these and many more English timbers are to be found in Tunbridge-ware.
  Rosewood, and to a lesser extent Ebony was the timber of choice for the solid element of most turned work during the 19th century, the dark richness of these two woods providing the perfect setting for inlaid ornamentation.

In simplistic terms, ‘inlaid’ Tunbridge ware can be divided into two main types. Firstly there are items decorated with plain veneers, or veneers made up of end grain mosaic (usually a mixture of the two) and glued onto flat (or ‘flattish’) surfaces such as rectangular lidded boxes. Secondly there are turned items produced in the main from ‘sticks’. It is this turned work that I shall concentrate on, although you will see, this is a very complicated subject and there is some ‘cross-over’ between the two disciplines.

It is thought that ‘stick work’/‘mosaic work’ evolved during the second decade of the nineteenth century. Great accuracy in sawing the individual contrasting ‘sticks’ was an essential element in producing acceptable work, the slightest error was immediately apparent in the finished piece. This accuracy is all the more astonishing bearing in mind that the sawing was done with a foot operated treadle circular saw. The geometric designs were made up of a number, sometimes a large number of contrasting profiled sticks that were assembled length wise and bonded with animal glue, then held together until dry with string.

When set, these sticks, (resembling a lettered stick of seaside rock) were cut into thin transverse slices to form the decoration of a large variety of items including sewing accoutrements, gaming counters, inlays of box tops and novelties of all-sorts. Some of these ‘sticks’ were themselves turned into complete, small decorative items, this is known as ‘stick ware’. As the nineteenth century progressed so did the complexity and size of work that could be achieved. At its zenith complete castles and other famous buildings, as well as animals and birds were miraculously created and inlaid into tea caddies, writing boxes; and even items of furniture. In this age of high tech lasers and computer aided everything, Victorian Tunbridge Ware is still a wonder to behold.

The advantages of Sycamore are several; it is easily available, is hard when dry, unlikely to split and takes a good finish. Furthermore it is white to light cream and mostly of plain grain, an ideal ‘canvass’ on which to decorate. Many of my vessels are of traditional form, often reflecting an old English medieval influence that seems to compliment my style of decoration. I have always been aware of a mysterious element that some Forests can generate and it is this that I have been trying to capture in my latest work. The Celtic spirit of the ‘greenwoods’, the ‘Green man’ has become a favorite subject of mine.

Because my vessels are turned quite thin (1- 4mm) the drying period is short, between 5 -14 days at room temperature. When dry, using a soft pencil (a hard one may indent the work) I lightly sketch my ideas onto the surface. Some of my work is pierced and fretted, this is done as a sequel to the sketching using a ‘mini drill’ fitted with a 3mm milling cutter. It is best not to cut right to the edge of the design, as there is a tendency for the cutter to wander; the edges can be cleaned up using a sharp knife, shaped files and abrasive.

Much of my artwork is done using a Peter Child pyrographic pen to burn the image into the wood. The temperature can be controlled to allow a wide range of shading and effects to be created but some practice is required to overcome the variation between winter and summer growth on end grain. Because summer growth is softer than that of winter the pen has a tendency to burn unevenly and this is an area where care needs to exercised. On some of my early goblets with a wall thickness of 1/2mm or less I used the pen to burn away the piercings. This worked very well but due to the delicate nature of the vessels they were not a commercial proposition, today I turn to a minimum of 1mm, a little more if the piece is to be carved.

Another decorative technique I use is stippling with a drawing pen using black ink. These drawing pens can be bought at any office supplies shop but one needs to be sure how the ink will react with the final finish. Cellulose or Acrylic spray from a can is my preferred finishing material, and now I always try spraying a sample of wood with a small area of inked work to observe the reaction. I well remember completing a stippled ink face on a goblet only to see it disappear as soon as a cellulose spray was applied. On another occasion the ink turned sepia brown.

Apart from drawing faces and figures, black ink can be used to create silhouette images. Colours are also used on some of my work; these are of two distinct types, spirit stains and paint from aerosol cans. The foot of the Green Man wassail bowl for instance is coloured using both yellow and green spirit stain up to the edge of the pyrography. Because the tree root design is burnt into the wood leaving a small channel a natural barrier is established and provides containment for the stain.

These techniques can be used in countless variations restricted only by the imagination. Look around your own environment and sphere of interest for inspiration, you may be surprised!

Much has been written of these Pole lathe turners and the contribution they made to the furniture-manufacturing town of High Wycombe, and, as is the way with history, distortion and myth tend to creep into the story. I have seen references to chair bodgers as being ‘itinerant’ but they never were. They were family men with a cottage to go home to every night. There was a garden to tend and animals to feed. Indeed, a number actually worked at home in a bottom of the garden shack or a cottage lean-to preferring to have their timber delivered rather than work in the woods.

For the chair bodgers of Speen, Lacy Green and Great Hampden villages the buying of timber was a great annual social event. The Hampden estate of the Duke of Buckingham owned most of the local Beechwoods and sold ‘stands’ or parcels of standing timber every autumn. A catalogue was issued to all prospective purchasers detailing the number of trees and species in each lot, its location and accessibility.

Armed with a catalogue the local Bodgers spent a day visiting each location and weighing up the pros and cons of each lot, were there enough trees to keep them busy for the next twelve months? was it easy to get a wagon on to the area? how far from home (walking distance) was it? They would check how sheltered or exposed the situation was but most of all they would study the trees. Were they straight from being sheltered or ‘rimey’ from exposure on the hilltops? Would the trees be ‘good or bad splitters’ or contain a devious grain that meant extra conversion time and more waste. What if your favourite lot proved too popular and you lost the bidding, it was all these considerations and uncertainties that made the auction such a big day in the chair bodger’s calendar.

The auction was held in a pub, the Hampden Arms, Great Hampden with the bidding starting at 1pm. The venue was open from 10am and the beer was free, paid for by the Hampden estate. This may be seen as an act of generosity by the woodland owners but was more of a ploy to loosen pockets and create over enthusiastic bidding later in the day. Successful buyers were given six months to pay. One bodger explained how useful this arrangement could be should that particular years work not go according to plan. If a bodger got into financial difficulties he could sell the remainder of his trees and with what he had made previously could at least hope to break even when the time came to pay.

An essential concession by the vendor was the 12 months allowed for clearing the woodland of purchased trees and the erecting of a shelter for the lathe. In wintertime the Bodgers started out for work on foot or bicycle, usually a journey of several miles and arrived at the woodland edge before daylight. These men knew the Beechwoods better than any one and yet on foggy mornings were glad to follow the trail of shavings they had left the night before. Candles were the main light source after dark; one perched on top of each poppet (head and tailstock). It was an eerie thing to see the glow of flickering light through the evening mist and hear the ‘razzle’ of a gouge against revolving green Beech!

Owen Dean lived only a stones throw from the Hampden Arms and was a regular bidder at the auction. He worked in partnership with his brother Alexander and they attracted a lot of attention in their latter years due to their being two of the last chair leg turners remaining. Even the BBC made a film of them in 1950. In earlier times the traditional Bodgers shelter or ‘Hovel’ was an ‘A’ framed arrangement, usually thatched with straw and twigs. Latter the thatch was sometimes replaced with corrugated iron. From the 1930s the Dean brothers used a panelled shed in the woods so they could lock up their equipment more securely, formally tools could be left in the safe knowledge that they would be there next morning, Owen’s lathe can be seen at the High Wycombe Chair Museum.

Another regular at the Hampden estate auctions was Reg Tilbury. He lived in the same row of cottages all his life and Beech trees planted by Reg as a boy, even today stop just short of Reg’s old front room window with only a lane intervening, he was a true man of the woods. Born in 1898 he decided at the age of 13 to work in the woods as a bodger‘ It was hard work for little pay, I worked from 7am to 6pm and brought home 1/6d (71/2p) a week. I knew others who started work at 6am’ he once told me.

Jack Rickson took Reg on as an apprentice.’ I used to do all the sawing on the (saw) horse, that was all I did for a long time. The chance to turn legs came when I was about 15.’Jack used to say I ought to pay him for teaching me!’ Reg joined the army in WW1 and each week sent his mother sixpence (21/2p) from his army pay packet. She saved all the moony and presented it to him. Reg used the money to start up in business on his own, it gave him the capital to by timber.

Reg used a pole lathe up to 1924 and then invested in an oil engine that he set up in a wooden outbuilding, this drove a wooden bedded power lathe. Two men were employed to convert green logs into chair legs in the cottage yard using traditional methods to split timber, shaping with the side axe and to shave billets on the shave horse. The new belt driven lathe was the only concession to modernity. The new engine also provided power to a circular saw that proved an enormous help in the other half of Reg’s business, firewood. When I first photographed the old workshop in 1982 it was a ruin but still housed the Petter oil engine and remnants of busy woodturning days. Reg had given up a Bodgers life to grow strawberries but still revelled in telling stories of the days when things were altogether different.the-chair-bodgers-