Making a backsplash, part two

When I opened the kiln, this was my first glimpse of the tiles.


It's rather amazing that when those were loaded onto a shelf, they were nearly touching. The space around them came as they shrunk to their final size.

Since the wall where these tiles will be placed is heavily textured and painted, I decided to use a piece of cement board, or Hardiebacker board, to adhere to the wall, thus evening out the surface for installation.


And although the dudes at my local told me I could score the cement board with a utility knife and snap it, I know better. Accomplishing that is more difficult than it sounds, I've always gotten a jagged edge. So I switched blades in my tablesaw to an old one, one that I never use anymore, and prepared to cut the board by drawing out the profile needed.

Oh, I forgot to mention that I made a pattern first out of paper. So I simply traced the paper onto the cement board, and then started cutting.

This makes a god-awful amount of dust. In fact, there are warning labels on the board, letting you know how bad this dust (silica) is for you. So I took a few precautions:
slapped on my respirator, aimed my biggest fan so that it would blow the dust outside, turned on my air cleaner, and hooked a vacuum up to my tablesaw dust port.

Can't be too careful!

And after much coaxing and complaining (from my sawblade), here's the piece of cement board cut to size.

Next step - playing with the tile to decide it's proper layout. Since I'm a bit of a klutz, I started by placing the board on one of my shop carts.

I'm a huge fan of carts in my studio, they take a load off of my back, and allow me to move things easily around the room. This is my largest cart, perfect for holding this board as I play with the design.

I started by laying out a few tiles into rows; This was my original design.

After I finished, I rolled the cart outside to get a better view of these tiles in the sunshine.

My friend Adrienne, stopped by to see the tiles, so we ended up drinking a beer and figuring out solutions to the world's problems. We always have deep conversations when she stops by! So by the time she left, I couldn't decide which layout I wanted to use - the brick layout above, or a modular layout. I decided to sleep on it, and play with it in the morning.

James Krenov video

Read this three times: my work was never the same after I read James Krenov's book - The Fine Art of Cabinetmaking.

Sometimes you read something that makes lights go off in your head. Or your jaw drop open. His book did both to me, at a time when I'd just gotten my degree in Furniture Design, and thought I had a solid grasp of design principles. Ha!

The San Francisco Chronicle has an article about JK, as he's known to his students.

Custom Tiled Backsplash

So I'm working on a small tile project, and I thought I'd take a few pictures and talk about it as I progress. It's a custom backsplash for a kitchen, specifically the area right behind a stove. That's usually the area that can get a lot of splashing and splatters, and if you're a messy cook, that area will look like ass the next time you make spaghetti sauce or fry some peppers.



Stove openings are generally 30" wide, and the area that I want to tile is roughly 20" tall . I plan on taking the tile lower than the counter height, for a little more protection to the wall.

So the first step (at least the way I do things!) is to decide which glaze to use. Here's a sample of the plastic laminate used on the countertop, it's mostly browns/beige with some very pale blue highlights.



I'm a big fan of modular tiles, where they all fit together and I have a little bit of leeway about the layout. Here's a sample of a wall piece, notice the four panels it it.



Each panel measures roughtly 9" x 10". Maybe it's boring, but I never get tired of using tiles that are 1,2,3,4, and 5 inches square. After the tiles are glazed and fired, I can lay them out in whatever pattern I choose. Here are a few examples.



After taking some dimensions, I decide that instead of using a modular system based on squares, I'm going to utilize a combination of a brick layout. I played around with the dimensions and decided to use two different sized tiles, that would allow me to add that variation into the design scheme. Since I was firing the kiln, added in some test tiles, to try and decide which glaze to use.

I felt like the countertop was crying out for a dark brown glaze, so here were my first sample pieces.


But I didn't love the way the colors looked with each other. While I was trying to decide what to do, I rolled out the slabs, added some texture, and bisque fired them.

Something I learned about making backsplashes - a while ago, I made about 5' of backsplash tile for a bathroom sink. Because I didn't want to have to fight the shrinkage of the clay, I made a variety of widths of these tiles, and then, after they were fired, picked out the ones that best fit the space I was tiling. I usually make way more than I need anyway.

So I decided to use that same method with this backsplash. The only thing I was concerned about was the height of the tiles, and I decided to make the height in two sizes, so that I could modularly fit the tiles all together. I'm so anal.

Back to choosing the glaze... I have maybe 25 or 30 different colors in my glaze pallette, some of which fire effortlessly, and others which give me nightmares. The ones that really seem to give me headaches are glazes with cobalt in them. They tend to blister, and can ruin perfectly wonderful pieces.

But - remember that the plastic laminate has some blue in it, so using a blue glaze might be perfect. For the non potters - cobalt in a glaze will give you the blue color. Only I was worried that I might have some blistering.

I belong to an online ceramic community, and there was a recent discussion about a glaze I'd never used, called Floating Blue. One potter said it was his favorite because it was so stable and dependable. Then, Ron Roy, one of the authors of Mastering Cone 6 Glazes, wrote into the ceramic board, saying that he'd reformulated the recipe for Floating Blue, to make it even MORE stable. Sweet. I trust any recipe that Ron shares, he's a glaze genius.

After mixing up a 100 gram batch of it, I painted a few tiles and stuck them into my next kiln load. Yow-zah! I think I'm in love. And despite the cobalt in the glaze, I didn't have any blistering at all.

See what I mean about the two different heights for the tiles?


I tested the glaze in several different thicknesses, and actually liked it a little thicker than normal, so that the texture on the tile was obscured. That meant three coats.


If you double click on the picture above, you'll see what I mean.



So all of my design problems had finally been solved - glaze choice, tile size, and layout. Time to start glazing.


The BM means Black Mountain clay. I use two different clay bodies, and they look quite similar when they're in this bisqued state. So I've learned to label them.




There were a total of 170 tiles. That means 510 coats to apply.


As I type this, the kiln is cooling. I'll be able to open it tomorrow, and you know what we potters say.... opening a kiln is like Christmas morning.

Some of my favorite woodworkers

One of my favorite cities in the US is Philadelphia, mostly because it is home to the Philadelphia Furniture and Furnishings Show every spring.

Though the venue has changed, and the list of exhibitors is never the same, the show offers a consistently amazing array of woodworkers. I'm not 100% sure about this, but I think the show has also morphed into primarily a furniture show, rather than including things like lighting, fabrics (rugs, pillows and quilts), metal smiths, home accessories and more.

If that's true, it's a shame.

When I started attending the show around the mid-90's, it was held at the convention center, just a short walk from the Liberty Bell and across the street from the Reading Terminal Market. Honestly, I'd visit Philadelphia just to go to this market, it's incredible.



Did you know the Liberty Bell cracked the very first time it was rung? If you're a geek like me, check out that link and read some more trivia about the bell. Think of all the bar bets you'll be able to win.

To round out my time in Philly and turn it into a truly decadent weekend, I'd stay at the Marriott there by the market, so that renting a car wasn't necessary. I don't have a lot to compare it to, but the public transportation in Philadelphia was so user friendly, I could land at the airport, walk to a train station, and take a short train ride to the convention center. My hotel was right there, so it was about as convenient as could be. Sweet. Since the venue has changed, I'm not sure about the accessibility to the new location. Regardless, it's an easy city to navigate, and full of artists.

Whenever I'd return home, I'd have a huge stack of brochures and color postcards from all the artists I'd met. Multiply that by the six or eight or ten years I attended the show - that's a buttload of information!

So I thought I'd share a few of my favorite artists that I'd met through the years. Artists are a funny bunch - some were friendly and open to discussing not only their work, but their "story" too - how they came to be a woodworker, or what their philosophy of woodworking was about. Others were more private, almost paranoid, as if sharing their thoughts would somehow allow someone to "steal" their designs. I've never understood that.


Anyway, here are a few of my favorite woodworkers. Enjoy.

John Reed Fox

John's work remains one of my favorite memories of the PFFS. His pieces look quite simple, but they're incredibly dignified and refined, with solid design and workmanship.

Years ago, I made a small wall cabinet that had sides with sculpted curves, much like the curves that John uses in the tops of his pieces. Those curves are much more difficult to make than they look. MUCH more.


Machining those curves once was enough for me. Combine that with his choice of woods, and his Asian influence, and... well, I'd welcome one of his pieces in my home any day.

Rachel Fuld

Rachel's work has also been a favorite of mine for years. In fact, above my desk, I have a bulletin board with a few color postcards pinned to it, and one of Rachel's postcards is hanging here. The card is eight years old, which shows you how much I love the piece that's on it.

Here it is, postmark and all...



There's a simplicity and refinement to her work that I just love, not to mention that graphic nature of her designs. And her use of milk paint is extraordinary. Rachel is currently president of the board of trustees of The Furniture Society.

After I requested permission to use these images, Rachel wrote to say that between her duties with the Furniture Society and her two small children, she's not building much furniture these days. I don't know about you, but I look forward to the day when she returns to it.

David Laro

There is a playfulness in David's work that I admire. He takes everyday objects, like a pair of scissors, a can of sardines, a wrench, or spaghetti twirled around a fork, and turns them into pieces of furniture.

His pieces are very well made, and any piece would be great accent in a home. I love his sense of whimsy.

Del Guidice, Mark

Mark's work combines everything I love in a piece of furniture - great use of color and imagery, excellent craftsmanship, and a whimsical nature that belies the materials used. His work is so visually captivating that when I used to visit his booth, I would stay for hours, looking at every single carving. He probably thought I was a stalker.

By carving onto his pieces using a variety of symbols (including Morse code, heiroglyphics, and more), Mark tells us stories within each piece. His work represents the perfect justification for buying a custom built piece of furniture - his pieces are truly one of a kind.

Mark's website wouldn't allow me to send him an e-mail, so that I could get permission to put a few of his pieces here. But I highly suggest you check it out. When I win the lottery someday, I will commission a headboard like the one on his home page.

In a word - GORGEOUS.

Also, check out this video on Mark's work.



And finally...Phil was the only person who didn't answer my request to post some of his images here. But if I left him off this list, I'd be omitting one of the work of one of the most incredible woodworkers I've ever seen. Make sure you click on his name and check out his site.

Phil Weber

Imagine a box, small enough to hold in your hand, but as precious as a piece of jewelry. Phil's boxes are light-years ahead of any boxes you will ever see.

(Read that sentence three time.)

His craftsmanship is incredible, with intricate detail and intelligent use of materials. Even the pictures on his website don't do them justice, they're best seen in a setting where you can see one after the other after the other. His boxes make most box-makers look like regular hobbyists - and that's not a slight on the rest of us woodworkers, it's a tribute to the work he produces.

Hope you've enjoyed my list.

Guess what I did today?

Still waiting...

I've been working on a blog post about my favorite woodworkers, when it dawned on me that I should probably write to the people I'm including in my list. Generally, if I post a picture of someone else's work, I ask permission.

So I wrote to the artists who are on my list, asking if it's OK to post a picture or two of their work. The only problem... no one has responded.

Hmmm.... that sucks.

Anyway, if I don't hear anything from them in the next day or two, I'll just post a link to their sites, but no photos. Oh well...

And on a related note, I received an e-mail from the editor of Las Vegas Woman magazine, asking if it was OK for them to include a picture of one of my sushi dinnerware sets in their holiday issue.


See? It's polite to ask!

Sorry for the delay!

It's been a while - I've been in a little bit o' computer hell.

Well, not really, but here's a picture of my desk, with three Mac Powerbooks docked together. Notice the one in the middle, with the track ball attached to it? That's the one on which I wore out the trackpad - so the only way to navigate on it is to plug in a mouse or a track ball.


If this laptop was a car, it would have 600,000 miles on it. But you know what? It's still the one I prefer to use, warts and all.

I'm such a long time Mac user, I remember when they were made without an internal hard drive. In fact, I still have one of those first generation computers stored in my woodshop.


Anyway, I have a blog post started on my favorite woodworkers, and will post it here very shortly. I keep adding more and more names to add to my list! If anyone has an absolute favorite woodworker that you think I might like (and want to include in my post) please send me a message and I'll look at their work.

Be back soon...

My first piece

Let's talk about our first piece.

In this case, I'm referring to the first piece of furniture I ever built.

I received so many e-mails about my last post, about the humble beginnings of becoming a woodworker, and a few people asked about the first piece of furniture I ever built. Honestly, I don't even know how it got into my head that I wanted to build one, but the first piece I ever built was a hope chest.

Yup.

I had to doctor this photo up a bit - to cut it from it's original setting in a hideous 70's room, with shag carpeting and faux wood paneled walls. It I were better at Photoshop, it would look better than this. But I'm not, so it doesn't.

And I had to sit and think hard about this piece; I couldn't remember where it is. I left it back in Ohio when I moved west. A friend back there has temporary custody, and assures me that if I ever want it back it's mine. I keep telling her that when I die, it might be worth something. Who knows.

What's interesting about this piece is that it was so complex considering the skills I had at the time. I'm not sure I would build a piece like that today, honestly.

The top of this piece is stave construction, meaning that it was built similar to the way a barrel is built. The top consists of about 40 strips of wood, all with a very small angle on them, built around a form. The strips were glued in place, just two at a time, until the semi-circle was complete. Of course, the very last strip in the center was the most difficult one, it had to be hand fitted, with a plane doing most of the work.

Once the top was glued, I had to go back with a variety of tools - a rasp, hand plane, and belt sander, to smooth out the facets and turn it into one giant curve. Pretty slick for a 15 year old. Like I said, I'm not sure I'd even attempt that today.

OK, well, maybe I would. It would be a challenge.

Like I said, this piece was amazingly complex for a rookie. It was lined in tongue and groove aromatic cedar, and had handmade leather handles on each side. I even installed a mortised lock on it!

The brass trim on this piece was hand formed, to fit the curve perfectly, and I have to admit, my woodshop teacher mentioned in the previous post helped me out with this. I'd never done any metal work, but it's possible that forming all the brass trim for this piece started my love affair with mixed media.

Wood and metal? love it.

Concrete and wood? You betcha.


(This is the latest book I'm reading.)

And of course, I have a special place in my heart for wood and ceramic tile.


Talking about all work has started me thinking about my next post - my favorite woodworkers, with (hopefully) links to their websites.

Woodwork Magazine

A few days ago, I received the latest issue of WoodWork Magazine.

Life being as it is (hectic) - this issue sat on my desk for a few days, until I finally picked it up and thumbed through it. The article about Ross Day was my favorite part of this issue, his work is beautiful and I could, in some ways, relate to his muddling through life until he discovered woodworking.

People ask me how I got started in woodworking, and it's an odd story. But for one or two different decisions in life, I could have been a chef or an engineer or a teacher.

Oh wait, I WAS a teacher.



Growing up in Los Angeles, I attended a catholic school and was a pretty decent student, no thanks to my study habits which were non-existant. In fact, I took advanced placement math classes at a young age.

To this day, I can do math in my head that rivals Rain Man math. One piece of proud trivia about me - show me a board from ten paces and I can tell you it's length, within a half inch or so. (OK, now every one's going to try and trip me up on this, I know it!) I can calculate in my head anything from percentages to fractions, square footage to counting cards when playing blackjack.

Wait, that can get me barred from a casino.

Good thing I don't like playing blackjack - I'm more of a craps player.


Before I digress about my passion for craps, let me finish the story about school.

When I was an adolescent, my family moved from LA to Ohio, a decision which I considered to be of major blunderous proportions.

I mean... Ohio?

I went from this

to this


And because I had been taking those AP math classes, when I went to register for classes in Ohio, I was too far ahead of my peers. I wasn't allowed to sign up for the next class I qualified for, I was too young. So much for no child left behind, but that was in the 70's, and no program like that existed.

So I was told that I had to wait for the rest of my peers to catch up, Meanwhile, I had to take "filler" courses. I was steered toward Home Ec.


Really?



Cooking? Sewing?

Me?

The only time I was ever "boarded" in high school was in my Home Ec class. For anyone who doesn't understand that term - it means getting your ass beaten legally by a teacher.

With a board.

Hence... boarding.

Why would that happen, you ask? When I discovered I'd sewn a long seam without any bobbin thread, I cussed like a sailor on a drinking jag. And was promptly ordered out in the hall, to receive my punishment. If that happened today, teachers would probably be brought up on charges, but back then, it was deemed perfectly appropriate.

Out in the hallway, getting my ass whipped, wasn't my idea of where I wanted to be. Of course, I was probably calculating the length of that paddle versus how much it was going to hurt.

As soon as possible, I dropped out of Home Ec and signed up for woodshop.



Back then, girls not only were discouraged from taking shop, they weren't allowed to take it.

Bizarre.

Maybe by then, they realized I wasn't Betty Crocker material, so they relented, and the rest, as they say, is history.

My high school woodworking instructor, Garold Garrett, went on to not only become my mentor, but a good friend. While he was teaching at Kent State University, I would visit his woodworking classes, lecturing about life as a woodworker. I know one thing - I wish I had gotten the chance to hear someone talking about it when I was their age.

So I started this blog post, writing about that article in Woodwork Magazine, and somehow got distracted into talking about paths taken in life, and others ignored.

Priorities change over time; some needs diminish, and new ones pop up. Things that once seemed to important just fade away and new things take their place.

About five years ago, when the first batch of government stimulus checks were mailed, I was talking to my friend, Gina, who was lamenting everything from the start of the war to the fact that her life priorities had changed. She planned on taking her $300 and using it to pay for a huge dumpster to be placed in her yard, so she could throw out a life-time of junk that she'd accumulated. She looked at the $300 as if it were buying her a new start in life, a time to purge herself of all the crap that she thought was important, but really wasn't.

Which led me to thinking about priorities.

In fact, I've been doing that a lot for the last 5 years or so, ever since my dad died. Death forces us to think differently, about everything from relationships to materialism, to paths not taken. In short, I was looking for an emotional haircut. A trimming away of the things that I don't need or want anymore. Which brings me back to that damn magazine.

See, I am a magazine junkie. I subscribe to entirely too many of them, and I want to stop the madness. Right now. But I don't know how.

I've subscribed to Fine Woodworking magazine since it's very first issue; we have a co-dependency thing going on, I admit it.



I can't end my subscription, and yet, I don't want it to continue. What's a woodworker to do? WoodWork Magazine helped me out of this predicament by announcing that the current issue would be it's last. On one hand, they did me the favor or breaking it off with me, before I had a chance to break it off with them. Sort of like a few relationships I've had in my life.

Although I'll miss their how-to articles and certainly their stories about other woodworkers, I'll be OK. Break-ups should all be as painless as this.

And to my friend - Dave, who's always said that if I ever want to get rid of my library of Fine Woodworking magazines... if I ever decide to stop the madness, you'll be the first to know.

Please register, you don't have much time left...