Why Build Prototypes?

You might wonder why go through the effort of constructing a prototype when building a new piece? After all, it requires material, and at least as much time to create it, as the “official” piece. Why not just apply those resources to the finished piece?

So here’s my story…

I embarked on this Oeben re-creation, after much study, by constructing a three-dimensional SketchUp (SU) model. The thought being build it in SU to work out the bugs in the process. This may come as a surprise to you, but ALL of the aprons on this table exhibit a curve to some degree (fortunately they’re not compound!). There are very few flat exterior surfaces on the piece! At the time, I thought the easiest way to handle this would be to begin with thick material, then shape it appropriately. I drew it this way, and didn’t look back. Life was good… Or was it?

Now it comes time to cut wood. So, I choose an appropriately thick piece of stock for the “Main Box” front. The “Main Box” being the “drawer” that extends forward when the top is released and retracted. It contains all of the other “hidden” components. For several weeks, I continue working – yet, something keeps bothering me. Each time I look at the curve for the front, it seems out of place, like it’s inappropriate, and not representative of what I see in the original. Finally, I sit down, and look through the photos. I come across an image taken of the bottom. It’s available on the Getty Museum’s website. I’m showing an outline of its shape below. The two open spots at the bottom are where the legs protrude.

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From it, I calculate the extent of the curvature at its most extreme, and learn that my drawing is about 1.5 cm too shallow. Not necessarily a show stopper. But wait – I look closer. Not all of the aprons were created in this fashion! It appears that the board comprising the rear apron was bent. Looking further still, I come across this photo showing the underside of the “Main Box”.

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It shows a uniform thickness board bending in a gentle arc composing the front of the “Main Box”. So, it appears that my plan to work a thicker board to shape is incorrect. Now the question becomes how did Oeben’s craftsmen accomplish this?

There are several methods for creating curves in wood. The most basic is to cut perpendicular kerfs along its inside. This leaves voids allowing room for compression. However, these spaces are highly visible, and from the previous picture, not in evidence in this table. A second method involves slicing the board into thin planks along the grain then gluing them back together while clamped to a form. Once the glue dries, the board maintains the shape. I have witnessed instances where this was done and difficult to detect, but I don’t believe that this method was used either. A third procedure involved steaming the board and bending it. While this seems to be plausible, was this historically correct for the period in which the table was made?

Following a brief exchange with Patrick Edwards, this appears not to be the case. According to Patrick:

Oeben did not steam bend furniture.  French curves are sawn from solid wood.  Although Denis Papin (1647-1712) invented the steam pressure cooker, no one thought to use it to bend wood until the 19th century.  Complex two dimensional curves are “sculpted” as you suggest using chisels and scrapers.  Final truing of the surface was with toothing planes.

So, my initial methodology was correct, and the aprons were hewn from thicker stock.

If I hadn’t taken the time to construct the prototype, I may have missed out on this learning opportunity. Not only do prototypes help you work through unforeseen issues that weren’t caught during the modeling phase, and provide valuable practice for building the final version:

If you can’t get it right on the prototype, how do you expect to get it right for the final piece?

The process of creating a prototype gives insight into how the piece was originally made – living archeology, if you’re paying attention!

So, what becomes of the current prototype now that this issue has come to light? After all, good material and effort has already been expended to reach this point. Rather than discard it, I decided to laminate material and “thicken it up”, upon consideration. While this will allow me to obtain the appropriate external shape, the interior will remain as it is presently. It’s a compromise I will live with for now…

Progress Report: Prototype Main Box

Back in October, I spent one week in Franklin, IN focused on beginning the prototype construction starting with what I term the Main Box. This is the “drawer” that extends from beneath the top when the mechanism is released. Being what feels like perpetually behind, I wanted to post a series of pictures showing the progress from that point up to now.

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Cutting dovetails for the Main Box carcass.

In the image below, note that the sides of the Main Box carcass stand above the rest of the case. This accommodates the flaps that cover the interior compartments to either side. Observant readers will also note that these are square in profile rather than angled at a 45° bevel. I purposely left them in this state to prevent damage to the prototype at this stage. Rather than measuring, there is a fair degree of fitting and scribing based on the shapes of the existing components. The sharp arrises would be absolutely chewed up during this activity, so I thought it best to leave them square. This will be addressed just prior to glue-up.

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Main Box frame.

Note that in the picture above, the front is flat not curved as the original. This too will be fixed prior to glue up. When working with curvy and complex profiles, it is sometimes best to leave the surfaces flat not only to prevent damage, but also to facilitate layout, clamping, etc.

Attached to the rear of the Main Box is a piece that covers the gap between the table top, and the flaps and book rest. This strip follows the profile of the top in its deployed position, and must be “scribed” directly from the top, then adjusted to fill the necessary space. To do this, I used the template I created to shape the top marked with additional information on the extents of the components when fully open.

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Positioning the top and Main Box to layout the “cover strip”, a profiled wooden piece mounted to the top rear of the Main Box.

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Detail of the “cover strip”.

One of the more straight forward tasks was the creation of the small “hidden” drawer that fits in the center section of the Main Box…

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The Main Box carcass with “hidden” small drawer installed.

…which gets covered over by a thin wood panel, and the “cover strip” when assembled.

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Main Box with “cover strip”, and center panel in place.

The next task is the creation of the two flaps the over the “hidden” compartments on each side of the Main Box. Using frame and panel construction with a complication, a tenoned or splined miter for frame joints, these too get scribed to their adjacent components.

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Two of the flap frame pieces showing the splined miter.

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The splined miter from the inside vantage.

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Flaps overlaid on the Main Box carcass ready to be trimmed.

Finishing out the Main Box will be the book rest. It will be composed of a similar frame and panel assembly.

On the importance of drawing…

 

 

One of the things that makes this project complex are the mechanisms on which the table operates. Although I have several pictures of them from my trip to the Getty, I still needed to draw everything out. This is necessary not only to have them manufactured, but also to ensure that everything fits together and operates smoothly. Despite these reasons, it’s a major pain in the posterior!

SketchUp to the rescue!

SketchUp is a fantastic design tool/laboratory. By determining proportions from the aforementioned pictures, I created scale drawings of each of the mechanism parts. While the urge to send these individual part drawings off for manufacture was great, better judgement prevailed. Luckily, this averted a “situation”. Instead, I methodically fit the pieces in place in the carcass model, and made several “discoveries” along the way!

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The top rack and guide are offset toward the outside of the carcass.

The upper racks are offset toward the outsides of the carcass least they interfere with the main box travel. Here’s surprise number 1: if I mount the upper racks and guides flush with the inside of the carcass, they will interfere with the “main box”. Checking my photos, sure enough, the original makers moved the racks and guides outward to make the room necessary.

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Initial model of the upper rack (it’s upside-down). It’s not tall enough!

Also, I needed to extend the height of these racks so that the top cleared the main box. My photos provided the multiple aspects necessary to deduce their dimensions. However, they can be unreliable sometimes. Small errors propagate. “Installing” the racks into the SketchUp model allowed their height to be tweaked, and the top to clear the main box to the desired level.

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Fixed the upper rack. Now the top will clear the main box!

This process also helped me discover a quirk with the lower rack installation. The lower guides mounted to the carcass sides extend beyond the inside face of the rear panel, that is, the back. Although I’d seen this before, I had never really considered the rationale for it. I figured that the makers were being lazy. Turns out it has a critical purpose. It accommodates the movement of the lower rack (the one fixed to the main box) when the table is closed. I didn’t realize it, but the back panel in the original is mortised just for this reason. The evidence was there in the photos the whole time. I just didn’t see it until my attention was drawn by this.

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Note how the lower rack projects into the rear panel? The original is mortised out for just this purpose.

The final parts to be modeled are the main spring barrel mechanisms. The chief consideration with these involves the force required to drive the main box/top assembly when the latch is released. Too great a force, and it could jolt the table possibly knocking it over. Too little force, and the assembly could get stuck. My solution is to build the prototype main box, I already have the prototype top, and get their combined weight/mass. From this, we should be able to determine the appropriate tension, or at least get close, for the spring drives. I’m betting that this is the same process that Oeben’s craftsmen used in their time too. Except for SketchUp! 🙂

Stocking up

Over the last two weeks, the prototype materials have been arriving. I wanted to post some pictures of them for you. Recall that the prototype will be made of poplar. It will serve as the construction test case, especially for fitting and fine tuning the mechanisms. If my experience with the drawings is any indication, I anticipate that I’ll encounter a learning cliff on that last part! More on that in a later post…

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Based on the SketchUp models I’ve discussed previously, this is more than enough poplar for the carcase. It should cover everything necessary from the ten inch wide panels that form the bottom and intermediate dust frames between the main box and drawer, to the massive 12/4 thick side apron pieces, and literally everything in between. Forming and shaping the Louis XV style legs will be an educational experience. I can’t wait!

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Finally off to the left rear in the image above, are two more pieces of poplar for the prototype. Along with this, I’ve managed to pick up some materials that will be used in the final piece, specifically the marquetry. The massive reddish block near the center back is bloodwood, in front of that to the right are three pieces of satinwood, and two padauk boards. To their left is a chunk of Spanish cedar (which smells wonderful!). All of these will be resawn into 1/16 to 3/32 inch thick sheets of veneer which can be combined into packets to create the final designs. You will also note three sheets of commercially sliced veneer towards the front. These were used to assess the proper species for the parquetry on the side panels: kingwood, tulipwood, and bloodwood.

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A problem arose while researching the parquetry species in the original table. One source, Ramond’s Masters of Marquetry, states that the parquetry is composed of tulipwood and bloodwood, while the J. Paul Getty museum claims kingwood and bloodwood. The figure of tulipwood and kingwood can look similar, especially in small pieces such as those used on this table. Judging by the present appearance of the table, and the knowledge that woods change color with time, I’m going with the Getty on this one…