Andre Plante – Canada
Brett Almey – Canada
Chung Leong Tang – Malaysia
David Stevens – United States
Benny Miscavage – United States
Travis Gran – United States
Ted Boey – Canada
Steve Wright – Canada
Yvonne Van Norman
Robert Van Norman
Gary Kent
At school the first term students and I fit our drawers, made and fit the frame and panel back to our cabinets, and began work on the sawhorses. In the time between lectures and assisting the students, I began work on the set of chairs in narra, I began a while back.
I finished roughing out the crest rail blanks, and finished the rear seat rail joinery. Over the next few days I will pick away at completing the shaping on the back legs. The narra is lovely and will make a fine chair, but not nearly as strong as the white oak the originals were made, so I have made all the parts a trifle larger than the originals. I can adjust the visual weight when I get to the edge treatment.
With less than two weeks left in the term, despite the diminishing daylight, the evenings are getting longer and the mornings earlier. Over the years I have come to enjoy this time. Sunday I will head into the school and prepare the millwork for next term.
In my own workshop this past week, I crosscut the supports to length, and dialled in the fit of the notch. I am heading out after I write to finish the shaping before turning my attention to the shoulders on the twin live tenons, which need a bit of work.
Life is busy but good. In the words of Eva Zeisel, “My hands have remembered something remembered. Not my mind but my hands.
Be well and enjoy your work,
Robert
This past week, the first term students and I made drawers for our little cabinets. When we begin, I remind the students, that work of this sort is among the most personal work we do. The way we hold a chisel in our hand, the sensitive touch as it shears the fibres as we approach a fit. The way a tail is carefully fitted to the sweeping inward curve of the pin is a beautiful thing, something that can only be created by the human hand.
As we approach the end of our eight week of the fall term and my return to teaching full time, I cannot remember being happier in my life and work. I contribute much of this to my daily walks, meditation and yoga. This is the time in the program when I remind the students that they too need to take care of themselves, so that they can do their best work,
This morning as I sat at the front bench preparing for my morning lecture, I looked around the room and all my students were working at their benches. It was focused yet relaxed vibe in the school. I am so grateful for my life and work.
When I returned home this evening after my beautiful after class walk by the sea, I spent some time in my workshop before sitting down to write. I am making some utility shelving for Yvonne’s sewing room. I am using a few bits and pieces of brown oak left from Andi’s showcase cabinet. They were all to small to run over the machines, so I dimensioned each of the pieces by hand, before cutting the joinery. This is an exercise that we do often at the school, and a skill that is invaluable in our craft. I have them roughly shaped and have carved a few hooks where they will be useful. The bocote is from a small piece from Jim, and in time will age beautifully along side the oak.
On the first day of the program, I shared a short passage from a book by Thich Nhat Hanh in which he suggests that he is a poet, but for him to write poetry well, he needs to grow lettuce. I believe this to be true.
I am a teacher, but for me to be a good teacher I must and spend time at my bench. I spend my days in a beautiful place surrounded be aspiring amateurs, and my evenings, weekends and breaks in my beautiful workshop.
Be well & enjoy your work… and grow lettuce
Robert
Morning. I open the wall cabinet hanging in my room, a cabinet that was my first big undertaking. A wave of a fresh lemony smell, Port Orford Cedar. I open a drawer, sweet and pungent Olive… And with the smell a deep nostalgie. A time of devotion. Forest and ocean. A master and his family, fellow students on the path. Full days that are exhilarating and draining. Intriguing wealth of knowledge. Excitement and success mixed with fear and despair. Hands looking for their right position and starting out as a child again, to eventually, finally, taste mastery.
Inside Passage will change you. For better or worse, that’s up to you. Everything is given – the wood, the experience, the huge heart. Close your heart and it will be your adversary, will manifest your unravelled knots, disappoint, and will worry you and those around you. Open and it will carry you, will be an anchor to rely on, a wonder and a delight, and so you will become a better version of yourself. You will get a chance to love.
It’s not going to be easy. Yet it is the easiest thing to do. It will kick your ass, and it will hug you and be a home. It’s real. Accept the challenge, listen, be humble and try your best. You will fall, because you’re human. You can get up – everything is available here for you to do so, even if it’s not perfect, as you aren’t. Before you know it you will have an arsenal of tools, techniques and approaches that are rare, that take folks decades to figure out, if at all. That’s what it feels like to be part of a tradition, a belonging that can run through your emotion as much as it does through your mind and hands.
I don’t know what I would have been without Inside Passage. I know that it has shaped me further than I can explain, and I gave it what I could. I walk in the world as a different man. For that, all I feel is gratitude.
More than 3 years ago, in May of 2015, I went for it the first time and flew to Canada. I didn´t really know what to expect. A lot of thinking and negotiation had proceeded that step, but the final decision was made when my friend Michael visited his sister Caroline, a teacher at the Inside Passage School, and brought me back a copy of Krenov‘s ”Impractical Cabinetmaker.”
After reading ”Impractical Cabinetmaker”, I ordered more books by Krenov. I started trying out what I read in a cold and rough but charming community workshop in Munich. I made 2 or 3 pieces there and then I flew!
The first term was hard: Everything in English, a high pace, long hours and many skilled people around. I had no training before that and had no scale for this kind of work: how flat can a handplaned surface even be, how square is square?
Luckily Robert and Caroline were amazing, kind and patient teachers and the schedule was set up in a natural progression: starting with sharpening and tool preparation to plane-making (still one of the most enjoyable things about this approach at the school: working with tools you made) and onto a little cabinet that involved all the basic techniques that should sink in over the next sessions/year/a lifetime.
The second term? Even harder, probably the hardest of them all!
Starting off with a certain cockiness (being second term, having done things already once, 4 planes on the toolcabinet), in combination with absolute focus on the school and being side by side with students as motivated and eager as me resulted in regular 12 hour days and working throughout the weekend. It also resulted in the steepest learning-curve so far; pushing my own abilities to the max. Once again, Robert always made sure we would not get too crazy (…) and Caroline was always there with a good eye.
The second term resulted in a beautiful 5 drawer wall cabinet, still one of my favourite pieces. And even though I went to Squamish after, I was too tired for world class climbing…
I came back in spring of 2017, after a year of aquiring machines, setting up a small workshop in Germany and finding out I was simply not ready to work on my own.
For various reasons I would still consider the third term as being my easiest term. Although it didn´t feel like it, during the year I was working on my own in Germany, my handskills definitely improved and some movements and sequences became second-nature to me.
The chair term is pretty much laid out for you: there is a definite sequence of steps, all the angles and dimensions are there and allow you to focus on what this exercise can teach you: a thorough understanding of grain graphics and their possibilities. Every part of Vidar´s chair is carefully selected and rotated to give the best grain orientation that compliments its shape. While this is already important for cabinet work, an (even slight) deviation of pattern becomes even more obvious in the thin, fragile parts of a chair.
The second emphasis of the chair is joinery; joinery in all gradations. From ”simple” mortise and tenon joinery to mortise and tenon on an angle (..or on a compound angle.. or on a curve.. you get it all!) Still, as technical as it sounds (and sometimes is), the chair also gives you long hours with the spokeshave, the tool you will get most familiar during the third term.
And then, suddenly, it was there: the composing term.
Still not feeling ready for something of my own and having learned to appreciate the advantages a reproduction gives you in a school setting, I decided to attempt a Krenov piece I simply loved from the moment I saw it. (actually there are two that always stuck out for me browsing through the books, but more on that later.) It was a quite timeless, large cabinet, with two facets running down the front over the full height. The top was a showcase with V-shaped glass doors, all the parts veneered and the bottom doors matching the shapes of the top ones.
Pretty soon I was set on some beautiful pieces of English Brown Oak donated to the school by an alumni who passed away less than a year earlier. The planks were purchased by Doug Ives when he was in his third year at the school. I was the very grateful to be first recipient of the scholarship on his name. I decided that I´d use White Oak for the inside of the cabinet, an exceptional piece from Caroline.
Because of the big surfaces of the piece, I spent the first weeks of the project just cutting veneers and making the lumbercore I needed. It soon became obvious to me that this piece was something beyond what I´d ever made before. Veneer, a construction method I dismissed at first, became intriguing to me with this cabinet. But still, working with veneer feels oh so different! Even though it is shop-sawn and about 2mm thick, you have to work the surfaces with great care not to tear anything out. You are still able to work them as we do solid wood, but the tolerances are much tighter.
This piece and all its random angles that needed to match brought me close to a padded cell at times. The cabinet has travelled with me to Germany and I am making friends with it again, but back then it was a love and hate relationship.
But, all this does not say anything about what I learned in this session! As challenging as it was, as many mistakes as I made (and repaired), I still –or maybe therefore– learned so much! I learned about veneer construction and work drawings, about frustration and how to get through it (or rather knowing when to go home sometimes). I learned that it is hard to finish a piece sometimes, but also that one detail can suddenly get you excited all over again!
In this case, this detail was the base or stand: the Krenov original sits on a closed base that neither Robert nor I ever really liked on my piece when we mocked it up: it worked on Krenovs, but on this piece something was missing. So, we started to play around with the possibility of feet. Suddenly the whole cabinet came to life; became light and graceful. This small change really pushed me through the last weeks.
Another change and addition to the program started around that time: the so called „quiet Saturdays“. As nice as the machines in the shop are, there is a special mood when they don‘t run. It is quiet, everyone is relaxed and at times you just hear the very personal rhythm of hand tools.
Every Saturday starts with a Lecture of Krenov, picked according to the weeks topic from a number of phonecalls Robert recorded when the school started.
This sets the mood for the day, and when the decision was made to have no machines on Saturdays, this mood could be kept through the day. It means to think ahead and plan accordingly, to be set up for handwork on the weekend. But these Saturdays were some of the most enjoyable days in the shop!
Because of the Doug Ives Scholarship, I was able to stay longer and complete another piece. I had my eye on another Krenov piece for awhile; a very different and quite unusual one. While it was still quite formal and clean, without many curves and lots of clean, crisp lines, it had a quite unusual open space on top of a biq, square corpus.
More and more I liked the idea of this little open space that is part of the piece while also being a part of the room the piece stands in. It is a transition zone, of some sort, that invites you to interact while passing by. A small stage; a place to put fresh flowers, a picture or (as someone jokingly suggested) an aquarium.
Robert agreed that I could stay on for this piece, and I was so grateful, because everything came full circle! I never had so much fun working on a piece; I felt confident, even while repairing the (inevitable) mistakes. There was solid wood to work with again, and the small but important little steps, like shaping the legs to their slight rounding, it all felt just right. There was some veneering again, but I also enjoyed that. All the joinery was 90°, what a treat!
The combination of wood in this piece made sense, they all go together so well. It could have been because I was just eying them over for such a long time, it could have been luck, but I know for sure that it also was Robert, whose eye for colours and memory of woods (and also just the sheer size of his wood collection) made it possible!
I finished gluing the pulls on the doors about 5 minutes before the machines were turned off on the last day. Back then, now, and I guess, for a long time this piece will be a favourite. I am glad to have it around: for its presence, for its colours, and as a reminder of what I am capable of and how it can feel. The cabinet is also a reminder of one of the happiest times of my life!
Thank you Robert, thank you Yvonne and thank you Caroline for this experience and everything you taught me! I am about to set up my workshop again; this will happen because of you!
Along with Sam Maloof, George Nakashima and a few others, James Krenov introduced America to the idea of the artist-woodworker. His books inspired a generation to approach wood furniture in a profound and organic way, and the cabinetmaking program he founded in northern California has turned out some of the most masterful makers worldwide. A couple weeks ago I traveled on assignment to a school northwest of Vancouver, where one of Krenov’s most talented and devoted disciples is carrying the legacy forward in an incredible way.
As Krenov was winding down his career at College of the Redwoods, he was being discovered by maybe his most faithful follower. Robert Van Norman, who was teaching shop class to at-risk kids in Saskatchewan, had read “A Cabinetmaker’s Notebook,” Krenov’s first and most influential book, and like many was inspired to follow a similar path. He took a chance and called the iconic Swedish-American educator out of the blue.
Known to be alternately crusty and warm, Krenov was nothing but encouraging to Van Norman and they struck up a friendship, talking often as the younger man left teaching and began working with a German cabinetmaker.
But the work was commercial and unfulfilling, off the pure path Krenov had described, so Robert left to make original work. He did commercial cabinetry jobs at first, but soon found that his spec pieces were beginning to sell, like this beautiful double rocker.
Van Norman lived in a series of homes and shops as he built a name for himself, while his ever-supportive wife Yvonne ran a home-cleaning business and helped raise their young family.
Where the story gets really amazing is when Robert fell one day on the ice and permanently injured his back and legs (he recovered but has chronic pain). Looking for answers he re-read the foreword to “A Cabinetmaker’s Notebook,” in which Krenov mused about one day turning to teaching, when he was too old for “hoisting big planks” and other rigors of full-time furniture making.
Van Norman decided to visit Krenov at College of the Redwoods, to finally meet him in person after 12 years of phone conversations. At the school, Robert and Jim hatched a novel plan. Already an incredible craftsman, Van Norman would attend the school for just one year instead of the usual two, with the intent of becoming a teacher in the master’s mold. It took a tremendous family effort for Van Norman to attend CR, but he did it, and halfway through his year, they were already giving him CR students to teach.
When Van Norman got back to Canada, he took a few unfulfilling teaching positions , eventually ending up at Rosewood Studio near Ottawa, as the school’s “resident craftsman.” His wife and kids made the move too.
The school was a good one, but still not deep-dive program Van Norman was imagining, and he knew the only solution was to start his own. At the same time, Krenov was aging and being forced into retirement, and the cabinetmaking program he started at CR was changing direction slowly. He was captivated by Van Norman’s venture. In fact, Krenov donated every one of his machines, tools, and workbenches to Van Norman’s school, as well as his entire archive of slides and photos, many never before seen.
In Robert Van Norman’s own shop, he has many of Krenov’s own machines, his workbenches, and his entire archive of slides and photos.
In Krenov’s words:
“It makes me happy that this small school intends to return to the traditional. To the values and no gadgets methods which have nourished our craft for a very long time. Dedication, a simple logic in what we do and how we do it. For some, there is a lure; mysteriously elusive wood, tools that follow one’s intention, an awareness that our craft is an intimately timeless education. If you feel even a bit of this… persevere. Enjoy. The journey may change your life.”
What is just as beautiful is the place the Van Normans chose for the school. Northwest of Vancouver, B.C., in a remote section of coastline only accessible by ferry, they found the little town of Robert’s Creek, perched along the Inside Passage, Canada’s vast coastal waterway.
There he and Yvonne bought a little homestead, adding a big mortgage to help build the school. In 2005 their perfect little building opened its doors with a beautiful bench room and nicely outfitted machine room, everything they needed to educate 10-12 students at a time. They have been full from the beginning, drawing students from 37 countries, most inspired by the same books that captivated Van Norman so many years ago.
The story gets even more touching then. Krenov was much older now, losing his eyesight and realizing he would have to stop making cabinets. So Robert asked him to give weekly lectures to the students, over a speaker phone. He gave 300 hours of one-hour lectures to the students at Inside Passage, an hour a week, and they were legendary, ranging from the how to the why.
When Jim died in 2009, Robert was devastated, and couldn’t bear to hear Jim’s voice for a couple years. Then he started using the lectures again, in a beautiful way.
On Friday mornings at the school, Van Norman gives the floor back to Krenov, combining snippets of the lectures with photos of Krenov’s work and a short Q&A. It is every student’s favorite part of the week.
Students gather every Friday morning for a dose of inspiration and advice from the master himself.
It hasn’t been easy for Robert and Yvonne, but their little school is the embodiment of Krenov’s philosophy and techniques, with Robert’s gentle manner and innovative ideas taking Krenov’s pure path ever higher.
For the whole story, and a lot more pictures, see my upcoming article in Popular Woodworking magazine, and go to the school’s excellent website.
