The Diary of an Antiquary, Part 4

Let's bring this piece to a close with this last epic posting. The enclosure more or less finished, I measured out the interior space to come up with the dimensions of the book (this ass-end-up retrofitting is just my style!).

I settled on this gorgeous leather cover from 1852 as my raw material for the final covers.


It was exciting to see the empty space occupied at last, if even for a moment.


Beginning the long process of cutting out the book pages in heavy gauge brass.


The raw elements stacked up, giving me a general feel for the proportions.


Each 'page' would consist of two plates of brass, riveted together, with elements trapped in the sandwich. Above, my three pages and covers.


Because of the substantial weight of these plates, I knew they would have to be pierced quite a lot to eliminate all that metal. The designs are loosely based on medieval iron grillework.


The six sheets taped together, forming 1/2 inch of solid brass. The holes for my sewing stations would have to be drilled through all at once.


The first page takes rough shape - the early part of twelve hours of very difficult sawing.


With throbbing hands, I examine the cut sheets of brass.


Couldn't resist making an ice-cream sandwich of it to see what it looked like, as I knew it wouldn't be so transparent once the elements came together.


A cacophony of grilles.


Now each sheet was shaped.


Page one, getting close. The three pages took three days to complete the metalworking.


Now for the really fun part of creating the visuals behind the metal. Sheets of mica would keep the pieces in check under the grilles. Here, Mrs. Col. Wm. Douglas lends her face to the cause.




An 18th-century engraving takes center on the other side.




The elements taking their places.


The smallest rivets I've ever made. Chalk up another first.


Carving space into the front cover for a pearl.


The window would allow Mrs. Douglas to peer through when the book was closed.


Page three metalwork.


Mica measured and cut to size.


On to the binding. For this stage I have Keith Smith to thank, for his excellent book 'Smith's Sewing Single Sheets', which was my manual for this part. I built this frame to hold the raised cords of the binding upright for easier sewing. The frame is about half the size Smith laid out - plenty of size for a miniature book, however!


Ready to sew the bottom page on.


Second page gets added...


The book block ready for some covers.


This part was seriously daunting. The cords are 7 strands each of heavy antique linen, as I wanted a chunky profile for the spine.


The cord unwound and poking through the cover - now each strand needed to be frayed to lay flat against the inside cover for gluing...


...like so.


The back cover with frayed threads ready to be glued in place and covered with end paper.


The front cover was even more difficult due to the window. Note the recessions cut in to allow the thread to lay flush on the board.


Exsquisite end paper from the 1860's to paper over the thread.


The book needed a closure, so I fiddled about until I came up with the solution. I would use this old fork, dug up in England as my material.


Brittle and fracturing even after annealing, but it held strong - I even liked the cracks, so away we went.


Part of the business end would be used as well.


Before soldering together.


Terrifying task #4,360: putting a large hole into a finished book, to create a strong metal tube that would allow the mechanism to move without damaging the fragile book board.


As the book, now completed, got attached permanently to the enclosure via a long chain, I needed to scoop out recesses in the box to accomodate the protruding clasp.


Last step was creating a visual interior for when the book was removed from the housing. The gem for this job was the left-hand side of this awe-inspiring page of illuminated manuscript from the 1500's. It was given to me along with some others by a generous student (is that Ukrainian, I seem to remember? Anyone?). It seemed a fitting treasure see when the box was open.

Thanks for walking with me through this important piece in my output as a maker. This post is a week later than I thought, as it took an entire week to photograph the finished piece.

Which you can see here.

Hope you've enjoyed the ride - I know I have.

The Diary of an Antiquary, Part 3

Welcome back. This third post in the in-progress series of the making of The Diary of an Antiquary begins with the construction of the chain structure for the hinged box, that by this point I had decided would house a handmade book. My plan was to make it worn very low, at or below the waist, to recall the girdle books from centuries back, albeit in a very different form. Although at this stage the book had yet to be made (I'd cross THAT bridge...) I did envision that the book would be removeable from the box, but chained to it, and so married to the holding structure.

In imagining the chain for this piece, I began to mull over different materials than I was used to working with for this purpose. I'm not sure what got me thinking about wood, but soon I was readying to try whittling a 'whimsy' - the age-old practice of carving shapes in wood that was often mastered by sailors on their long voyages. I have a few antique examples - both are cages that contain balls that move inside them, carved from a single piece of wood. So I began by choosing a length of wood that would lay over the shoulder and neck (I wanted the piece to be worn not like a necklace but over the shoulder like a handbag). This first group of images shows the links being created from a strip of maple. I didn't photograph the wood before I began cutting, but it was a rectangular block that I then rabbeted out along its length as shown.






The links are now roughed out in size.




Removing wood from the interiors of the links.


A big moment is when the first link comes free...


...and can be shaped.


Working along the length, shaping them as I go.


The links ready to be painted.




A short video of the aftermath.


Painting the chain to harmonize with the box.


Next came another part of the chain - which would be straight bars, with decoration turned into them - to hang along the length. Here the brass segments have been hardened and textured and are ready to be sized and turned.


Cutting large steel jump-rings to use as the bulk of the chain.


The long links finished and ready to integrate with the steel chain.





Wood, brass and steel rubbing elbows.


Getting the length established, I snap myself in the mirror with the piece on.


Then I find a much more attractive model (in-house, of course!).






At this point it occurred to me that I would like to have the box mounted on a stand, so it could be elegantly displayed when not worn (because of the design thus far, it wasn't able to stand upright on its own).


As a base, I settled on an antique Indian candle-holder of cast brass and cut it apart.








One of the very few solder joins in this piece being prepared.


Fabricating little posts to protrude from the bottom of the box, to straddle the bar of the stand.


The posts installed on the box.


The stand completed (the horizontal bar is wrapped in 1920's linen thread, which I'll use much more of later).


Small 'claws' grip the posts on both sides of the box...


...and the posts, seen from the back here, keep the piece stable.


Now there were absolutely no more excuses for pushing the book until later - it was time to tackle it. The home was ready for its occupant.

So I plunged nose-down into Keith Smith's excellent book 'Smith's Sewing Single Sheets' and got my head together to try another first for me - fabricating and binding a book.

Stay tuned for the next and final post, which will see the piece to completion.

KL