The Dragon's Cache: Kilburn

Showing posts with label Kilburn. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

The Legacy of the Mouseman

An Oak cross, and other important items.

According to James Herriot’s Yorkshire, Robert Thompson was working as a wheelwright when Father Nevill commissioned him to make a cross, along with a few other items. The Priest was so taken by what the man delivered that he advised him to specialize in Oak furniture. While the famous woodworker’s history may be more involved that Herriot suggests, this commission proved influential for young Robert, and it appears that he held great store by Father Nevill’s opinion.

In order to distinguish his work, he drew inspiration from the saying, “Poor as a church mouse.” In time, most of what he made would not leave his shop until his unique trademark, a mouse, was carved somewhere in the finished product. While the Mouseman himself has passed away, his descendants carry on this tradition. No, you cannot buy just a carving of a mouse, but one can find a mouse on most of the larger items in the showroom. Nor are all mice the same. According to www.mousemanfurniture.com each item is personally overseen from beginning to end by one craftsman, who carves his own unique style of mouse into everything he makes.

An older mouse found in St. Mary's Church in Thirsk.

We spotted our first mouse in St. Mary’s Church in Thirsk, but they positively ran riot in Ampleforth Abbey, a nearby Benedictine monastery. There's good reason for this. While Herriot records Father Nevill as the local Parish Priest (presumably of Kilburn), Wikipedia and other sources name him as the Headmaster of the abbey’s college. Might he have served in both capacities? In any case, it seems that Robert Thompson never forgot the importance of the commission that got him started as the famous woodworker of Kilburn. His little mouse has scurried into homes all over the world, and into churches all over Yorkshire. Isn’t it ironic that the man chose one of the most diminutive animals for his trademark? I wonder what it says about how Robert Thompson viewed himself, as well as how we ought best to see ourselves.

A Benedictine mouse in the visitor center
of Ampleforth Abbey.

I’m not sure how English churches can afford the firm’s prices, but the workshop’s furniture is certainly built to last. For congregations that can trace their church's existence back not just hundreds of years, but in some cases over a thousand, perhaps they take the long view when investing in pews and other furnishings. Considering the firm's heritage, maybe Robert Thompson’s Craftsmen Ltd offers a clerical or church discount. I wonder how they would respond to a commission from Father Dave, the Rector (and blogging Bishop) of St. Dragon’s Parish in San Diego?

Just mousing around,

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries

James Herriot’s Controversial Church

On the James Herriot Furniture Trail

The Famous Woodworker of Kilburn

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

The Famous Woodworker of Kilburn

The modern workshop in Kilburn

In James Herriot’s Yorkshire, we learn of the first time the famous veterinarian of Thirsk met the equally famous woodworker of Kilburn. Robert Thompson brought his dog to Skeldale House for a consultation, and Helen showed him into their dining room. When James entered, he found the man gazing at their sideboard of French fumed oak, a piece of furniture from Helen’s side of the family. Robert Thompson “bent and stroked the wood reverently. ‘Beautiful, beautiful,’ he murmured, the gentle, white-mustached face illumined by the great passion of his life: oak.”

Herriot’s work often took him through Kilburn, and he must have visited Thompson’s shop regularly. He and Helen fell in love with the man’s signature style and started a “Thompson box.” They purchased a coffee table. Then Fate stepped in, and their “Thompson box” became a “Baby box.” Later, after his children grew up, and especially after the royalties from his books flooded in, the couple were able to purchase all the furniture they wanted.

I wasn't surprised by the router, but the tank top and shorts threw me.
Then again, it was warm that day in June.
Imagine that: a warm Summer day in England!

Robert Thompson passed away in 1955, but his family continues on with his work. Stacks of long, thick Oak planks tower above visitors outside the showroom and gift shop. These wood planks can take up to four years to dry out, as the staff opt to not force the moisture from the wood via some mechanical process. While Robert Thompson worked with hand tools, today’s employees aren’t afraid to mix traditional methods with modern power tools. The wood is still fumed with ammonia instead of stained, and tabletops bear a wavy, honeycomb pattern from the adze.

As a woodworker, I can appreciate the quality of construction, as well as the artistry of each piece in the showroom. The Arts and Crafts style is popular and functional, and each piece gleamed, reflecting the overhead and natural lighting. I’m not wild about the fuming process, as it necessitates that a piece be waxed regularly in order to retain its health and beauty. I’ve restored several pieces of furniture, and even built a quilt rack, yet I never get around to performing maintenance. Still, that’s a minor quibble: when and if I get back into woodworking, I’ll have to decide how to finish what I make. As with everything in life, there are no perfect solutions. Everything is a tradeoff.

"Beautiful, beautiful."
"Hey, you there! Stop that drooling!"

I don’t think we’ll be buying furniture from Robert Thompson’s Craftsmen Ltd anytime soon. Remember that fumed sideboard that the woodworker drooled over in James Herriot’s dining room? The firm sells their own beautiful sideboards for a little over five thousand pounds after tax. After adding in the cost of shipping halfway around the world, and a sixty-percent increase for the exchange rate to dollars, I don’t think we can afford one right now.

And no, we haven’t started a “Baby box,” thank you very much!

Still appreciating fine furniture,

Dragon Dave

Monday, June 18, 2012

On the James Herriot Furniture Trail

"Uh, James, could you pass the Sports section?"

Until a few years ago, when circumstances forced me to give it up, I was an avid woodworker. I even worked on my own chair, sweating blood (and yes, occasionally shedding it) over mortise-and-tenon joints, and cutting the precise widths and lengths necessary for each individual piece of the structure. I’ve yet to finish that chair, but the process of building it gave me a real appreciation for craftsmen who design and make their own furniture.

While the characters and stories in the TV show “All Creatures Great and Small” prompted me to buy the series on DVD, one thing that caught my eye during repeat viewings was the sideboard in the great room. I’m not well versed in styles and periods, but the lines of that particular piece of furniture captivated me. You never get a really good view of it--the camera’s focus is quite rightly on the actors, and the dining table and chairs huddle nearby—yet to me it possesses a beauty and character I’ve never seen before.

Two nice sideboards, but not what I'm after.

In touring The World of James Herriot, one of the first rooms you see is the great room where Siegfried, Tristan, James, Helen, and later, the Herriot children, would have eaten meals, met with visitors, and relaxed. Two sideboards hug one wall of the room. While they possess their own individual character and beauty, neither was the one seen in the show. Perhaps these ones were the real ones James and the others used, or they may be typical period furniture that the museum acquired. At any rate, they weren’t the piece that I wanted to see.

Could this be the one?

In the studio mockup, I entered the dining room set with high expectations. Yet the sideboard there seemed wrong: the wood too dark, and the lines different. In looking at the photograph now, I wonder: might this be the piece used in the TV show? Somehow, in the picture, it reminds me of the image in my mind that I had sought. Perhaps it was. If there was one truth that the studio area reinforced, it is how different people and things look on film. (If you don’t believe me, have a photo taken of yourself, then compare it to what you see in the mirror). At any rate, no card or sign listed details about the sideboard as to maker, style, or the type of wood used. One thing’s for sure: it certainly didn’t bear the signature style of Robert Thompson, the famous Mouseman of Kilburn. But more on that in tomorrow’s post.

If anyone recognizes the style of the studio sideboard, please let me know. In lieu of answers, the search continues.

Captivated by beautiful furniture,

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries

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Sunday, June 17, 2012

Tattoos both Small and Large

Definitely a Tattoo of the Large Variety.

In Van’s Halen’s song “Tattoo,” David Lee Roth muses on what the marks we put on our bodies mean to us. He mentions some examples, from the whimsical (Elvis, a hula girl, dragons), to the more concrete (the symbol or number of a particular branch of the military one served in). He wonders, “Why is the crazy stuff we’d never say, poetry in ink?”

In Kushiel’s Dart, author Jacqueline Carey hypothesizes a world populated by the Biblical Nephilim, descendants of both humans and angels. Phedre is a young woman who was sold into slavery as a child. She eventually is trained as a servant of Naamah, which incorporates such diverse roles as courtesan, scholar, and spy. In order to win her freedom, she must save up whatever portion of the money she earns that her master allows her to keep. She uses this to fund work on a large and complex tattoo. When the completed pattern has been inscribed upon her body, she will have won her freedom.

For those who get tattoos, their bodies may serve as a metaphor for how they wish to make their mark upon the world. Most of us confine such energies to success in our given careers, raising a family, building a fortune, or climbing the greasy pole of power. Some choose to make their mark upon the world in a more literal way, by making or funding statues, or having their names grace important civic structures. Twenty years ago, the artists Christo and his wife Jeanne-Claude made us see the California Grapevine differently, covered with yellow umbrellas. Those umbrellas have long been gone, yet everytime we drive through the Grapevine, I remember how they transformed the landscape.

Then there are those whose physical and artistic imprint upon our world is more lasting, such as Thomas Taylor and school master John Hodgson, who in 1857 led a team of students and volunteers to fashion the Kilburn Horse.

I cannot imagine the daring of those who created the huge white horse on the hillside, nor the time and effort involved in fashioning it. But according to Alf Wight in James Herriot’s Yorkshire, the village celebrated its completion with two roasted bullocks and more than a hundred gallons of beer. The giant horse certainly put Kilburn on the map, and I suspect that’s reason enough for the town to have retained it.

I’m not sure whether I really like the Kilburn Horse any more than I like the idea of inscribing a tattoo on my skin. On the one hand, the Kilburn Horse seems an unnecessary blemish upon an otherwise beautiful hillside. Then again, someday I’d like to visit two distinctive locales in South Dakota. Most visit Mount Rushmore simply to view the faces of the four American presidents chiseled into the mountain. I’d like to visit not only for that reason, but also because of the dramatic final chase scene set there in Alfred Hitchcock’s film “North by Northwest.” I’d also like to visit the Crazy Horse Memorial, a monument still being carved out of Thunder Head Mountain. If it’s ever completed, it will become the world’s largest statue. Every time I think of it, a chill ripples along my spine: not because of the image being carved, but because Logan’s climactic fight with his friend Francis takes place there in the Science Fiction novel Logan’s Run, written by William F. Nolan and George Clayton Johnson.

Who's going to make a saddle for this guy?

So perhaps such lasting imprints serve an important purpose. For some, Elvis, Hula Girls, and Regimental Symbols may epitomize what’s most important in life. Maybe the people of Kilburn wish to constantly remind themselves of how vital the horse was to the life and health of their village in earlier times. Ultimately, it’s not up to me to decide the “rightness” or “wrongness” of how others mark their bodies or their patch of the world. It’s my job to appreciate those people for who they are, what they do, and the tremendous diversity they add to our world.

(Hopefully) Making my mark on the world,

Dragon Dave

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