About the service
A house tells you what it wants long before anyone draws a line. I come out with a tape and a notebook, measure every opening separately — width, height, the depth of the reveal, how far the log wall or the siding stands proud — and then we walk around the walls and talk: the pitch of the roof, the colour of the wall, the gate, what the neighbours' houses look like. A casing that misses the proportions of the facade reads like a sticker, however fine the carving on it is.
Then the drawing. I can lead the pattern from the local tradition — the motifs that were cut in these parts a hundred years ago, with their towels, sun rosettes, birds and running plant scrolls — or draw you an author's design that keeps the rhythm without repeating anyone else's work. After that comes the timber. Lime and aspen cut cleanly and hold a thin line, pine and larch stand up to weather better, oak is heavier and slower under the tool but lasts decades. Blanks are dried down to the moisture the finished piece will actually live at: wood put up wet keeps moving afterwards, and that movement shows in every joint.
Cutting is two techniques at once. Fretwork through the board gives the openwork silhouette; applied carving is laid on top in two or three layers and gives the pattern depth and shadow. The assembled set is always tried on the house before painting — adjusting is far easier while the wood is still bare. Only then does everything come down to be primed on all sides including the end grain, painted or oiled with exterior materials, and finally mounted.
What the work includes:
— a visit to measure every opening and a conversation about the style of the house;
— a full-size drawing: local tradition or an author's pattern;
— choice of species, drying and preparation of the blanks;
— fretwork of the openwork silhouette and applied relief carving;
— dry fitting on the wall and adjustment;
— mounting, priming, exterior paint or oil;
— renewal of old casings, with lost details carved back from a surviving sample;
— a set for the whole house: windows, door, gable, barge boards, corners.
What I say out loud before you order:
— outdoor wood lives exactly as long as it is renewed. The finish has to be redone every few years; skip it and the pattern goes dull, the paint lifts and the thin bridges of the fretwork crack — and then it is the carving that needs repair, not the paint;
— fasteners go in with a gap for the movement of the wood. A board breathes across its width all year round, and an overlay nailed home tears itself apart at the first shrinkage of the house, with the crack running across the pattern rather than along the joint;
— anything above head height, and anything set over an opening, is done from scaffolding and with a second person. I do not hang a casing over a doorway alone or off a ladder, and I plan the day around that.
Timing follows the season: carving goes on in the workshop in any weather, while painting and mounting wait for dry, warm days.
Then the drawing. I can lead the pattern from the local tradition — the motifs that were cut in these parts a hundred years ago, with their towels, sun rosettes, birds and running plant scrolls — or draw you an author's design that keeps the rhythm without repeating anyone else's work. After that comes the timber. Lime and aspen cut cleanly and hold a thin line, pine and larch stand up to weather better, oak is heavier and slower under the tool but lasts decades. Blanks are dried down to the moisture the finished piece will actually live at: wood put up wet keeps moving afterwards, and that movement shows in every joint.
Cutting is two techniques at once. Fretwork through the board gives the openwork silhouette; applied carving is laid on top in two or three layers and gives the pattern depth and shadow. The assembled set is always tried on the house before painting — adjusting is far easier while the wood is still bare. Only then does everything come down to be primed on all sides including the end grain, painted or oiled with exterior materials, and finally mounted.
What the work includes:
— a visit to measure every opening and a conversation about the style of the house;
— a full-size drawing: local tradition or an author's pattern;
— choice of species, drying and preparation of the blanks;
— fretwork of the openwork silhouette and applied relief carving;
— dry fitting on the wall and adjustment;
— mounting, priming, exterior paint or oil;
— renewal of old casings, with lost details carved back from a surviving sample;
— a set for the whole house: windows, door, gable, barge boards, corners.
What I say out loud before you order:
— outdoor wood lives exactly as long as it is renewed. The finish has to be redone every few years; skip it and the pattern goes dull, the paint lifts and the thin bridges of the fretwork crack — and then it is the carving that needs repair, not the paint;
— fasteners go in with a gap for the movement of the wood. A board breathes across its width all year round, and an overlay nailed home tears itself apart at the first shrinkage of the house, with the crack running across the pattern rather than along the joint;
— anything above head height, and anything set over an opening, is done from scaffolding and with a second person. I do not hang a casing over a doorway alone or off a ladder, and I plan the day around that.
Timing follows the season: carving goes on in the workshop in any weather, while painting and mounting wait for dry, warm days.
