Gerard Cox

A year ago, I came across a fake lowboy: four 18th c. drawers in a carcass with reused wood held together with dowels and pieced-out legs (see attachment 1). I walked away, but then I thought that rebuilding it more appropriately would see me through Ithaca's dreary winter. I completed it last September, 2024 (see attachment 2).

 

Given that the four drawers were made by someone else a good 250 years ago may make me ineligible for this contest. But I rather doubt that any other contestant was more influenced by Phillip Lowe than I was. I kept three of his articles on my bench, referring to them constantly: "Cabriole Legs: Hand-shaped without a Lathe," FWW, 1983; "Build in the Right Order," FWW, 2010; and "The High Art of the Lowboy," FWW, 2008. I have not reproduced his lowboy, but I could not be more indebted to him for methods of work.

 

Museum catalogs of Boston and Salem mid-18th c. dressing tables gave me a range of possible dimensions. Within that range, I came down on what looked right to me (H 31 1/2"; W 21"; L 36"). I increased the height of the fake lowboy"s cabriole legs and enlarged its top for a 3" overhang on each side (see attachment 3). The legs are sapele. The top and sides came from a wrecked, Hepplewhite period table I'd salvaged. The back is white pine; the runners and kickers are poplar.

 

Except for roughing oput the legs with a bandsaw, I relied on hand tools. I used hide glue throughout and pegged the tenons. For finishing, I applied a dark red mahogany aniline dye and then a coat of alkanet oil. That was followed by at least 15 coats of Tried & True Varnish Oil. The brasses of the fake lowboy were stamped; I replaced them with cast Londonderry brasses.

 

The final step was signing my name and date with a permanent marker in the interior. In submitting this piece, I am keenly aware of the many mistakes I made. A "Best" piece should have a kind of presence. If my dressing table has captured any of that quality, it testifies to the enduring legacy of Philip C. Lowe.