This address was delivered to the East Tennessee Woodworker's Guild on January 12, 2009

Timber Framing:

The State of the Craft
by Bruce Gardner, Homestead Timber Frames

Personal history in timber framing
(Photos courtesy of Bruce and Cyndy Gardener, Homstead Timber Frames.)

I began my journey in timber framing with a book, a present from my wife Cyndy. In our mid-twenties we had built our first home together—a rather large, standard House of the Week affair. We learned, through this simple book, that there existed a better way to build and promised ourselves that our next home would be a timber frame. In our mid-thirties we bought a lovely farm in north Knox County, picked out a simple cape design for our new home, and began timber framing. A drafty barn alley served as our shop. Our tools were few. The joinery was elementary. But the work was challenging and over the course of that first Fall and Winter, we managed to build and raise our first timber frame. I shall never under estimate the power of a book. Here are some photographs of that first effort.

With that first bare frame standing, Mark and Susan rode down our country lane on bicycles. Curiosity brought them close for an inspection. “What’s this?” Mark asked. I, now the expert, replied that this was a timber frame. “We are building a home soon. This timber frame sure is pretty. How much does it cost?” I replied that I didn’t know and asked how much money he had. Mark told me and it seemed adequate so I built him a frame. Manzie called me from Kentucky and asked me to build him one. I did. Mike called from Massachusetts with a similar request. After raising Mike’s frame, Cyndy pointed out that it looked like we had a business—a classic ‘accidental start-up’. I agreed and we were off and running.
Early on we became active in the Timber Framers Guild, a new organization centered in New England. The Guild gave us access to shared experiences, mistakes, and techniques that would have taken us decades to discover on our own. We traded tales, miseries, math, and skills with other members. New shops sprang up across North America. Together we taught each other a craft whose teachers of an earlier time had passed away, silently taking their knowledge and skill with them.

I served on the Guild Board. Cyndy organized conferences and procured books from all over the world on timber framing. I laid timbers out, miss-cut timbers, taught joinery, raised timber frames, and went to sleep each night with the math problem du jour. In those early years I worked so much white oak that the waxy substance called tylosis coated my hands like a film of talcum that would not wash off.

I grew that first timber framing business to death and spent the next dozen years making a living, but never experiencing the joy that timber framing had brought me. Now I timber frame once more. I am in no hurry. My work and my appreciative clients propel me steadily along.

After building my first timber frame in 1985 I felt quite expert. By the third or fourth frame I had begun to feel there was much more to learn. Now after a couple hundred projects I am near completely intimidated by what I do not know. I am thirsty for the knowledge possessed by the guild trained craftsmen of the 15th Century. To understand how it came to be that a centuries-old craft like timber framing fell from common practice, it is instructive to look at the history of the craft.

History of timber framing

Historians tell us that man emerged from caves and burrows in the Neolithic period, starting around 10,000 B.C. Stone tools gave way to tools of iron, allowing wood to be cut, split, and crudely shaped. By 200 B.C. simple joints were being fashioned and employed in structures we could loosely define as timber frames. The emergence of timber framing followed separate but parallel paths in Japan, in Europe, and in India. By late 600 A.D. the Japanese were building timber frame structures such as the Golden Hall and the Pagoda, both of which still stand today. In Europe, by 1200 A.D., great cathedrals and spires were being built, fashioned with relatively short timbers scarfed and spliced together. The use of short timbers was made necessary because the Europeans had cut most of their tall trees and reserved the balance for military purposes like building masts for great sailing ships. Guilds were formed to pass on and perfect knowledge of the craft. Each generation of craftsmen could stand upon the accomplishments of his elder to develop his craft ever further. (Woodblock print by Hans Schauffelein, c. 1515.) Standards for craftsmanship were developed and rigorously adhered to. A joiner passed through degrees of demonstrated ability on his way to becoming a master. And as a master, the craftsman had the right to practice his craft independently and the obligation to teach his craft to others.

Below are a few photographs of timber framed buildings in Japan, France, and England. In these photographs we can see what man can accomplish by hand, working together.

First, Japan . . .

Matsumoto Castle (ca. 1593)

Wooden structure in Nagano

Post detail

Shrine detail

Gate detail

Carpenter's workshop in Japanese Tech School.

(Photos courtesy of Timber Framers Guild, www.tfguild.org; By Diane Feddersohn, 2005.)

Traveling now to France…

View from Koenigsburg Castle

Market Hall in Piney

Piney Market Hall roof detail

Renovated Alsacian House

Cathedral miniature roof system on display


Church of St. Julien et St. Blaise in Longsols - France

Roof of church in Longsols

French dormer detail

(Photos courtesy of Timber Framers Guild, www.tfguild.org; By Will Beemer, 2003.)

To round out our journey we stop in England.

Merchant Adventurers Guildhall

Merchant Adventurers Strut details

Merchant Adventurers Guildhall truss system

Lych Gate

Interior of Milden Hall Barn

Exterior of Milden Hall Barn

Double Hammer beam roof system

Interior of Boxley Barn

Boxley Barn

(Lych Gate photo courtesy of Emma Poole, Exeter, UK; all other photos courtesy of Timber Framers Guild, www.tfguild.org; By Will Beemer, 2004.)

And now, America. By the early 1600’s on this continent excellent timber frames were being built. Our virgin forests gave us long timbers that allowed structures to be fashioned without the short-timber splices and scarfs. The first-generation craftsman, being Guild trained, made excellent use of these long timbers. We can yet see examples of this work in New England and along the Atlantic seaboard.

Abundant timber and communal labor produced churches and barns, and homes, some of which still survive. Many more have been lost to the ravages of time and neglect, their builders forgotten. No wooden structure long survives once the roof is blown off.

The oldest surviving timber frame home in America is the Fairbanks House, built in 1637 in Dedham, Massachusetts. Wings have been added through the centuries and it is now a museum, but still owned by the Fairbanks family.

(Photo courtesy of Historic American Building’s Survey.)

A Depression Era project called the Historic American Buildings Survey documented many significant timber structures. Churches and barns played an important role in sustaining timber frame construction, requiring large timbers for long spans and lots of people for heavy lifting. No self-respecting farmer would build his home larger than his barn, and many of the barns were huge. This sentiment held into the 1950’s as evidenced by a New England farmer. The tale is told that only after the farmer had upgraded his milking parlor with hot water did he finally add running water to his home.

Let’s look at some of these American timber frames from an earlier time.

(Photo courtesy of Historic American Building’s Survey.)
(Photo courtesy of Historic American Building’s Survey.)
(Photos by Ken Rower) (Photos courtesy of Bruce and Cyndy Gardener, Homstead Timber Frames.)

Why did timber framing fade into disuse? Americans are in a hurry. We were in a hurry in 1630, in 1850, and we are still in a hurry in 2009. The guild system of training, that of slowly and patiently passing accumulated knowledge along, runs at cross-purposes to capitalism. In America, why should a young man apprentice himself to a master for a period of years with meager pay when land was his for the settling? Each succeeding generation of American craftsmen received ever less formal training and so built ever simpler buildings. The country came to call for the generalist rather than the specialist. One day a man might build a cupboard and the next day sow his wheat. America was becoming a mobile society and so a home was no longer built for one’s great-grandchildren, but merely to house the current occupants. Technology gave us sawmills, dimensioned lumber, long distance shipping, cheap nails, balloon framing, and now stud-wall framing. Today we sign a 30 year mortgage to lower our monthly payment, but know the corporation will move us in 5 to 7 years. What use do we have for a home that can live into the next new millennium? I will answer that question a little later this evening. But let’s first explore how a timber frame project develops.

Development of a Timber Framed Project

Timber frame projects begin with a phone call. The conversation usually goes like this: “I am planning to build soon and I have been looking at your website. I would like to ask you a couple of questions.” We answer questions and ask questions of our own such as, “When do you plan to build? What size home are you building? Where is your building site?” There typically follows more phone calls and e-mails back and forth. The client visits with us and we visit the site. Everyone decides that the building budget is adequate and that we are capable of producing the work. It’s time to get down to business.

All families who plan to build a home have a shoe box. And in that shoe box resides clippings and photographs of things the family wants in a new home. The contents of that shoe box are different for each family. The trick is to combine a bunch of not always compatible things into the home the family wants. These “things” include: space requirements and relationships to each other, the demands of the building site, the architectural style, the timber frame design complete with structural demands and joinery techniques required, utilities, the budget, and the contents of the shoe box. We fit all these elements together, make compromises and suggestions, and produce the first preliminary drawings. These drawings are shared with the family for consideration and critique. We make requested changes and provide pricing along the way. It is never a good idea to design without the client having an inkling of what things cost. The process is not well served if the client requires oxygen after receiving a price late in the game. Here are samples from a current project.

(Graphics courtesy of Courtesy of Homestead Timberframes, By Allen Stoker.)
There are numerous ways to timber frame a particular space. Here are examples of different timber arrangements for the same house.

(Photos from Benson, Ted. Timberframe Home: Design, Construction and Finishing. Taunton Press: 1997. )
The exterior dimensions and shape are the same. The roof pitch is the same. The timber frame differs to complement the floor plan configuration, the traffic flow, the open-to-above areas desired, the site, and utility systems.
(Graphics courtesy of Courtesy of Homestead Timberframes, By Allen Stoker.)
Our next step in the process is to schedule the work through our shop. We do this by working backwards from the family’s move-in date. We help work out a realistic time line and remind that all things good are worth waiting for. With a move-in date set, we project when the timber frame would be delivered and raised. That date tells us when we should do our shop work and, earlier still, when the timber must be ordered. It is almost time to make chips fly.

Shop Joinery
(Photos below are courtesy of Bruce and Cyndy Gardener, Homstead Timber Frames.)
From completed shop drawings a timber cut list is compiled and the timbers are ordered from a local mill. A good timber order is a tricky thing. The mill must understand our requirements for each timber and so we spell out those requirements in writing. Timbers are ordered over-sized so that we have room to square and plane to dimension. Timbers must be structurally sound with no shake or rot and with minimum slope of grain. Waney edges should be few for appearance sake. Excessive crown, twist, and bow are not good. And the species must be given. I like white oak because it is strong, predictable, works and finishes very well, is local to us, and smells good.

Each timber in a timber frame has its own nomenclature and orientation in the frame. We bring like timbers into the shop and begin our work in a set progression—posts first, bent girts, rafters, braces, and so on. With the shop loaded, lay-out begins.

Timber lay-out starts by first labeling a timber. Labeling includes its nomenclature, outside faces, and any other reference faces. We label the bottom of timbers so that the timber stands in the completed frame as it grew in the forest. It is bad karma to place a tree upside down. We orient crowns up and bows out. Attention is paid to orient a timber so that beautiful faces show and ugly faces do not. With the timber labeled, all joinery is laid out. We use shop-built scribes to lay-out parallel with the grain and razor knives to lay-out across the grain. Each mortice, tenon, peg hole, angled cut, and decorative edge treatment is clearly marked. Tenon lengths and mortice depths are noted. We use a permanent sharpie to mark mortice depths within the mortice—the material that will be removed--and lumber crayons for any notes on a visible face that will be later finished. Once a timber is laid out, a different joiner checks the lay-out for accuracy, discrepancies are discussed, and needed changes are made. Only when the lay-out person and the checker agree can a timber be joined.

We attempt to lay-out and check a set of similar timbers before cutting begins. We have found that it is more efficient to pick up a power tool, set that tool to the depth required, and move through-out the shop performing similar tasks. For example, Kip may begin with a drill motor with a 1” bit and drill all 1” peg holes on all timbers. Adam might follow with the mortice machine (an electric chain saw with a thick bar mounted on a portable drill press affair) and rough out all mortices. I may follow behind with a 16” circular saw and make end cuts. This part of the process is noisy, but concentrated. By the time we put the power tools aside, most of the rough cuts have been made, the shop quiets down, and we can now concentrate on hand tool work. Here are some photographs of work progression. (Show a couple of photos of power tools and hand tools in use.)

I would like to discuss shop safety for a moment. We take safety very seriously. A dropped timber will break whatever it falls on. It takes only a careless moment to be badly cut. Chips flying from tools travel at a high rate of speed. Noise levels damage hearing permanently. And toxic wood finishes are just that—toxic. We talk openly and frequently about how a particular task can be accomplished safely. We wear ear plugs and safety glasses. We help each other move heavy timbers. We remove timber cut-offs to eliminate trip hazards. We only use a natural finish so benign I think you could use the stuff over your salad. And we adhere to the rule that if a task does not feel safe—don’t do it. We will talk it over and proceed only when everyone is comfortable. We have had no more that the occasional splinter and we intend to keep it that way.

Was there ever a finer tool than a chisel? We sharpen our chisels to 5000 grit on water stones and we touch them up frequently—about every hour. We work to our lay-out lines with slicks and chisels, guided by squares and jigs. We check everything for proper depth, length, and angle. We do not obsess over accuracy. We simply achieve accuracy. We do make mistakes—all of us do. When a mistake is made, we decide if we can patch without compromising appearance or strength. If we must replace a timber, we do so and move forward. We do not say that we do the very best work. We simply do the best work we are capable of doing.

Once we have completed the joinery for a section of the frame we trial fit that assembly. All the saw horses in the shop are exactly the same height and so by placing timber reference faces down, we can pull joints together. We check for dimensions across the assembly and diagonally, adjusting and paring when necessary. With the assembly pulled together with come-alongs and nylon straps, we use the peg holes earlier drilled in the side of mortices as a guide to drill tenons. With the trial fit completed and the holes drilled, we separate the timbers once again, add any carvings and edge treatments, and finish sand the timbers. We use an air compressor to blow chips from mortices and dust from surfaces. With the timber clean and sanded, we label timber ends with our marker and we coat all cut end grain with an end grain sealer to control checking. Labeling timber ends allows the timber to be identified later in a bunk of timbers. We apply a heavy, soaking coat of our finish. This finish is a combination of Tung oil, linseed oil, rosin, citrus terpenes, and beeswax. The finish is allowed to skim over—typically overnight—and we wipe the excess off before buffing with an auto buffer and lambs wool pad. Repeating this process (lay-out, joinery, trial fitting, and timber finishing) with each timber assembly in turn eventually brings us to the end of our shop work and we are ready to raise the frame.