melle_chantilly

 My great-uncle was a chair maker. He's long retired now. I remember seeing him work when I was little. He has a small workshop in the back of my grandmother's house. People from the village would bring old chairs to him. He would redo the straw seats and also make wood and straw chairs from scratch.

I remember that I didn't really dare watch him, even if I really longed to. He was like most men in the family, awkward and not the talkative type, and I felt shy.

The floor of his workshop was covered by a thick layer of wood shavings. I remember the smell of fresh straw and wood. He had so many tools, who looked all alike but had each a purpose of their own. I remember his brisk and precise movements to carve the wood, with a precision that made it look easy. I remember the soft noise of the tools hitting the wood, and the clinging sound from the bar of the vice being released.

There hasn't been many craftsmen in my recent family history. I remember the fascination I had for his work. I just have one picture of him.