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The 20th Century Masters — Five of the country’s best furnituremakers by Dan Weeks

We started with a question: Can furniture rivaling the finest antiques be found in the workshops of contemporary American artisans? We were looking for pieces that help tradition evolve, that express both a cultural heritage and a personal vision, that carry the highest standards of aesthetics and craftsmanship. We found them: stunning examples of fine furniture by anyone's measure.

And we found something more. In reviewing the work of dozens of woodworkers, and visiting the shops and homes of the five artisans whose diverse work appears here, we discovered that commissioning new work by today's masters is at least as satisfying as pursuing rarefied antiques. Here lies the chance for a relationship not only with a piece, but also with its maker; a chance to involve yourself with its conception, and to witness its creation.

Peter Maynard is a virtuoso in a broad range of traditional European styles-and the nuances of their regional American interpretations. His market is largely New York.

Yet he is above all a New England craftsman, a Yankee in manner and training, a disciple of a working philosophy that built some of the finest furniture we know. It is a small-shop, small-town ethic based on a closeness to nature and to one's clients, a self-sufficiency in seeing a piece through from standing tree to delivered goods, and the resulting sense that one person's creativity, commitment, and ingenuity matters.

"I grew up in Middletown, Connecticut, and apprenticed in a small furniture shop there. John Whitmore and his 75-year-old father, Chauncey, had been running their shop since 1919, and it still had one foot in the thirties.

"I swept the floors and watched the old guys work. The best part was deliveries, returning restored antiques to vintage houses. John knew Connecticut, and as he drove the truck, he'd bring the history and architecture of those little towns alive."

John would feel right at home in Peter's shop. Peter built it himself on an old foundation behind his farmhouse in the remote hills of western New Hampshire. Boards of native cherry and oak are drying underneath; machines salvaged and restored from old woodworking mills stand ready.

Peter attributes both his understanding of period furniture and the inspiration for his own designs to addressing the diverse tastes of his clients. "I'd work on a piece in a certain style, and I'd fall in love with it.

I'd read everything about that style I could find. Boston, Philadelphia, Newport, Charleston, New York—they all left their regional signature on period furniture. I feasted on that stuff, and that love of history all expressed itself on the drawing table and out in the workshop."

In his current work, boldly incised inlay and marquetry float crisp, neoclassical motifs on shimmering New England hardwoods. Original designs exhibit the kind of intuitively clean lines and elegant proportions that can come only from much study, care, and well-earned confidence.

"The latest influence that I want to integrate into my work is the pre-World War I European style," he says. "It was the last expression of old Europe and it is really classic stuff. Even though a lot of it came to America, it is still relatively undiscovered."

Peter's virtuosity and scholarship attracted the offer of a teaching position in furnituremaking from a major university recently. In some ways, it was tempting.

"Sometimes I feel like a Pakistani gunsmith in the Khyber Pass," Peter says with a wistful grin, gazing out the dusty window of his shop at the sweep of the ridge behind his house. "I'm covered with dust, doing everything by hand. You try to be reflective enough to be creative, and productive enough to make a living."

But Peter also knows that that mix of isolation, personal expression, and sensitivity to the marketplace is what created the regional styles he so admires. Amid the dust and the hills and the scent of drying wood, he is forging his own.

Abruptly, he suggests going for a ride. We climb into his station wagon. Peter's wife and business manager, Marcie, and their two young daughters come too. As we wind up steep grades past picturesque, 18th-century farmsteads, Peter narrates the history of this little valley. At the ridgetop, the view is panoramic: all New England seems beneath us. "This never has been an easy place to make a living," Peter says quietly, pointing out overgrown farms and old foundation sites. "But this is my New England up here; this is the place I've taken my stand. I'm going to stay

“There is a resonance to handmade stuff—where one person has stayed with the piece from beginning to end— that is unmistakable. I've based a 20-year career on that point of faith.” — Peter Maynard