Introduction:
Stairs are at once utilitarian and
beautiful. Building them and their railings is both the height of
the carpenter's craft and a mundane combination of basic carpentry
and seventh-grade math. Any trim carpenter, and most owner-builders,
already possess the basic woodworking tools and skills. And anybody
who can add, subtract, multiply, and divide, as well as sketch a
project on graph paper, has the necessary ciphering tools.
If you've read this far, most likely
you've got the tools and have completed seventh grade. What's left
is the question of inclination. Stairs require careful
craftsmanship, but they aren't art. They're craft. David Pye, in The
Art and Nature of Workmanship, defines workmanship of risk and
workmanship of certainty. Artists undertake workmanship of risk. If
Michelangelo twitched on his final chisel stroke, he might have
whacked David's nose clean off. Craftsmen rely on workmanship of
certainty. When it really counts, they use aids such as jigs to
make, for example, straight and square cuts. Stairbuilding is almost
all workmanship of certainty.
That said, stairs do separate the
carpenters from the hackers. Even the most rustic basement stairs
built from framing lumber must be sturdy and consistent in tread
(the parts you walk on) width and riser (the vertical space between
treads) height. When a carpenter builds a wall or a roof, he can be
off by a surprising amount--inches sometimes--and the homeowner
might never know. Stairs aren't like that. Discrepancies as small as
1⁄4 in. become at worst a trip hazard, and at best an annoyance.
Sound exacting? It is, but by employing tools of workmanship of
certainty such as a tablesaw and a rip fence, staying within such
tolerances barely merits a second thought.
Moving out of the basement and into the
foyer, stairs and their railings, or balustrades, can assume an
almost sculptural quality as the dominant element of a home's entry.
Formal stairs are as much like furniture as anything a carpenter
does. But furniture makers ply their craft on a bench in a shop
where perfection is possible. The stairbuilder's work must
seamlessly fit inside the usually imperfect world of homebuilding.
The furniture maker's fit and finish, which formal stairs seem to
demand, keep a lot of carpenters from even trying to build them.
Here's the thing, though--stairbuilding is just another way to apply
carpentry skills. Although I usually build some types of stairs in
the shop, that's out of convenience, not necessity. I've built every
type on-site as well.
Like any trade, stairbuilding can seem
impossibly complex. And when learning, one's own assumptions can get
in the way. Stairbuilding, more than any other aspect of carpentry
I've learned, requires an open mind and an occasional leap of faith.
I once had an apprentice who was stymied by the idea of running a
diagonal structure across the plumb and level world of homebuilding.
He just couldn't understand how to measure and plan that theoretical
line in space where the stringer would rise between two floors. It
rocked his world when I told him that I don't measure that diagonal.
I look at the vertical rise, and from that I figure the number and
height of the risers. I look at the horizontal distance the stair is
to traverse and figure the width and number of treads from that. It
took days before he got comfortable with the fact that what he'd
assumed for years as being a key to the mystery of stairbuilding was
incidental and largely an impediment to his learning.
In this book, I'll explain the basics of
stair geometry and planning so that you can build stairs to fit any
opening you encounter. You'll learn to build the most basic stairs
by notching framing lumber for the stringers and screwing down rough
treads. From there, it's a small leap to routing mortises in the
stringers and building stairs whose assembled parts look as if they
were cast in a mold.
The second part of this book is about
railings. In 1985, when I first started in stair work, railings
scared me. Much like my apprentice, that diagonal line through space
overwhelmed my thinking. In a way, though, railings are easier than
stairs. That rail should end up parallel to the existing stair, and
all you need to do for that to happen is set its posts the same
height off the stairs. And those curved parts that look as if they
grew off the end of the railing? They're off-the-shelf parts that
you join to the rail with a bolt. The secret to making them look
seamless is sandpaper and elbow grease.
If you can measure the distance between
two floors of a house and divide that number by 7 or 8, you can plan
out a set of stairs. If you're competent with a router and a
circular saw, you can cut a stringer. Can you read a level and
operate a drill and a miter saw? You can learn to install a railing.
You probably already possess most of the skills needed to build
stairs. What this book will do is fill in a few gaps and show you
how to apply some pretty basic carpentry in a way that can yield
stunning results.
Contents:
1. Basic Design and Construction
Cutting Out Basic Stairs
A Site-Built Stair
Using a Story Pole to Lay Out Stairs
Building an L-Shaped Stair
A Veteran Stairbuilders Tools and Tips
A Quick Way to Build a Squeak-Free Stair
2. Railings, Newels, and Trim
Hanging a Wall Railing
Building a Custom Box Newel
Building Finish Stairs
Building an Exterior Newel Post
Installing Stair Skirtboards
Making a Bullnose Starting Step
Making a Curved Handrail
A Balustrade of Branches
3. Curved Stairways
A Freestanding Spiral Stair
Capping a Curved Stair Wall
Framing Curved Stairs on Site
4. Special Stairways
Cantilevered Stairway
A Stair in the Air
Disappearing Attic Stairways
A Staircase of Glass and Maple
Credits
Index
Soft-cover, 8-1/2 x 10-7/8 in., 160 pages,
with color photos and drawings -
Published 2004
ISBN 978-1-56158-653-0
Building Stairs
For Pros By Pros
2004 Edition
|
|