The art of staining

If I didn’t have a deep appreciation for the art of staining before, I certainly do now. I realized in retrospect that everything I have stained before has been a singular type of wood which endured the same conditions as all the other pieces of wood. So once I figured out how to achieve the ideal color once, it was just a matter of taking that lesson and applying it (literally). There was trial and error- once. In this case, I soon realized that the way the wood reacted depended on a multitude of factors- how much I had sanded it, how orange the color was to begin with, possibly something to do with the heat gun, the amount of humidity in the air, the tilt of the earth on its axis and it’s subsequent distance from the sun, what I ate for breakfast that morning, and I think maybe, just maybe, the effect of someone sneezing halfway across the globe.

Thus, as you might imagine, every single piece of the wood I touched with the stain brush reacted differently. On the very first board I layered on the coats of stain, they barely absorbed. The darker parts of the grain soaked it up while the lighter parts maintained the color, which produced a rather beautiful contrast if not a little on the orange side. The shellac produced a high gloss finish, and I figured there it was- the combination for the rest of the wood: three coats of stain, two coats of shellac. The first piece of trim repeated this pattern, and I was quite happy with the results. The second piece however required only two coats of stain. I was somewhat expecting this because visibly the second piece looked a bit darker and less orange than the first. The third piece was the one that runs along the wall between the front door and the door to the dining room. This piece was in the worst shape with various dents, dings and gobs of paint wedged into the wood. So I heat gunned it, stripped it, stripped it again, scrubbed it with denatured alcohol and steel wool a few times, then sanded it, sanded it, and you guessed it- sanded it again. After realizing these efforts were getting me nowhere I thought what the heck- and I threw a coat of stain on it.

What makes the whole process even more difficult is that even with the stain you have a choice- you can leave it on anywhere from 5-15 minutes, and the length of time determines the depth and darkness of the final color. I left it on the typical 15 minutes, but when I went to wipe it off there was almost no excess. I stepped back and looked at the trim which I may as well have painted chocolate brown. The grain was gone, the color was flat, it absorbed rather unevenly so the tones were blotchy, and I wanted to cry. This was the end of the night (Friday) and although Clint did his best to cheer me up I was ready to throw in the towel (or more accurately the brush). I went to bed that night and woke up the next morning ruminating and trying to figure out the next step. I haven’t had much luck with sanding stain- no matter how fine the grit instead of bringing out the grain it brings out the scratches you’re making with the sandpaper. I was afraid to apply another coat of stain because I didn’t want it any darker, but I wanted to even out the color; plus all the other walls so far had three coats. Because it’s an oil based stain applying multiple coats produces a beautiful shimmer, and although it goes under shellac it may impact the final look (who knows-see above). I thought about trying to sand the whole thing down again back to the wood but at this point I was disgusted with the whole wall so I just threw on a coat of shellac, hoping the sheen would offset the unevenness. I sanded down that coat, focusing on the darker areas to try to level it all out when I thought I might have noticed something- the lighter areas of the grain showing through while the darker areas stayed dark. I called Clint in to witness the effect and tell me if I was just losing my mind (there are a lot of fumes in there) and he concurred- it was working! We fervently sanded down the whole wall to uncover the beautiful pattern made by the grain. By the time we were done and reapplied a second coat of shellac I liked that wall better than the others! Clint did a few rounds of the “I told you it'd all be ok” which I probably chased him around the house for, but in the end I was ecstatic.

This trial and error has continued on nearly every piece of wood and it creates a unique a cycle of frustration, disappointment, anger at the trim/stain/shellac/sandpaper, and hopefulness. Sometimes it ends in joy, sometimes I feel like I can live with it and that is enough. We decided at one point that it’s the overall look of the wood, not each individual piece of wood that people will look at. None of it is perfect, and in fact if you examine any singular piece you can see a multitude of flaws. But if you stand back and take in the whole room you see a beautiful montage of wood that has been around for a hundred years, that has endured who knows how many families in the house and that has been hidden and maybe even protected under numerous layers of paint. I like to think while I’m working on it about who installed it, if they had the same dreams and hopes about their house that we do and that took pride in their own handiwork. Someone, at some point really cared for this wood- even though it’s been painted a multitude of times nearly every nail hole was filled with plaster (we’re talking about hundreds of holes). It’s at this point, at the end of the night when I step back and take it all in, that I fall in love with the place just a little bit more. I took some pictures yesterday that show the progress and the mess in which I’m working in- I’ll get them up tonight so you can all ooh and ahh.