“If there were a contest for the luckiest woodworker on the planet” he says, “I don’t know if I’d win – but I think I’d be one of the finalists.”

Today, he works alone in a comfortably cluttered but remarkably well-equipped shop located near the ultimate bungalows built by the Greenes in Pasadena, Calif. In the 1970s, Ipekjian was working as a model maker in the aerospace industry, and building projects from Popular Mechanics out of plywood in his garage. Bitten by the woodworking bug, he wondered if he could possibly make a living working with wood. A commission for an 18th-century highboy, as well as dissatisfaction with his job, led him to give it a try.

Working first in his garage, and later in a rented storefront, Ipekjian did all the work that came his way: kitchen cabinets, remodeling jobs and the occasional antique repair. His story isn’t that different from a lot of woodworkers – except that some of the remodeling and repair work was on original Greene and Greene houses and furniture. Ipekjian had the drive to get the details exactly right, and the quality and range of his work since then has attracted attention worldwide.

In the early 1980s, Ipekjian purchased property to build a 3,000-square-foot shop. Inflation and rising interest rates kept him from building for a few years, but eventually he built the shop he works in today. He moved out for a few years to a larger shop full of old machinery, but came back to his original location three years ago when the city needed his property. For the last 13 years, Ipekjian has worked almost exclusively on reproducing the work that Peter and John Hall originally made for Greene and Greene.

Some of the vintage, industrial-size machinery made the return trip to his current shop, including an Oliver sliding table saw, one of the widest jointers I’ve ever seen, and an ancient yet efficient mortiser. In a small room at the back of the shop is a fully equipped machine shop. This remnant from Ipekjian’s days as a model maker allows him to fabricate metal parts and hardware when he needs to.

Just inside the front door sit reproductions of two different Greene and Greene chairs, and the Gamble house’s entry table. “That’s my showroom,” says the soft-spoken craftsman. “Nothing fancy; I think the work speaks for itself.” I spent two days looking at original pieces by Greene and Greene before visiting Ipekjian’s shop; to say I was impressed would be a serious understatement. Except for a lack of aged patina, his reproductions were the equal of the originals down to the smallest detail.

As Ipekjian explains the details of how a drawer was made, his enthusiasm and knowledge of his work become apparent. He actually has more years of experience working on this furniture than the original makers did. The pieces he has reconstructed range from tiny jewel-like inlays and intricate light fi xtures to the timber-framed pergola of the Blacker house in Pasadena, Calif.

Ipekjian is self-taught. His earlier career gave him the ability to work precisely, and helped him to develop excellent problemsolving skills. “I enjoy the challenge of fi guring it out,” he says, “and I’m not afraid to try things I haven’t done before.”

Ipekjian has spent so much time working with original pieces and drawings that he has become adept at interpreting the original drawings of Charles Greene. Pointing to one drawing he remarks, “That’s his representation of a cloud; you can see it in other pieces.”

On the day of my visit, Ipekjian was working on a custom table that had been drawn by Greene, but never constructed. Working from a copy of an original sketch, he was carving details in the legs. “I’m not very good at predicting how long it will take to do something. For this table, I fi gured the four legs would take a day, but it’s taking me a day to do each one. This isn’t production work; each piece is a little different,” he explains.

When the Blacker house was built, there was a music cabinet in the living room that the current owners wanted reproduced. Original drawings existed, but didn’t show the details of the exteriors of the upper doors – and the whereabouts of the original was unknown. Ipekjian made his best guess, and constructed the piece. “Unfortunately,” he says matter-offactly, “a photo of the original surfaced shortly after I had this completed, and my guess was wrong. So I get to make a new pair of doors.”

Getting the details exactly right has been a key element to his success, and the original pieces contained an incredible amount of intricate details that aren’t readily apparent. “There’s a subtlety to this furniture that you really can’t get unless you’ve seen a lot of it up close,” Ipekjian says.

His curiosity goes well beyond solving technical problems. Discussing the mechanism of a drop-front desk, Ipekjian questions where the details came from: “Did the customer ask for this, or even notice it? It could have come from the guy who made it, or Henry (Greene) may have had it all drawn out.”

Ipekjian can’t keep from talking about the details – how something is put together, what lies behind the detail, and what that detail does for the entire piece. He likely knows more about the details and construction of this furniture than anyone. Describing the techniques of Peter and John Hall, the craftsmen who built the originals, Ipekjian says, “The Halls didn’t do anything the quick and easy way, but I think they were having fun, seeing what they could do.”

Ipekjian’s skill and attention to detail have brought him to a place that most woodworkers only dream about. He works in a pleasant space, at a comfortable pace, recreating some of the fi nest furniture ever made. His reputation keeps him busy. “If everything I have talked with people about comes through, I’ll be busy for the next three or four years. I’m comfortable, but still I can’t keep from worrying about what I’ll do after that,” he says.

Unfortunately for the rest of us, Ipekjian doesn’t have any plans at this point to teach or write about his work, “I’m too busy really doing the work. I work a lot of hours because it’s fun, and I love what I do.” Pointing to a stack of lumber leaning on the wall next to some shelves he says, “You might be interested in that wood and those tools; they belonged to Charles Greene.” The tools were worn from use but well cared for, and the lumber was marked with Greene’s name and address from many years ago.

The tools and lumber were freely given to Ipekjian. He also has a sense of gratitude for where he is today. “I can’t explain it, or possibly tell someone else how to get here, I’m fortunate to be where I am.”

When studying old furniture and its makers, I often wonder what it was like at the time. Why did they do things a certain way? What were the reasons for doing this, and how was it done? James Ipekjian has spent nearly 30 years asking those questions – and discovering many of the answers – about the furniture of Greene and Greene. He remains curious and eager to find the answers to the questions he still has, and in the meantime, he has another table leg to carve. PW
 

THE BLACKER HOUSE
Many of the homes designed and built by Charles Sumner Greene and Henry Mather Greene have suffered cruel fates. Some were torn down; others were thoughtlessly remodeled or left to rot. Before the revival of interest in the work of Greene and Greene that began in the 1970s, no one seemed to know or care what treasures these houses and their furnishings were. After the revival it was often too late to undo the damage and dispersal that had been done.

The Blacker house, in Pasadena, Calif., one of the finest examples of the Greene’s worked once seemed doomed, but it is now in the middle of a happy ending to its sad story. As long as the original owner and his widow lived in the house, Henry Greene saw to it that the property was maintained, and wrote to his brother Charles in the 1930s of how good the interiors looked after being “gone over.”

Shortly after Mrs. Blacker’s death in the late 1940s, the five-acre site was subdivided and new houses were erected in what had been a majestic backyard garden. Much of the furniture was sold off in a yard sale, and years later reappeared in museum and private collections.

By the mid 1980s, the Blacker house looked more like an eyesore than the centerpiece of a posh neighborhood. New shingles had been placed directly over old ones, and the roof had deteriorated. Exposed rafter ends had begun to rot, and the once-colorful structure had turned a moldy looking black.

The worst blow to the house’s dignity came in 1985 when the property changed hands. A new owner had purchased the house after learning that the light fixtures and art glass windows were worth more than the property itself. Immediately after closing, trucks appeared, and more than 50 exquisite wood and art-glass light fixtures were removed and sold off. The city of Pasadena passed legislation preventing the future removal of fixtures and furnishings from historic structures, and negotiated with the owner to replace art glass windows he wanted to sell with exact reproductions.

The property was sold again to an owner who wanted to restore it, but who wasn’t up to the task. In 1995, the current owners began their restoration. James Ipekjian was first asked to reproduce the light fixtures that had been removed. As the restoration of the entire house proceeded, it became evident to the owners that an experienced, knowledgeable craftsman needed to be in charge, and Ipekjian oversaw the project for two years before beginning work on the lights.

With more than 50 lighting fixtures completed, Ipekjian began reproducing the original furniture. In the dining room, breakfast room and living room, most of the furniture has now been reproduced, and the remaining pieces originally made by Peter and John Hall will likely be completed in the next few years.

The Blacker house is not open to the public, except for occasional private tours. The restored interiors have been featured in several recent books. The only discernable difference between Ipekjian’s reproductions and the original pieces is the patina that comes with 100 years of age. — RL