The Job That Lost Money
I remember sitting in my studio three years ago, staring at a prototype chair that had just cost me four months of rent and a significant amount of my dignity.…
Read moreLoading
I remember sitting in my studio three years ago, staring at a prototype chair that had just cost me four months of rent and a significant amount of my dignity.…
Read moreI have a shelf in the back of my studio, tucked behind the heavy slabs of walnut, that serves as a graveyard for “perfect” ideas. It’s filled with joints that…
Read moreI was sitting on my studio floor last Tuesday, staring at a pile of rejected walnut joints, when I realized how much we lie to ourselves about our gear. There…
Read moreI was standing in a dusty corner of a workshop in Milan last spring, waiting for a CNC machine to finish a complex routing job, when I realized how much…
Read moreI was sitting in my studio last Tuesday, staring at a pile of rejected chair legs—each one marked with a handwritten note explaining why the joinery failed or the curve…
Read moreI was staring at a walnut sideboard last Tuesday, a piece I’d spent three weeks perfecting, only to realize the oil finish was highlighting every single microscopic scratch I’d been…
Read moreI spent three years in my early twenties thinking that finding my people meant paying a monthly subscription to some polished, high-end co-working space with ergonomic chairs and artisanal espresso.…
Read moreI remember sitting in my studio three years ago, surrounded by the scent of freshly sawn walnut and the mounting dread of a calendar that looked more like a battlefield…
Read moreI was staring at a seventeenth-century walnut chair in a workshop in Florence, watching a master restorer work with a small, steaming pot of animal protein, and it hit me:…
Read moreI was staring at a ruined slab of walnut last Tuesday, my hands shaking slightly, wondering why I hadn’t just used a machine press like a sane person. Most people…
Read more