I spent most of yesterday afternoon in the studio, staring at a stack of rejected chair joints that I still haven’t found the heart to throw away. There is a…

I remember sitting in my studio three years ago, surrounded by the scent of freshly sawn walnut and the quiet hum of the workshop, staring at a shoebox full of…

I was sitting on my workshop floor last Tuesday, surrounded by the scent of freshly cut walnut and the mounting pile of unpaid invoices, wondering when exactly the “business” part…

I still remember the smell of sawdust and stale coffee in my studio back in 2008, staring at a set of blueprints for a dining table that was destined for…

I remember sitting in my studio five years ago, surrounded by the scent of sawdust and the heavy, metallic tang of a broken CNC bit, staring at a stack of…

I remember sitting in a drafty studio in my late twenties, staring at a prototype for a chair that had cost me three months of rent and a dozen failed…

I was standing in a pristine, white-walled gallery last spring, staring at a series of perfectly polished chairs, and I felt absolutely nothing. The lighting was expensive, the curation was…

I remember sitting in my studio back in ’04, surrounded by three different rejected versions of a walnut chair leg, staring at a stack of business cards that felt more…

I spent most of my morning staring at a pile of rejected chair joints—walnut scraps that didn’t quite meet the tolerance I demanded—and feeling a deep, physical resentment toward the…

I spent three weeks last year staring at a blank WordPress dashboard, feeling more paralyzed than I ever did when trying to figure out the joinery for a mid-century sideboard.…