A Family of Pieces With One Language
I was staring at a stack of rejected walnut chair legs in my studio last Tuesday—each one marked with a sharpie note about a failed taper or an aggressive curve—when…
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I was staring at a stack of rejected walnut chair legs in my studio last Tuesday—each one marked with a sharpie note about a failed taper or an aggressive curve—when…
Read moreI was staring at a walnut sideboard last Tuesday, the kind of piece that should have been a triumph, but instead looked like it had been sprayed with a cheap,…
Read moreI spent three years in a high-end production studio where we used expensive, laser-etched aluminum tags for every single component, as if a piece of metal could somehow compensate for…
Read moreI remember standing in my studio three years ago, the smell of sawdust and stale espresso hanging heavy in the air, staring at a crate that had arrived looking more…
Read moreI was clearing out a corner of the studio last Tuesday when I tripped over a stack of birch plywood offcuts that had been sitting there since 2014. They weren’t…
Read moreI was standing over a walnut dining table last Tuesday, staring at a patch of wood that looked dull, thirsty, and frankly, ruined. My instinct—the one honed by twenty years…
Read moreI was staring at a stack of discarded walnut offcuts last Tuesday, thinking about the sheer amount of marketing jargon I’ve had to swallow over the last twenty years. Everyone…
Read moreI was standing over a walnut sideboard last Tuesday, staring at a patch of milky, uneven cloudiness that shouldn’t have been there, wondering why I hadn’t just used a modern…
Read moreI spent most of yesterday morning staring at a rejected walnut chair leg—one of the many ghosts in my studio—because I couldn’t decide if the taper was too aggressive or…
Read moreI remember standing in my studio three years ago, surrounded by a graveyard of bent walnut and misaligned joinery, staring at a prototype that looked perfect on paper but felt…
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