The Anatomy of My Work
I skip the shortcuts of mass manufacturing in favor of joinery that breathes with the seasons and wood sourced from the forests around me.
I work exclusively with local white oak, walnut, and cherry. I select every board for its grain direction and structural honesty.
No pocket screws or cheap fasteners. I use hand-cut dovetails and mortise-and-tenon joints that grow stronger with age.
I favor oils and waxes that sink into the wood. It leaves a tactile, matte surface that is easy to repair and beautiful to touch.
Every piece is a response to a specific space. We begin with a sketch and refine the proportions until the balance is perfect.
My furniture is designed to be passed down. If a joint ever fails under normal use, I will bring it back to the bench myself.
I only take on a few commissions a year. This allows me the time to obsess over the details that define truly permanent objects.
Notes from the living room
Letters from those who live among my joints, shavings, and sapwood.
The walnut dining table doesn't just sit in our kitchen; it grounds the entire house. There is a weight and a silence to it that mass-produced pieces simply cannot replicate.
I asked for a desk that would last a lifetime. What I received was a piece of Maine history, joined with a precision that makes me pause every time I sit down to work.
In an era of disposable flat-packs, his work is a necessary rebellion. The grain matching on our sideboard is nothing short of intentional art.
The finish is like silk, yet the construction is rugged. It’s rare to find a maker who understands both the delicacy of the wood and the demands of a busy home.