What began as “just a coat rack” for a new fitness room quickly turned into something far more personal. The set included a modern oak shoe rack and a dining-style oak tabletop, but this piece became the wildcard: equal parts design experiment and personal challenge.
At the lumberyard, I stumbled upon an oak slab with a striking live edge. It wasn’t part of the original plan, but the moment I saw it, I knew I had to keep that raw, organic contour. It meant extra work and custom solutions, but it also promised a chance to make something truly mine.
The hinge system was its own adventure. Before committing to oak, I started with real CAD but later I turned to another flavour of CAD that stands for Cardboard Aided Design. Prototyping the folding motion with cardboard, then refining it in plywood, gave me the confidence to move on to solid wood.
Only after the plywood template felt right did I commit to oak. The mechanism itself is simple in principle but demanding in execution: each hook folds out like the keys of a piano, disappearing flush when not in use.
Getting there meant meticulous, almost meditative cycles of assembly, reassembly, sanding, finishing, and testing again. Every adjustment was a respectful discussion with the material: avoiding cracks, respecting the grain, and finding harmony between precision and the organic irregularity.
By the time I lifted the finished piece above my head for the hero photo, I realised it had become more than a commission. It was a synthesis of many things I care about: careful craft, playful engineering, and, above all, the meeting of function and aesthetics.
Now it hangs as a statement piece and a quiet reminder: even in everyday objects, beauty and utility can coexist—sometimes all it takes is patience, persistence, and a live edge you refuse to cut away.