Story
Lightening the table
His design, less of the factory
The table spent a life in a factory. Great-grandfather had built it that way — thick quarter-sawn oak, a thicket of fasteners, too heavy to move twice without thinking about it.
I wanted to honor the original: the stance, the X trusses, the legs proud of the top. I did not want to honor the weight.
Disassembly first. Then resurfacing, so the grain could be read again. The old fasteners came out. In their place: hand-cut lap joints and mortises, fitted to carry the structure. Screws only for the keystone board and the tabletop — metal where the piece still asks for it.
Danish oil on the oak. The factory is gone. The table is not.