People assume a furniture studio is full of its own furniture. It is, mostly. But the objects we actually reach for are older, and none of them were made here.

A cast-iron pan that has been seasoned for longer than any of us has been alive. A wooden spoon with a handle worn to the shape of a hand that is not ours. A brass ruler, bent. A stoneware jug from a market in Porto that pours badly and is used every day. A chair from a school in Antwerp, which is the reason the Morrow chair exists.

None of these are precious. All of them are kept. That is the distinction we are trying to make with everything we put our name on: not that an object is rare, but that it becomes difficult to imagine the room without it.