It’s 8:03 a.m. I open the studio door, and I’m stepping into three centuries at once. The floor smells faintly of sawdust not from yesterday, but from 1923. My hand brushes against a CNC control panel that could be from 2035. This is not an ordinary workspace. It’s my time machine.
1. The Past: Memory as Material
Some mornings, I begin in the archive corner:
A cabinet full of tactile samples from abandoned buildings.
Sketchbooks from my university days.
Tools whose handles are polished by the hands of long-gone carpenters.
Here, I’m not just looking backward…. I’m extracting DNA from the past. The wood grain from an old door becomes the profile of a new chair leg. The curve of a 1950s staircase becomes the template for a handle. Tradition is my raw material.
2. The Present: Reality as Constraint
By noon, I’m in the main workshop. This is the gravity zone… where clients, budgets, regulations, and today’s cultural climate pull ideas down to Earth.
