The picture below shows what it replaced. As you can see it was quite an improvement and transformed the feel of the room.

Dimension are 2' x 4' x 1'8".

This glue up was quite complex - the base and panels took most of the day.  Then it was a matter of fitting the top - ironing out all the little imperfections with hand planes until I had a snug fit.  I put the top on with out gluing it and stood back to admire the effect.  I was met with a slight sinking feeling.  Something seemed not quite right. It's interesting how gluing up - which makes the decisions one has made in the course of doing the piece irrevocable - can heighten ones critical awareness!  Somehow, in spite of the shaping I had done previously, the corners  and line of the top felt wrong - not quite how I had intended.  I had a cup of tea and then came back and looked again.  Yes - it was definitely not quite what I had hoped for.  

It's can be quite  stressful to make changes at a late stage, and I had planned to finish the glue-up by the end of the day, so I wrestled with my conscience for a bit, trying to convince myself that it "would do".  Another cup of tea and I realised that -no - I would not feel happy to leave it like that.  So I spent a couple of hours adjusting one edge of the top with a spokeshave.  Finally I felt that I had something which worked better.  I remember reading David Pye saying that the difference between something which sings and something which is forever silent is often very small.  I was reminded of this while I worked.  A very slight change in the profile of an edge can make all the difference....

If you want some milk paint in powdered form you can get it from here.

I always approach this process with some trepidation.  I adopt a free form and exploratory approach to the work, and there's inevitably anxiety lest I make a bad choice - which could be expensive!  The process always reminds me of fitting clinker planks in boat building.  Because of the whimsical nature of timber, wooden boats tend not to be exactly symmetrical.  It is therefore necessary to juggle the inevitable inaccuracies into an attractive whole - "if it looks right it is right", as my teachers repeatedly told me!  I approach furniture making in a similar way.  Wood grain can profoundly influence the effect of a curve or line, and it is necessary to take differences in the grain into account with each piece of wood even when following the same basic pattern.  This is one reason why abandoning machines and taking up hand tools is often so beneficial to the outcome of a piece.  With a spokeshave or hand plane one is able to make the subtle differences in shape necessary.

In this case I scalloped out the underside of each side of the top, which introduces tension, very slightly rounded the sides to harmonise with the base and add interest, and very gently rounded to the top edge to soften it.  The result is a much nicer piece of furniture - and the realisation that I need to make some changes to the bottom skirting as well....

an architectural space frames, halts, strengthens and focuses our thoughts, and prevents them from getting lost.  We can dream and sense our being outdoors, but we need the architectural geometry of a room to think clearly.  The geometry of thought echoes the geometry of the room.

It's intriguing how profoundly we are intertwined - emotionally, physically, spiritually -  with the spaces which we move through and inhabit.  The same is true of the objects we use and are surrounded by.  They not only reflect us, but create us.   I think that if we are at all involved in making things for ourselves or others this is worth thinking on.  Can we produce things which have the potential to become a valued part of a person's inner as well as outer world?  And what might that mean in practice?

Just to be asking ourselves these questions may involve a shift in our approach.  It might lessen our preoccupation with "originality", "form" and "self expression", and give us clues about where a deeper meaning in our work could lie - within which originality, form and self expression can find their own, unforced place.

¹ Juhani Pallasmaa, The Eyes of the Skin, Wiley, 2005

The shelf pins and door stops are made of rosewood, the handles are of elm. The cabinet itself is quartersawn oak.

Almost every piece of the cabinet is curved - but subtly. The idea for a curved cabinet grew from a wish to have a welcoming sense of enclosure for the objects on display when the doors are open (a line of thought which came from lookng at some of Krenov's cabinets).  Following on from that other curves became necessary to make everything balance. I like curves which add life without yelling for attention.  Less is very often more.....