ON WOOD: THE MATERIAL OF MEMORY
Wood is not a static material. It breathes, shifts, and tells stories—each grain a record of its journey from forest to form. Unlike manufactured surfaces that resist change, wood bears witness to its history, accumulating character with each passing year.
The only custom piece of furniture that I recall having in my childhood home was a solid walnut dining table and chairs with woven jute seats - my mom’s prized possession. Amongst other pieces of furniture in the house that may not have fully lived up to her refined style, the table was a piece that she truly held value in. Everyone in the house knew how important the table was to her, and that if a nick or scratch were to ever appear, someone would have some explaining to do. Under her watchful eye, the table remained relatively unharmed. Until the day my little brother, Ryan, dug out the electric griddle that was typically reserved for Saturday morning pancakes. He set it up on one side of the dinner table to use as his very own DIY hibachi setup that night. Complete with a chef hat and apron, he proceeded to cook up all the usual hibachi suspects - fried rice, chicken and veggies, even an onion volcano. Putting on a show for the family, it was a memorable night around the table yet to be forgotten- in part due to the 4 small round blemishes left from the feet of the griddle that remain on the table to this day. All this to say - now that my mom has passed away, I look back on these marks on the table fondly. Not as scars, but beauty marks.
To me, a piece of furniture is not merely an object, but a chronicle. The subtle darkening of a walnut surface, the gentle softening of sharp edges, the four small griddle feet blemishes that catch light from a certain angle—these are not imperfections, but a form of visual memory. Each mark is a moment preserved: a child's first encounter, a dinner party's laughter, the quiet solitude of a reading corner.
This transformative quality is what makes wood extraordinary. Where metal might corrode and plastic might degrade, wood develops a rich, nuanced language of aging. A well-crafted wooden piece doesn't deteriorate; it matures. The patina becomes a collaboration between human use and material resilience.
At Black Crate, our approach honors this inherent dialogue. We select woods not just for their initial appearance, but for their potential—how they will look and feel decades from now. A piece from Black Crate is designed to be more beautiful in ten years than the day it was completed, and I deeply hope that every client we get the opportunity to work with keeps this in mind as they begin to live with pieces we’ve created for them and their lives.
-Adam
