ISSUE NO. 68

A December Issue

The unfinished room theory proposes that a space does not need to be fully resolved to be complete. By leaving elements open, raw, or unresolved, a room invites participation rather than instruction, allowing the occupant to project meaning, memory, and use onto it. Where finished spaces assert control and finality, unfinished ones remain in dialogue with time, acknowledging that inhabitation is an ongoing process.

ARCHITECTURALLY CURIOUS

Arrival + Threshold

The room reads as a negotiation between weight and lightness. Thick beams press low overhead while a single, slender column quietly carries the load, making structure visible rather than hidden.

The poured floor flattens hierarchy—old stone, new timber, and concrete all meet without ceremony. Even the leather chair and upright piano feel paused, as if the architecture has asked everything to slow down.

Living Between Old and New

Timber ceilings stretch toward the garden, their grain mirrored by the round dining table below, turning everyday gathering into a deliberate ritual. Glass walls erase the boundary without erasing shelter; the stone wall beyond becomes part of the room’s backdrop. Nothing feels decorative—each element earns its place through proportion and restraint.

Shifts in Flow

Here repetition brings clarity. The same column reappears, the same floor continues, but the view shifts just enough to reveal how carefully old and new are stitched together. Rough plaster, exposed beams, and precise joinery sit side by side without trying to match. The structure lets continuity do the talking.

GLOBAL GLIMPSE

Light, Held Softly

Stillness here comes from proportion and rhythm: seating that stays low and grounded, tables formed from softened geometry, and a ceiling that arcs gently overhead in pale wood ribs.

Daylight enters quietly, diffused through sheer fabric, easing contrast and tempering shadow. The effect isn’t dramatic, but it is deliberate. This is a space calibrated to slow time rather than perform for it.

Objects in Use

Scale tightens and attention shifts to the hand. A narrow desk, a carved lamp, fragments of woven fiber, and small works on the wall feel placed through use, not styling. Surfaces stay matte, edges stay forgiving, and materials remain close to their origins—wood, plaster, cloth. Craft takes precedence over display, allowing presence to emerge through wear and familiarity.

Structure as a Way of Living

Here, storage, seating, and movement merge into a single, steady system. Dark-stained cabinetry grounds the room while open shelving invites change and accumulation over time.

Light remains restrained, joints are intentional, and nothing feels over-resolved. What remains is a quiet proposition: a space shaped by repetition, built to support the ordinary rituals that slowly give a place its meaning.

VISUAL COMFORT

Stacked and Restrained

Rigid steel is drawn into a clean oval and punctured with visible fasteners, then softened by a halo of white fur that breaks the discipline of the form. What first reads as mechanical—aligned bolts, a centered spine—shifts as the fur absorbs the severity, turning structure into something tactile and intimate. The interest lies less in comfort than in watching a hard material adjust its stance.

In the second piece, cylindrical cushions are stacked and restrained by an exposed metal armature that feels engineered, not ornamental. Joints are left visible, curves are deliberate, and softness is treated as a component rather than a cover. The result sits between tool, sculpture, and furniture—quietly questioning where usefulness ends and intention takes over.

MUSICAL INTERLUDE

What I'm Listening to in December

In this way, the room is not lacking—it is alive, shaped continuously by presence rather than perfection—be well my friends.

Warmly,
/shane