The forest does the designing. We just finish the sentence.
Tripod Home is a small workshop with a simple rule: nothing is felled for our furniture. We work with what storms bring down, what tides carry in, and what orchards clear away.
Found, not felled
Every Tripod piece starts with a walk — along a tideline, through a wind-thrown plantation, into the tangle a digger left behind. We're looking for timber with a past: roots that gripped a bank for eighty years, branches that grew around fences, driftwood sanded by a decade of salt.
Back in the workshop, the rule holds. We clean, cure and join; we don't carve a shape the wood didn't already suggest. A root that cradles becomes a table base. A fork that springs becomes a bench back. The grain gets the final say.
That's why nothing we make can exist twice — and why we photograph every piece where it was born, not in a white box.
