Most furniture is, at its most basic level, either a raised surface to put things on (in the case of chairs, our butts), or a box to put things in. A table is a board set up on legs to get our stuff off the floor. A box can either be a place to organise and hide clutter and protect things, like a chest, or a place to put things on display, like a china cupboard. Put a number of boxes together into a larger box, and you have invented a chest of drawers. In the the last few thousand years, it seems unlikely that there are very many aesthetic variations on that theme that haven't been touched upon in one way or another.
The concept of ‘period furniture’ refers to the fact that in past times, most of the makers of any particular time were doing a relatively consistent style or styles. The notion that every craftsman must be unique and innovative is really an odd one that it seems to me must be idiosyncratic of our culture and time in history. The folly of that way of looking at things is well illustrated by some of the ‘studio art furniture’ that has appeared in the past fifteen years or so, that subsumes function to some esoteric statement that the ‘artist’ wants to make.
I make furniture because I love it and it is important to me. When I create a piece, ideally it says something about what I think good furniture should be. Sometimes, that means looking at design in a new way, whether in terms of function, structure or aesthetics. Other times, that means emulating the masters of the past or present. Frequently, it is some combination of the two. If I cannot afford the time or money to be taught by the master personally, or the master is unavailable, then making a piece in his or her style is a great way to try to understand the thought processes that led to doing things in that way. Is it less acceptable for a lone woodworker to come up with his or her version of a Maloof chair than for a student of Maloof’s to do the same thing? With time and growth, we find our own voice, but it is difficult enough to do that without having to worry about making sure that our work is devoid of the influence of anyone else's.
None of us operate in a vacuum. The established elders of the field, the commercially successful, the on-the-edge design risk takers, as well as those who choose what work will be shown, those who comment upon it in publication, and those who purchase the work -- all of these have an effect on what work we see of others, and to a certain degree, what we choose to make. I am a member of a community engaged in an ongoing dialogue -- a community that consists predominantly of independent, self educated, highly skilled people who probably spend too much time alone in their shops. If the form the dialogue takes is the furniture that we occasionally disgorge out into the world, it should not be surprising that we sometimes find that we agree with other members of the community.
