Shifting Perspectives

Art has the power to stir the soul—a truth revealed in John Keats’ “Ode on a Grecian Urn.” As the poet contemplates an ancient vessel, he embarks on an emotional journey. Every angle evokes a new feeling, offering a reminder that art is an endless preservation of beauty.

This visual essay echoes that sentiment, presenting new perspectives on an edit of beloved designs. Familiar silhouettes come alive in a fresh light, inviting new dialogue and deeper connection with form, material, and artistry.

THE WESTON STOOL in Storm Italian Bouclé with Golden Oiled Oak. THE REMSEN CHAIR in Russet Pony Hair Leather with Chocolate Oak. THE LEON DINING ARMCHAIR in Obsidian Lacquer. THE EMILE SIDE TABLE in Obsidian and Sugar Lacquer.

THE VENICE CHAIR in Golden Oiled Oak with Carob Belgian Linen. THE GALERIE PLINTH in White Cerused Oak.

THE BASEL PLINTH in White Onyx. THE WRIGHT SIDE TABLE in Natural Walnut.

Ode on a Grecian Urn

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
      Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
      A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape
      Of deities or mortals, or of both,
               In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
      What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
               What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
      Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
      Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
      Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
               Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
      She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
               For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
         Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
         For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
         For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
               For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
         That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
               A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
         To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
         And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
         Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
               Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
         Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
               Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
         Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
         Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
         When old age shall this generation waste,
               Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
         "Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
               Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

JOHN KEATS

THE EMILE SIDE TABLE in Obsidian and Sugar Lacquer, Cashew and Sugar Lacquer. 
THE BANK ROUND DINING TABLE in Natural Walnut.

THE BASEL PLINTH in White Onyx. THE OLIVER CHAIR in Almond Mohair.