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A story of tables and chairs

I have built four tables.

I haven't built a chair yet.

But I have a deep admiration for both.


Tables and chairs might be two of the most useful objects we've ever designed.

We eat at them.

We work on them.

We learn around them.

We celebrate birthdays.

We have difficult conversations.

We build companies.

We write articles.

Almost every meaningful moment in our lives happens with a table and a chair somewhere nearby.


The funny thing is...

We almost never notice them.

They quietly disappear into our everyday lives.


One of the first tables I built is slightly taller than it should be.

Not enough that someone walking past would notice.

But enough that my body notices every single time.

After an hour or two of working, my shoulders sit just a little higher.

My wrists never quite relax.

I keep shifting in my chair.

Instead of thinking about my work...

I end up thinking about the table.


The other tables I use never do that.

I don't think about their height.

Or the thickness of the tabletop.

Or where the legs are positioned.

They simply let me work.

Someone else figured those things out long before I ever used them.

Because they got it right...

I never think about them at all.


My office chair is the same.

It's a good ergonomic chair.

I sit on it for most of the day.

Yet I rarely have anything to say about it.

It isn't exciting.

It isn't beautiful in any remarkable way.

It simply disappears.

Hours pass while I'm focused on designing, writing, or building instead of thinking about my back.

I think that's one of the highest compliments you can give an object.


Building those tables also made me appreciate something I had never thought much about before.

Dimensions.

A few centimeters can completely change how an object feels to use.

A table isn't just a flat surface with four legs.

Its height exists because someone decided what felt comfortable for the human body.

A coffee table is different from a dining table.

A workbench is different from a desk.

Every dimension tells a story about how people use that object.


One of my favorite websites is Dimensions.com.

It looks like a collection of measurements.

But I think it's much more than that.

It's a library of everyday objects.

Tables.

Chairs.

Doors.

Staircases.

Kitchen counters.

Benches.

Hundreds of objects we use every day without wondering why they are the size they are.

Every drawing is a reminder that these objects didn't happen by accident.

They're the result of generations of people refining them until they quietly fit into our lives.


As designers, we often celebrate products that stand out.

The newest phone.

The fastest motorcycle.

The latest gadget.

But I've started appreciating the opposite.

Objects that quietly step out of the way.

Objects that let me focus on living instead of using them.


It's strange that a table with the wrong height made me appreciate all the tables with the right one.

Sometimes good design isn't memorable because it's extraordinary.

Sometimes it's memorable because it quietly disappears.

And perhaps that's the greatest achievement of all.