There are moments when something simply stops you.
Not because it is loud.
Not because it asks for attention.
But because it holds it.
That is what happened when Sam and I met Henry and his wife Joyce today.
We were meant to have coffee for an hour.
Henry and Joyce stayed for four.
That usually says everything.
A conversation between makers
Somewhere between the first and second cup,
the conversation shifted.
Not to business.
Not to selling.
But to making.
That quiet place where something begins…
without knowing where it will end.
I recognized it immediately.
Because what I have with my jewelry…
Henry has with his wood.
Turning, without knowing
He starts with a piece of wood.
No plan.
No fixed outcome.
Just a feeling that there is something inside it.
And then he begins.
Turn…
Turn…
Turn…
Following the grain.
Listening more than forcing.
Until there comes a moment — where he thinks:
This is lost.
That the piece is not going anywhere.
That it won’t become what he hoped it would be.
And then…
Something appears. 🤎
Not perfect.
Not symmetrical.
But right.
The beauty of what reveals itself
What he makes cannot be repeated.
Because it was never planned.
Each piece carries:
- the shape it was given
- the resistance it offered
- the moment it almost failed
And maybe that is why it feels different.
Because it is not designed to be perfect.
It is allowed to become.
When you recognize yourself in someone else
Listening to Henry, I smiled more than once.
Because I know that moment.
The doubt.
The hesitation.
The piece that doesn’t come together…
And then suddenly, it does.
And you look at it and think:
Ah… there you are.
We laughed about something else too.
How hard it can be to let certain pieces go.
Because when you create something like this,
you don’t just make it…
You become attached to it.
(Real entrepreneurs, we said… 😅)
Time, held in form
Some of his wood comes from Sardinia, where he and his wife have a home.
Other pieces are found closer by — in the Netherlands, in forgotten places, sometimes from objects that once had a completely different life.
Nothing is rushed.
Nothing is forced into a shape it doesn’t want to be.
And you can feel that.
Where it meets our world
When Henry brought one of his pieces into our home to stay,
I placed a bracelet on it — almost without thinking.
And something clicked.
The softness of the stones.
The grounding of the wood.
Two different materials.
The same intention.
To create something that lasts.
A quiet direction
For a long time, Sam and I have been moving towards something.
Away from the fast.
Away from the disposable.
Away from things that are made without thought.
And closer to what is real.
Meeting Henry didn’t feel like a coincidence.
It felt like recognition.
What comes next
For now, his piece lives quietly within our space.
You may see it appear — here and there —
holding a bracelet,
catching the light,
simply being.
And perhaps, in time,
some of the pieces of Henry will find their way into our collection.
But not in a rush.
Because some things are not meant to be hurried.
A return to what matters
In a world that moves fast,
we find ourselves drawn more and more
to the things that don’t.
Objects shaped by hand.
Materials shaped by nature.
People who create without knowing exactly what will come…
…and trust that something will.
This is where we feel at home.
And maybe…
you do too.
MyHouseMyHome
— A place to discover, to pause, and to feel at home — even online.