This post tells the story of how the hanging table came to be. I was living in a retrofitted loft in Des Moines, Iowa which used to be a dairy factory, so it had clay bricks the size of CMU blocks and high wood raft ceiling. Being an incredibly new living experience, it beckoned me to explore the proportionality of the space through design, at the same time I was working in an architecture office, Neumann Monson Architects, on a project that retrofitted shipping containers to create a shopping, retail-office building and apartment blocks. I would visit the site where we were to design the extension to the YMCA living quarters for the elderly and next door there was a 6-storey factory building full of antiques, my heaven. Upon each site visit I would visit the antique Mecca and sift through useless beautiful objects. One sleepless night I decided to hang a table from the wood rafters, meanwhile at the office, we were throwing away glass samples given to us by glass manufacturers. So I went to the antique kingdom and did a serious, thorough search until I found what used to be a make-shift door for a pick-up truck. So I drilled four holes in the door and the ceiling and then was born the hanging table that wouldn’t stop swinging.