Taste scales.
Most collecting happens by accident.
This practice exists because I think it shouldn't.
Every acquisition is a position — defended by provenance, tested by friction, validated only if it gets lived with.
The framework isn't a checklist. It's a filter that lets the right things through and keeps everything else out.
Who made it?
Who owned it?
What it survived.
If the chain of custody doesn't hold, the object doesn't enter.
Anyone can buy an Eames lounge on a Tuesday. The right one — right year, right provenance, right leather — takes longer. I source from estates, studio sales, and listings that disappear in hours.
Every significant object is a collaboration — designer against manufacturer, vision against constraint — where the tension between collaborators is the content. A Burdick desk across from a Kukkapuro places those tensions in conversation. That's not collecting; that's making an argument.
Walk into the room and read the argument. Interior architecture, not interior decoration — if the collection needs a docent, it isn't finished.
Nothing is roped off. The scratch on the dining table is twenty years of dinner parties. That's the point.