From a Kunming back-alley workshop to your tea space
The prototype for this divider turned up on an unseasonably hot afternoon in a narrow lane off Kunming’s Hongshan East Road, during a procurement run for tea trays, chasing a lead on old-growth camphorwood, when the scent of fresh walnut came through a half-open roller door. Inside, a retired carpenter was planing slats of North American black walnut — a wood he’d been hoarding since a cancelled hotel order. The slats were destined for bed-heads, but they suggested something else: a low screen, just 60 centimeters tall, that could tether a floor-seating tea area without boxing it in. Over two hours of jasmine tea, three designs were sketched on the back of a sandpaper packet. By dusk, the first divider was standing in the doorway, striping the concrete with late sun. We now work with that small team in Zhejiang, where the walnut — FSC-certified, kiln-dried — is jointed with double tenons and finished with a hardwax oil that brings out the subtle purple-brown cast without turning plastic-shiny. Each divider is numbered and signed on the bottom rail with the workshop’s tiny wood-burned stamp. Every unit is inspected before it ships, checking joinery, grain flow, and the way light moves across the surface. The result is a piece that feels inevitable: a boundary you can see through, a pause between the tea room and the rest of the apartment.