Inglis Hall for Jay Osgerby—an obsession with making, where every millimetre matters

When Jay Osgerby approached us – a full year ago now, to make a kitchen for his barn restoration, it was not simply a commission, but the start of our friendship. The conversations – yes, rooted in design and honest making – have often gone deeper. We share a joint obsession with how things are put together, and an appreciation for the weight a single millimetre can carry. But we also have other common beliefs.

The process is always a dialogue. A thoughtful exploration of how a kitchen should live and breathe within a unique heritage building, aiming for something that in Jay’s words ‘didn’t feel too kitcheny’. How wonderful to work with fellow humans who understand how refreshing it is to build a kitchen that is not too kitcheny. It's what we do. Its our thing. Welcome to our world.

Freestanding elements. Traditional joinery. Quietly elevated by Jay’s modernist touch. Simplicity. Form. Yet, meticulously crafted in every detail.

With final designs in hand. It was time to make. Our turn.

The start of any making process begins with material. For us, this invariably means timber. No two pieces of which are ever the same. So where do we begin? Well, our preference is to select a whole tree, or boule, large enough to complete a whole project ideally. This to many modern production workshops would sound old fashioned. And it is. It is a method of working from a different era. When timber would be sawn on site, and stacked in the joiners yard, or ‘sticked out’ as they called it. Seasoning. What a wonderful word. Just seasoning.

The advantage of having the ‘whole tree’ in your timber store is continuity. Select your prime, just off center-boards, which through nature and physics are naturally quartersawn, stable and stunning, for your drawer fronts that are on display, so that they grain runs through effortlessly from cabinet to cabinet. These boards are naturally wide, as wide as the majestic tree itself in all its glory. But even the outer boards, top and bottom of the sawyers stack have their own beauty and place within the design. They have slightly different attributes to their brothers and sisters, but are no less important to us.

For Jay and Helen Osgerby, Oak was chosen for its strength of character, and Larch was chosen for its contrasting softness. A marriage. Made more robust by its parts.

At last. Onto the bench. The familiar rhythm of making. Measuring. Marking out. Checking and cutting. Stacked components on a journey through our workshops. A visit to the morticer, the tenoner then the pillar drill. Components successfully jointed. Furniture created. As craftspeople have known for ever. But in a modern workshop. And for a modern kitchen. This is less common. Craft is less common.

By embracing the whole tree, one also, with joy, needs to embrace its faults. Our faults are where our interest lies, and so is it with the tree. The spur of a dead branch. The deep crevasse of a gnarled knot. Techniques are needed to celebrate these imperfections and not to reject them. Grain. Texture. Interest.

Every element of this kitchen is made here. Currently by six pairs of skilled hands on the shop floor.

Our oak Joiners island, traditional peg and drawn construction. Never a pastiche. With Jay’s extended overhangs on the ends to feel more table like. Less kitcheny.

Drawer boxes. Our next task. More often hand laid out dovetails for Inglis Hall, but for Jays eye – and others – the more linear finger joints are favoured. No reduction in craft however. Scalloped drawer sides reduce bulk. Super fine divides create sanctuaries for every utensil, with fine birds-mouth mitres connecting their walls. Rich kale broadcloth from Scotland softens the clatter of contents.

Everyman’s pocket door pantry, clad in our signature band-sawn oak, houses an integrated Quooker tap for an early morning coffee while feeding the log burner.

Two fully-bespoke freestanding kitchen larder cabinets in Larch. Jays dream. Inspired by our own, utilitarian workshop storage. Refined. Osgerby-ed. A unique handle profile to please its master. Refined again. And again. Perhaps this cabinet deserves its own story being told. In a different format, on a different occasion. We will get back to you.

While we have been busy in the workshop, Jay and the team have been finessing site ready for our installation.

Carrara marble and Belgian blue, fossilised stone are used not just for work surfaces but on the walls, a chest height statement reinstating a former painted line in the stables. Stronger now, and with practical purpose. Floors in an end-grain patchwork of Oak tiles. Wonderfully soothing underfoot.

Jay did not stop there. Who else would design and commission their own handles and taps? And they are stunning. Refined simplicity. We would love to find out more about this journey ourselves, so will let you know how we get on.

Every choice has intention: finishes that will wear well, a handle that cradles in the hand, a task made easy with everything within arm’s reach.

Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. A classic Barber Osgerby light presides over the joiners kitchen island. Heritage. Tick.

So a year on, and a year into the project. In an everchanging world, a project we can celebrate for all the right reasons. Just the final ascent ahead. Installation to come.

If you missed our previous instalments to this story, please visit part one and part two. We look forward to sharing the finished barn project in a few months’time.