Tania Fiuzie

Tania Fiuzie builds furniture in a small EU atelier where the loudest sound most days is a hand plane, working one piece at a time rather than running batches. She owns and mills her own walnut — a portion of it Persian walnut, Juglans regia, from old trees on land her grandparents held, timber that came to her lawfully through gift and inheritance and reaches her studio with no payment ever flowing to Iran. She cuts her own joints, selects European and American black walnut board by board for the rest of each piece, and signs nothing she wouldn't keep in her own home. Her training is in furniture-making proper — joinery, timber selection, finishing — and it shows in the restraint of the pieces: no ornament that isn't structural, no shortcut in the joint that a hand plane could have caught.

Tania Fiuzie makes furniture the slow way, one piece at a time, in a small EU atelier where the loudest sound is usually a hand plane. What sets her work apart is simple: she works her own walnut — timber she owns, designs around, and shapes entirely by her own hands, from rough board to signed surface. She came to it through family: her grandparents' orchards held old Persian walnut trees, Juglans regia, and some of that wood — lawfully hers, gifted and inherited, milled and dried over years — still passes through her hands today, the clean route by which Persian walnut reaches her with no money ever flowing to Iran. Alongside it she selects European and American black walnut board by board. She cuts her own joints and signs nothing she would not keep herself. One of the people who built this house, she would still rather talk about the wood. Her pieces are made to be used hard and handed on: gallery-worthy in their making, built for a life of dinners, letters, and long ordinary evenings.

EU atelier

She won't put her name on a piece she wouldn't be willing to live with herself.