About the service
I work in one-twelfth scale, and the first question I ask about any piece is not how it is decorated but whether it is proportioned. One inch stands for one foot, so a dresser two millimetres too tall reads as wrong before anyone can say why. I draw each item full size on paper, set it against a scale figure, and only then cut wood. Ornament comes last and stays modest: a room reads as real because the seat height, the door rail and the thickness of a table top are right, not because every surface is carved.
The case goods are built the way full-size furniture is built. A dresser, a table and chairs get mortise-and-tenon joints cut to size, not butt joints hidden under glue. Drawers are little boxes that truly slide, with a stop at the back so they cannot be pulled out onto the floor; doors swing on pinned hinges. Textiles are chosen for the weight of the cloth rather than the print: fine lawn and silk will take a hem at this scale, upholstery cotton will not. A bed gets a mattress, a turned-down sheet and curtains that hang in folds because the hem is weighted, not starched flat.
Then the small things that make a room lived in: books with titled spines and real text blocks, a basket woven over a form, a clock, a candle with a wick, a tray of dishes. Aging is done in thin washes and wax, layer by layer, so the patina settles into the corners where dirt would gather. The finished room comes as a box display with a papered back wall, a floor laid board by board, and a window lit warm from behind. Any lighting is low-voltage from a ready-made supply, with the wire run in channels cut into the back — nothing improvised from mains power. Glue and varnish work is done with the windows open. Please treat the result as a collector's piece for an adult, not a toy: the parts are the size of a fingernail, a child under three can choke on them, and such a room should not stand in a nursery within reach.
What the work includes:
— a sketch and a full-size drawing agreed before any wood is cut;
— case furniture with real joinery and drawers that open and close;
— bed linen and curtains sewn from cloth chosen for its weight;
— dishes, books, basket, clock, candle and other smalls;
— aging and patina to the depth you ask for, from fresh to well-used;
— a display box with back wall, floor and an optional low-voltage warm window light;
— progress photographs at each stage;
— honest scheduling — this is slow work, and I quote the time it actually takes;
— packing in a compartment tray so nothing travels loose.
The case goods are built the way full-size furniture is built. A dresser, a table and chairs get mortise-and-tenon joints cut to size, not butt joints hidden under glue. Drawers are little boxes that truly slide, with a stop at the back so they cannot be pulled out onto the floor; doors swing on pinned hinges. Textiles are chosen for the weight of the cloth rather than the print: fine lawn and silk will take a hem at this scale, upholstery cotton will not. A bed gets a mattress, a turned-down sheet and curtains that hang in folds because the hem is weighted, not starched flat.
Then the small things that make a room lived in: books with titled spines and real text blocks, a basket woven over a form, a clock, a candle with a wick, a tray of dishes. Aging is done in thin washes and wax, layer by layer, so the patina settles into the corners where dirt would gather. The finished room comes as a box display with a papered back wall, a floor laid board by board, and a window lit warm from behind. Any lighting is low-voltage from a ready-made supply, with the wire run in channels cut into the back — nothing improvised from mains power. Glue and varnish work is done with the windows open. Please treat the result as a collector's piece for an adult, not a toy: the parts are the size of a fingernail, a child under three can choke on them, and such a room should not stand in a nursery within reach.
What the work includes:
— a sketch and a full-size drawing agreed before any wood is cut;
— case furniture with real joinery and drawers that open and close;
— bed linen and curtains sewn from cloth chosen for its weight;
— dishes, books, basket, clock, candle and other smalls;
— aging and patina to the depth you ask for, from fresh to well-used;
— a display box with back wall, floor and an optional low-voltage warm window light;
— progress photographs at each stage;
— honest scheduling — this is slow work, and I quote the time it actually takes;
— packing in a compartment tray so nothing travels loose.