I originally made the Iona Lounger out of necessity.
After moving into my home, I had a much larger space to balance and wanted additional seating that could bring people together without taking over the room. I started with a larger sofa similar in design, but the idea of creating a smaller, more intentional version quickly became an opportunity to explore what a truly comfortable low-profile chair could be.
I wanted the Iona to stay low and understated without sacrificing the kind of comfort you could settle into for hours. Because the chair required less material and had a much smaller footprint than the sofa, I was able to experiment more freely—with different suspension systems, cushion fills, and seating heights—until I found what felt like the right balance.
I lived with each iteration before moving on to the next. For me, that was an important part of the process. If someone is going to invest in a piece without ever having the opportunity to sit in it beforehand, I wanted to know that I had done everything I could to make the experience worth it.
Over time, the chair became more than an exercise in comfort. Its smaller scale also made it a natural canvas for experimenting with upholstery, patchwork, inlay, and other techniques I've picked up across different disciplines. The core design remains quiet and timeless, while the details leave room for the piece to evolve.
That balance is what I keep coming back to with the Iona. It doesn't need to demand attention. Its character comes through in the proportions, the materials, the way it feels to sit in, and the details you notice the longer you live with it.
I originally made the Iona Lounger out of necessity.
After moving into my home, I had a much larger space to balance and wanted additional seating that could bring people together without taking over the room. I started with a larger sofa similar in design, but the idea of creating a smaller, more intentional version quickly became an opportunity to explore what a truly comfortable low-profile chair could be.
I wanted the Iona to stay low and understated without sacrificing the kind of comfort you could settle into for hours. Because the chair required less material and had a much smaller footprint than the sofa, I was able to experiment more freely—with different suspension systems, cushion fills, and seating heights—until I found what felt like the right balance.
I lived with each iteration before moving on to the next. For me, that was an important part of the process. If someone is going to invest in a piece without ever having the opportunity to sit in it beforehand, I wanted to know that I had done everything I could to make the experience worth it.
Over time, the chair became more than an exercise in comfort. Its smaller scale also made it a natural canvas for experimenting with upholstery, patchwork, inlay, and other techniques I've picked up across different disciplines. The core design remains quiet and timeless, while the details leave room for the piece to evolve.
That balance is what I keep coming back to with the Iona. It doesn't need to demand attention. Its character comes through in the proportions, the materials, the way it feels to sit in, and the details you notice the longer you live with it.
