The designers held the depth to twelve inches so the console works where furniture usually cannot — a tight hall, a landing, the wall behind a sofa. An artisan picks the teak slab for its edge line, shapes the base by hand, and oils the top to a warm satin. One slab, full thickness, no veneer wrapped over a hollow core.
No two slabs carry the same edge, so the console you receive is the provenance of your piece, not a match to a screen. The board is dried twenty days before a cut is made, its movement finished in the kiln rather than in your hallway. Guests touch the bark line before their coat is off and ask; you say it is one board, and enjoy saying it.