Small Things Done Exceptionally Well: A Warm Evening of Craft, Country and Conversation

The room was softly lit, the wine was flowing, and the scent of timber and cheese was gently floating in the air. We gathered—locals, friends, peers, curious minds—for the first in a new series of conversations I’ve long wanted to host: Small Things Done Exceptionally Well.

I wanted it to feel like dinner at my place. No pretence, no pressure, just people gathering around a shared curiosity: What happens when we slow down and do things properly? What makes a simple thing—like a door, a table, or a piece of cloth—transcend utility and become something meaningful?

The Magic Between the Moments

What delighted me most—perhaps even more than the stories on stage—were the conversations around the room. Before the first words were spoken, guests had already started connecting, wine glasses in hand, chatting over shared experiences in architecture, design, and life. At intermission, people lingered, swapped stories, compared notes, and gathered in clusters as if they’d known each other for years. By the end of the evening, it really did feel like a dinner party, with people reluctant to leave, happily topping up their drinks and continuing the kinds of rich, generous conversations that make these gatherings feel like more than just “events.” They feel like community.

Two Brilliant Guests: Dan Hauptman of Jardan & Barry Bradley of Architectural Hardwood Joinery

We welcomed two truly generous guests. Dan Hauptman, representing Australian furniture icon Jardan, shared how design inspiration is pulled from the Australian landscape itself—light, movement, and the way we live. Barry Bradley of Architectural Hardwood Joinery (AHJ) brought with him the gravity of generations-old timber, reclaimed from Illawarra demolition sites and reborn as exquisite, hand-finished doors and windows.

These two aren’t just businesspeople—they’re stewards. Stewards of craft, of intention, of longevity. Of things that matter.

Slow, Lasting, Local

Dan spoke about the ethos of designing for decades, not seasons. Jardan’s sustainability practices are no afterthought; they’re built into the DNA. From water-based lacquers replacing 2-pac, to offcuts of foam and fabric being repurposed into underlay and preschool craft supplies (“imagine the tan leather scraps those lucky kids are playing with!” he laughed), it’s a model that respects resources and people alike.

One standout? Jardan now designs modular furniture that can be disassembled and repaired over time. “We can literally send out just a new tabletop, or recover your 20-year-old sofa,” Dan said. “It’s not about replacing—it’s about renewing.”

It’s easy to forget that “simple” often means “harder.” That’s a truth I’ve known since the days of cutting bias silk for wedding dresses. A flawless slip dress? One wrong millimetre at the shoulder becomes four centimetres of heartbreak by the hem. So when Dan described how Jardan layers different foam densities into each sofa seat, just to hit that “ahhhh” moment when you sit down? That’s it. That’s small things done exceptionally well.

Timber with a Soul

Then Barry took us to the heart of what it means to honour country through craft. AHJ works exclusively with recycled timber—salvaged from homes built over a century ago with trees from the Illawarra escarpment. “All we do,” Barry humbly said, “is present the timber. It already speaks.”

His team doesn’t just make joinery. They pull nails from heritage beams with their bare hands. They run a solar-powered factory with zero waste. Every offcut, every speck of sawdust, is repurposed. And yet, as Barry reminded us, “Still, 85 to 90% of this timber ends up in landfill.”

That’s not a failure. That’s an opportunity. As designers, architects, clients—we can demand better. We can request reuse. We can preserve what already holds history.

AHJ’s doors aren’t just beautiful. They’re hefty, 54mm thick slabs of living story. “No one else does a door that thick,” Barry grinned. “But we do. Because it lasts.”

Designing on Country

A tender moment came as we explored the concept of Designing on Country. Not just designing in Australia, but with Australia—with respect for its stories, peoples, and rhythms. It’s something I feel deeply. It’s why I believe in eye contact with your builder. In good energy in the walls. In how a space feels.

Dan shared that Jardan is exploring First Nations collaborations, from fabric design to storytelling. And Barry reminded us that every tree he reclaims has already lived a hundred years. “We just clean it up and let it sing again,” he said.

I mean, honestly. What else is there to say?

This Is the Good Work

We ended the night with bellies full and minds stirred. These conversations matter because they reconnect us to care. They remind us that good design isn’t fast. It’s felt. It’s crafted. It carries memory.

We’re not just here to build things. We’re here to build well.

Thank you, Dan. Thank you, Barry. Thank you to everyone who came. For caring. For listening. For sharing the joy in the quiet excellence of things made slowly, beautifully, and with love.

Let’s do it again soon.

— Lisa