Where the wood had separated as it dried, Nakashima had inlaid
butterfly keys to prevent the splits from widening. The keys were made
of contrasting woods--rosewood and oak. Their butterfly or bow tie
shapes became design elements, quasi-geometric signatures. Oliver was
fascinated.
Later, in Deweys, he tried to explain to Mark. "The tables knock me
out. I mean, sure, it's hard to go wrong with a great piece of walnut.
The guy must have gotten every trophy tree in Pennsylvania. But what I
love is the way he treated splits. He repaired them with these
butterfly keys." Oliver made a quick drawing and showed it to Mark.
"The keys _improve_ the look. They add the human touch, so that it
isn't only a beautiful piece of wood--it's a beautiful piece made even
better. He turns a flaw into a strength by acknowledging it, working
with it instead of trying to hide it."
"Righteous," Mark said. "I want one."
"They're all in collections, now. The guy is famous," Oliver said. "I
think that his daughter is carrying on the tradition."
"Must be nice to make something that lasts," Mark said.
"You've got enough money to make things," Oliver said. "You've got an
art degree, right?"
"Yeah, I can draw.
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