BEHIND TCA DESIGN
TABLE
TABLE FOR HELVETIA
It stands there,
not merely as furniture,
not as function,
but as a promise.
A promise made of light, line, and air.
A table,
not built,
but born –
from the idea of service
and the dream of space.
It does not simply hold glasses, papers, hands,
but conversations, silence, decisions.
It holds Helvetia –
the idea of order, of precision,
the silent strength of mountains,
the clear language of form.
And yet,
it does not break space,
but opens it –
creating sculptural transparency,
as if one could see through thought itself.
Perhaps a glass table,
but never cold.
A body of lines,
but never rigid.
It speaks,
in the language of respect.
It whispers:
“I am here,
not to rule,
but to serve.”
A table,
designed for people –
not above them,
not beneath them.
At eye level.
It stretches lightly through the light,
its edges sing of precision,
its surfaces breathe generosity.
And between its legs
there is not emptiness,
but possibility.
Between above and below
a space,
where thoughts may rest,
where visions bend and stretch,
like a tree in the wind,
like an idea in the morning.
This is not just a table.
It is a poem
of glass, wood, or steel,
written in the grammar of modernity
and the syntax of Switzerland.
Helvetia reads from it.
And the people
gathered around it
become part of the story
it tells –
again and again,
every day.
TAVOLA
A table.
Not just any table.
A long table – so long it defies the tape measure of the ordinary.
A table for more than 24 guests,
for voices that overlap in laughter,
for glasses that chime like small promises,
for eyes that meet,
for hands that reach across.
Tavola is not a piece of furniture.
It is a stage.
For the opera of life,
for quiet gestures and loud joy.
For shared bread,
for wine that unlocks memories,
for stories
born in candlelight.
Its wood – Panga Panga – comes from the heart of Central Africa.
Dense. Dark. Noble.
It carries the traces of centuries,
and now – placed in a room – it carries the present.
It bears plates, conversations,
and everything said between the lines of a dinner.
And yet –
as heavy as its body,
as deep as its sound,
it is not sluggish.
It floats.
It does not rest – it lives.
It does not fly – and yet it rises.
Because its legs – sculpted from stainless steel –
hold it like a dancer’s legs
balance motion and grace.
Function meets poetry,
stability meets longing.
Tavola is more than design.
Tavola is encounter.
It knows no rush.
It does not ask for time.
Because those who sit at it
are invited – not just to a meal,
but to the moment.
It is built on relationship:
between craft and concept,
between steel and wood,
between people.
The TCA team didn’t just build a table.
They built space.
A space for what remains,
when the light is dimmed
and the last plate is empty.
