A line drawn across wood. A surface that knows its centre.
The meridian is the line that divides. North from south, morning from afternoon, before from after. Meridiano takes this idea and makes it furniture.
The table surface is solid hardwood: long, wide, chosen for the continuity of its grain. Along its exact centre runs a single inlaid line of hand-finished bronze: narrow, flush, precise. This is the meridian. It does not divide the table functionally. It divides it conceptually, introducing an axis that makes the surface feel measured, intentional, resolved.
The base is four legs in square-section steel, set just inside the outer edge of the top so that the table presents as a single unbroken rectangle when viewed from any angle. The legs end at floor level without caps. The steel is the material decision, unadorned.
Seen from above, the bronze line reads as a seam through which the wood was joined. It was not. It is the opposite: an interruption introduced with purpose, into a surface that was already whole.
Meridiano does not announce itself when you enter a room. But when you sit at it, you feel the decision behind it.
