A bench for the threshold. The place in a home where arrival becomes interior, and interior becomes departure.
Soglia begins where the home begins: at the entrance, the hinge between outside and inside. It is a seat for a single, deliberate act: the moment of putting on or taking off shoes. Unhurried. Present.
The form is restrained. Edges are softened with a fine, disciplined radius. Barely perceptible, not decorative. The silhouette is clean and architectural: the refinement of something that does not need to announce itself.
The frame is carved from solid hardwood, dyed deep forest green: a colour that does not shout but settles, like moss on stone. The grain remains visible beneath the matte oil finish. The seat is upholstered in black leather, slightly grained. Firm, taut, with the quiet authority of a material that improves with age.
Across the full width of the backrest runs a single continuous band of hand-finished bronze. Horizontal. Unbroken. This is the Fibula: the signature element of the series that bears its name, borrowing from the ancient bronze clasp used to fasten a garment: a band that holds, identifies, and gives the object its soul. At the centre of the band, the metal widens and resolves into a perfect circle: a disc of polished bronze that anchors the composition and makes the piece unmistakable.
The armrests are classical in proportion: slender, slightly curved, faced with precision-laid woven carbon fibre on their outer surface. Restrained. The carbon is present as an argument, not a spectacle.
The legs are square in section, architectural, upright. Finished in green-dyed wood and fitted at the base with angular bronze caps, each engraved with fine horizontal lines that echo the band in the backrest. Four feet that do not move.
Soglia does not ask to be admired. It asks to be used, every morning, every evening, until it carries the memory of every departure it has witnessed.
