One sheet, and everything on it. You order the first piece
— and the design is only good when what falls out around it is
still furniture. Design for succession: the holes are the stock.
The order
Width0
Depth0
Height0
Seat0
Shelves0
Frame0
The offspring —
It may move your own sizes by a tenth to get
there — twenty millimetres on something you have not built yet is
nothing, and it can be the difference between a chair and a bin bag.
Width0
Depth0
Height0
Sheet 2440 × 1220
Board
Thickness 18 mm
Cutter 3 mm
Slot fit 18.2 mm
How it reads
The order is nested first, so you get the piece you asked for.
What is left is kept as whole rectangles — including the space
under a low part, which is where most of a sheet hides.
Whatever comes next is nested into those holes only. Nothing is
ever cut from fresh board for it, and it hands its own windows on
to the piece after that.
With the grain minded, a load-bearing panel may not be turned a
quarter; a rail may. It is the rule that stops the tool giving away
a chair that would fold up.
Nothing is screwed and nothing is glued. Two boards that meet each
get a slot half way in and slide together — the paper
Christmas tree. Both stay rectangles, so it costs cut length and
no board at all. A shelf therefore runs the full width, slot to
slot, and the back drops in from above and locks the rest.
A side does not have to be a whole board. Open it up and what falls
out is not a hole but a rectangle, and it goes straight into the
stock the offspring is cut from. Cutting out your legs is sawing
your next shelf.
Click a part on the sheet and it is left out; the board it took is
free on the spot. Click the empty space, or press Delete, to put
everything back.
What the cutter ate is counted, in litres and in kilos, because it
is the only thing here that really disappears.