Anonymous or is it?

Not every masterpiece comes with a name tag. Some of the most remarkable pieces in our collection were created by unknown hands – but they are far from ordinary. With our founder Andrew Duncanson’s eye for the extraordinary, we continue to uncover anonymous designs of rare quality, craftsmanship, and quiet intrigue. Perhaps your next treasure is hiding in plain sight.

Could it be the choice of material the maker used when designing the piece? Or perhaps the aesthetics, which appear remarkably similar to those of a well-known designer, though not yet documented in the literature? Sometimes the technique is simply too complex and well executed for it not to be the work of a recognised name.

It often begins with material. The choice of wood alone can hint at a maker’s ambitions. During the golden age of Nordic furniture design, fine materials like rosewood – as in the occasional table from the 1960s in Denmark in the picture above – or mahogany and cherry were favoured, not simply for their appearance, but for their ability to endure. Solid wood is a good start, but even a well-applied veneer should be thick and seamless, with no bubbling, peeling, or corners cut – it can impress when done with care.

Construction is equally telling. Joinery methods like dovetail joints – as in the cabinet, Anonymous, Denmark, 1950s/60s, in the picture above – where panels interlock without need for metal fasteners, reveal a maker confident in their technique. Screws and nails aren't necessarily a sign of inferiority, but if the entire piece is simply glued or stapled, it may lack the integrity to last. Weight and balance are also part of the equation. A heavy, grounded frame can suggest thoughtfulness in both design and execution.

Sometimes the form or method feels strangely familiar. In 2013, director Andrew Duncanson discovered a set of anonymous chairs in Finland. “The work and design were extraordinary even in photographs,” he recalls. “But when they arrived in Sweden, they were even better than I expected.” He delayed offering them for sale and began researching. The aesthetic and technical sophistication suggested something more. “I had a feeling they may be a work by Eliel Saarinen. And eventually I found that they were commissioned by the businessman August Keirkner (1856–1918) for the Keirkner apartment in Helsinki.” When Andrew later brought the chairs to the Collective Design Fair in New York in May 2014, they caused a stir – and when the fair was over, the chairs were acquired by a number of different museums, the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston among them.

Provenance, of course, still matters. Labels, stamps, or inscriptions can offer clues about ownership or origin. But when those clues are absent, the object’s true merit lies in how it was built – and how it has endured. A well-worn surface, the original hardware still intact, or an untouched finish – these are the signs of authenticity we cherish.

Honest use, after all, adds richness. It reminds us that furniture, at its best, is lived with. Perhaps your next treasure is hiding in plain sight. It may not come with a famous name attached, but it will hold its own – in silence, in solidity, and in soul.