Our history

Edward Wohl (1942-2023) spent over half a century designing and building award-winning studio furniture, earning him a reputation as a premier American craftsman. In 1982 he built a home and wood shop in the pastoral hills of southwest Wisconsin, and in partnership with his wife Ann founded our current studio, Edward Wohl Woodworking & Design. With the help of a small team of highly-skilled craftspeople, Edward produced hundreds of pieces of custom furniture for clients across the globe.

Although he acknowledged the influence of a summer spent in the home and workshop of California woodworker Sam Maloof, Edward always pointed to long-time friend and renowned industrial designer Bill Stumpf as his primary source of learning and inspiration. “We became close friends in graduate school, and later I worked for Bill, making models and prototypes.” Bill was a pioneer in the field of ergonomics, and he encouraged Edward to pursue custom furniture rather than a corporate design job. “I was searching for a career where work and play were indistinguishable,” said Edward.

I make things of wood that I'd like to have myself: functional pieces that are quiet, peaceful, and a pleasure to touch and look at. My approach emphasizes select materials, structural integrity and utility. I like to let the wood do the work — to coax nature to imitate art.

A continuation

Growing up with the wood shop as his playground, Jonathan Wohl learned at an early age the satisfaction of working with his hands. After graduating from the university with a degree in interdisciplinary art and technology, Jonathan spent several years in New York City making performative and sculptural artwork with a tight-knit collective of artists. In 2016, he returned to Wisconsin to start a family of his own and to continue working with and learning from his father, joining the family business with the intention of carrying it forward into the next generation.

Jonathan marries a design sense strongly influenced by his father’s work with a contemporary set of tools and techniques.

I learned so much from my father over the years — about the art of designing furniture and the subtleties of working with wood, of course, but also about how to lead a meaningful life, full of love, laughter, and kindness. It’s a privilege to carry on the legacy of quality craft that he began decades ago.

A Mission Statement, of sorts

I disguise trees.
Fellers trundle them in
slabs, and stack them
crosswise in a darkened waiting room.

I fret and pace: which are the ready
candidates? What shape and function
will console the Cherry, cut forever from
its fruitful reign?

What would the Burr Oak now become,
having been protector and provider for grey
squirrels of distinguished lineage
for (count the rings) so many generations?

Maybe this—no, rather; that—I grieve
Until you call and say you need
a place to sit, to store your Sunday suits
or hold your pots and pans or treasures.

You free my mind so hand and eye can
go to work. The wood and I conspire;
we have to please all three of us. Success
means we all live a little longer.

                        John Ingham, written for Edward Wohl

Observations by another artist

Edward

Through the years I have acquired
all the tools necessary,
though not all I'd like,
and many of the skills to produce
fine things from wood.
I gather them around me,
tools and skills alike,
a museum to the possible.
Every piece designed and executed
demonstrates some flaws
reflecting my impatience to be done.
A craftsman and an artist,
my friend Ed is never through
until his pieces are so perfect
that they look like fairy's work.
So, standing in my shop,
fire snapping, tools in place,
ready to begin a project,
I let the ease of mind approach,
seek the harmony needed for good work,
and say aloud to my little congregation
the morning prayer,
"Fuck you, Ed Wohl."

                                                Nick Hammer