Most households need a table for six on an ordinary night and for ten or twelve a few times a year. The hard part is a table that does both without looking like it is waiting for the extra guests. Sand is our answer.
An old detail
Fluting, a run of shallow concave channels cut along a surface, is one of the oldest ornaments in architecture. Greek builders cut twenty flutes into a Doric column and twenty-four into an Ionic one. Its counterpart, reeding, reverses the profile: convex ridges instead of channels.
The flutes were never only decoration. They catch light and shadow in narrow vertical bands, which makes a column read as rounder and lighter than a plain shaft of the same size, and they carry the eye up and away from the horizontal joints between drums of stone.
Why it suits a pedestal
A pedestal gathers a great deal of mass at the centre of a table. Left plain, that mass reads as a block. Fluted, it breaks into lines of light and shade, and the base looks lighter than it is, for the same reason a column does.
Sand stands on two of them. Two pedestals rather than four legs keep the ends and corners clear, so a chair slides in anywhere along the table, the leaves included.
A quartersawn apron
Under the top, a curved apron follows the shape of the top and the base. It has to hold that curve through humid Michigan summers and dry, heated winters, so it is quartersawn.
Wood moves with the moisture in the air, and not evenly: along its growth rings it moves roughly twice as much as it does across them. A quartersawn board is cut so the rings run steeply through its face, between sixty and ninety degrees, which means less movement across its width, less cupping, and a part that stays true. In white oak the same cut exposes the medullary rays that run out from the heart of the tree, the soft ribbons of figure known as ray fleck.
How it extends
Closed, Sand is six feet long and seats six. The top parts at its centre and two eighteen-inch leaves set in, bringing it to nine feet: room for ten, or twelve who know each other well.
One note on living with leaves. Store them flat and inside the house, not in a garage or a basement. White oak mellows in light and moves with the seasons, and leaves kept in the same rooms as the table age and move alongside it, so they still match when you need them. Using them now and then helps too.
In a modern room
Sand takes the most classical detail we know and sets it under a mid-century form. The oblong top has no corners to catch a hip in a tight dining room, the pale oak keeps the room light, and the flutes give the eye somewhere to rest. It works because the reference is old enough to feel calm rather than fashionable.