Each collection is a starting point, not a product. We take its foundation — the proportions, the joinery, the stone — and build something entirely new around the way you want to live.
A reinterpretation of the classic English shaker, built for a listed Georgian rectory in Burford. Deep navy hand-painted doors, reclaimed oak worktops, aged brass handles forged by a smith in Stroud, and a hand-glazed splashback in broken white.
The heart of the kitchen is an eight-foot central island, built around a six-oven Everhot. Every handle is different — a gentle in-joke between us and the family.
The brief was a single word: "disappear". A minimal, flat-fronted kitchen in rift-sawn oak, with integrated appliances, a concrete-textured composite worktop, and push-latch doors. No handles, no clutter, no visible storage.
The island — if you can call it that — is a single piece of honed limestone, poured over a walnut framework that looks like a piece of studio furniture. It took our workshop nine weeks alone.
A thatched-cottage renovation with low ceilings and three doors leading directly into the garden. We kept the ceilings low on purpose, painted the cabinets a soft sage, and built a breakfast nook around the back window that catches the morning sun in October.
Open shelving above the range for hand-thrown Cotswold pottery. Carrara marble below. Brass taps by Perrin & Rowe. Half the kitchen is outside, as it should be.
"The difference between a Beechwood kitchen and the last three we priced up is simply the difference between furniture and fitted units. There is nothing else to say."
That's the only promise we make. Every Beechwood kitchen is entirely its own.
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