When Toronto-based furniture designer Mary Ratcliffe graduated from OCAD University in 2011, her father asked her the natural question: What are you going to do now? She replied that she wanted to make things, in her own studio, with a few employees. Her father, Walter, a retired investment banker, cautiously pointed out, as any well-meaning dad would, that being an independent artisan doesn’t lead to a good livelihood, so she might want to find a different career path.
“Within two years,” she recounts with a smile, “he was employee No. 1.” After working under some of Canada’s top creatives – architect Johnson Chou, branding agency Bruce Mau and arts studio Moss & Lam (who often collaborate with design firm Yabu Pushelberg) – Ratcliffe started her own shop. She has since designed custom furniture, lighting and wall finishes for an impressive roster of clients, including national advertising agency TAXI and Toronto-based real estate magnate Jonathan Goldman, president of Stafford Developments.
And her dad, it turns out, is a natural fit for her studio. In addition to numbers, he is good with his hands, and helps with the production of her ambitious wood and metal pieces (her first commission was a six metre-tall LED chandelier composed of giant black rings, precariously dangling from razor-thin wires).
In fact, Ratcliffe’s furniture making extends from a shared family passion. Her father grew up on a farm where he developed a love of working with his hands. He started his daughter early too, teaching her to weld when she was 7. “I was a total tomboy,” she says, “I didn’t have friends who played with Barbies.”
Her mother’s brother, who made his own furniture, was also an influence. She has a chest he made at the end of her bed, with careful joinery neatly articulating the corners. “I love that you can see that it’s handmade,” Ratcliffe says. “I want to make pieces like that too, that get passed down.” Her uncle was so obsessed with making things that when he was 70, he even made his own coffin (which, fortunately, he didn’t need to use for another two decades). “He was a bit eccentric,” she says.
Ratcliffe’s own work has an elegant toughness. For example, dining-room tables supported by bright white ash planks that are exactingly fit together, contrasted with blow-torched tops that have a striking black finish. Running one’s hand over the charred remains, it’s clear that the fire isn’t just for shock effect: Burning the wood brings out a texture in the grain, leaving a modulated surface that’s fun to touch.
She also loves working with metal. A coffee table she made for her own downtown Toronto loft (a brick-and-beam, converted factory space with a view of the skyline) contrasts a rough, black steel frame with a glistening marble surface. “I just love how hard and strong metals are,” she says, “but also how shockingly pliable. … You can take a standard piece of steel and do so many things with it.”
She is currently working on a lounge chair with a frame of thin, welded steel tubes that will support a soft seat made from water buffalo hide. Right now, sheets of pinned-together canvas stand in for the leather, but it’s still surprisingly comfortable for something made of steel. Mulling it over, Ratcliffe isn’t quite happy with it. “The frame needs to be a bit bigger,” she explains, so that the legs rest more easily.
It’s those little details that are helping to set her apart, as someone who not only makes beautiful things, but is also growing a sustainable business.