The relationship we establish since childhood with the drawing or writing material is usually regulated by the adult world. In general, normative hazards and random senses of order, hygiene, ecology and productivity operate. Many children are not allowed to use a notebook by opening it for the page they choose, they are advised, and even forced to start with the first page (western reading mode) and fill in that order page by page without give rise to other provisions or successions. It is not worth skipping the pages or filling them in a random or non-sequential way, it is not worth putting the notebook horizontally or starting it at the end as they would in Japan, it is not worth mixing fonts, pens, markers or pencils that do not conform a coherent set or well presented, it is not worth experimenting or testing, it is not worth rambling in free scribbles or associations, it is not worth tracing, crossing out, nor wasting time or paper. It is not worth inventing.
The sketch table emerges from this frustration regarding the sacred use of the material. A relationship that is stingy and closed and that does not allow to open other spaces or gestures. A relationship that sows the fear of error and, therefore, little confidence and security regarding thinking with your hands without giving any importance at the end. The design of the bloc table has, on the one hand, a circular format that avoids the orthogonal corners of the dinA paper to which we are so accustomed and that orders our thinking from top to bottom and from left to right. On the other hand, he returns to the idea of a notebook, a block, a large and fat stack of papers where the use of them relieves the pressure to be registered. The sketch table detonates scribbles that orbit eccentrically and make up completely different realities. The size and shape of the table, in addition, enables collective drawing, where you can share the sheet, play with it and pass it rotating from hands to hands.