Carved from a single block of onyx, the holder runs long and low — its surface shaped into a continuous wave that rises and falls to seat each bottle on its side, alternating head to toe. The form is resolved and spare, with nothing added to the silhouette beyond what the wave itself requires.
A Sunday gathering, the console set before anyone arrives — a chilled white, a red from the night before, a rosé still to be opened. Each bottle settled in at its own angle, corks at different stages. The stone sits low and steady beneath all of it.