Benji Reyes on the art of carving stories
Wood, in its rawness, is firm and grounded. It’s imposing as it is structural, unyielding as it is immovable—in both presence and form. But in the right hands, it can be crafted into softness, into sweeping lines, into gentle curves that settle gently in any space.
This is what renowned Filipino woodmaker Benji Reyes set out to do. A pivotal figure in the furniture industry, he has redefined the very structure of craftsmanship by bending wood to conform to the very paradox of something solid yet fluid, and functional yet artistic. He has taken the very ethos of furniture making and turned it into an art form—a true craftsman who maintains the slow patience of handcarving in a market of fast production, passing trends, and mass output.
Built from the ground up
Amid the steep, uphill roads of Antipolo stands the magnum opus of his life’s vision: a family home made entirely of reclaimed wood. Every chair, every table, and every cabinet, down to the handles, steps, and doors that shape his space, is proof of dedication and patience, of a collection carefully shaped and assembled by his own hands over the years.
But no home can stand—let alone be built—alone. It took the helping hands of a community, which Reyes has long nurtured through years of collaboration with local suppliers, craftsmen, and students whom he has taught, mentored, shared stories with, and welcomed as friends.
One man’s wood is another man’s furniture
Working with reclaimed wood is no easy feat. It’s a wildcard—unpredictable and hard to work with (hard in general, as Reyes describes). But necessity made it the very canvas for his formative years as a craftsman, one that would shape him as one of the pioneers of reclaimed woodworking in the Philippines.
“When I was new to this, I couldn’t afford to buy ‘good wood,’ [so] I opted to use discarded wood from demolished houses,” Reyes says. “It was a lot cheaper. Though a lot harder to work with, it is far superior to new wood. It is denser, naturally air dried, and the grains are more pronounced.”
This reliance on reclaimed wood was also a lesson on resourcefulness, patience, and respect for materials. “Wood, though ‘sustainable’ through tree farming, is very much abused. Most of the endemic trees that used to blanket our country’s hills and mountains are dwindling, if not, on the brink of endangerment.”
“Thirty-five years ago, I called reclaimed wood a newfound resource,” he adds. “At present, here in the Philippines, reclaimed wood is more expensive than new wood or imported wood, but it is getting harder to acquire.”
Lessons learned and lessons ingrained
Breathing new life into reclaimed wood is more than just turning it into another object. The transformation into something new, something that honors its story, its heritage… it all has to make sense. For the craftsman, sustainability is key, yes, but longevity is just as important. It’s about ensuring that the newly-crafted piece withstands time, use, and the changing hands of generations as time goes by.
Ultimately, it’s about building something made to last.
“Out of respect for my choice of material, the adherence to the principle of ‘Build it once and build it right,’ more so, the fulfillment of being able to create a functional piece that could be used and enjoyed by generations to come has always been a part of my design principle,” Reyes explains.
One of the craftsman’s known works is called the “Salumpwit,” a witty wordplay that brings together “saluhin” (to catch) and “pwet” (butt). This ergonomic chair is more than a comfortable seat—it’s also a lesson on proper posture.
Visually, as all wood pieces are, it looked imposing—but the moment I settled, the chair felt buttery, cradling my lower half with ease.
“The evolution of the ‘Salumpwit’ was born on the idea that, aside from designing a chair comfortable to sit on, it could also coax you into sitting properly to support your lower back,” he explains. How? Through “the hump on the front of the seat.”
“As you slouch unconsciously or begin to slide off the seat, it becomes uncomfortable, and you are reminded to sit properly,” he says. And he’s right.
Built on renewed purpose
Reyes’s works take life in many forms—a bench called “Alon” for its gentle curves reminiscent of waves, sculptures (one of which, made from split narra, is called “Balabal”), cabinets, and more of his Salumpwit chairs and benches. With stories of their own, each one is patiently carved by hand (an art that Reyes says is slowly going extinct), a slow and gentle art that highlights the character of the wood itself.
But there is more to the craft than just carving wood. In Reyes’s words, “symmetry, functional stability, and the aesthetic qualities of design” come into play, too.
“Each species of wood has its specific qualities. Designing a piece—for example, a chair—is like writing a symphony,” he explains. “To be quite honest, I don’t have the exact mathematical computations on the tensile strengths of each of the species we use. [But] the importance of knowing what type of wood to use for each component of a chair makes it more structurally sound.”
For the craftsman, it’s about knowing what he’s working with and “knowing the wood’s characteristics” that he can, for example, “estimate the sizes of a chair’s components for it to be aesthetically balanced.” Because at its core, his work is built not just on shaping material but on giving it a renewed purpose.
“I think the more appropriate word is ‘repurpose,’” Reyes says of his craft. “I designed and started building ‘Tahanan’ (our family home) in 1997. The birth and concept of our Tahanan was from wanting to provide a space that we could call our own for my family.”
For future generations to come
To date, part of the Reyes family home has been converted into a restaurant—aptly called Tahanan Bistro—which gives the space renewed life and purpose while echoing the patriarch’s philosophy of repurpose, sustainability, and longevity.
“Tahanan was [originally] built as a future ancestral house for me, Carina, and our family’s heirs,” Reyes explains, noting a change of plans now that he and his wife are empty nesters. “[But] our daughters now have their own families and are based abroad.”
Nevertheless, the parents maintain an area for themselves past the staircase while building their future space nearby—something that Reyes has been doing all these years: acquiring the surrounding lands, building section by section, and bridging the gap through wooden bridges and glass panels.
“As a designer, I am happy that Tahanan is in its first stage of repurposing,” Reyes says fondly. “Like a working desk that I built 20 years ago and has been repurposed as a dining table for a condo, Tahanan has found a renewed purpose as a place where people can enjoy good food and see my designs.”
This story was originally published in NoliSoli 2026 Issue 1. Read the full story at lifestyle.inquirer.net
