Three-legged floor lamp: confession of a fanatic - why the fourth leg of my house has disappeared collectively

When I was cleaning last week, I found that all the four-legged furniture in my house suffered from "leg loss syndrome". Coffee table? Three legs. Dining chair? Three legs. Even the doghouse began to be supported by a tripod - yes, I have completely become a believer in three-legged floor lamps.

This morbid obsession began three years ago at the Copenhagen Design Week, when I saw the three-legged lamp welded with recycled steel bars. Its three legs gracefully supported a warm light, challenging the law of gravity like a ballerina spinning on one leg. At that moment, I suddenly realized: four-legged furniture is the arrogance of the industrial age, and the three-legged structure is a love letter to space.

Chapter 1: Stability? No, this is the revenge of geometry

Everyone who has bought a cabinet from a big brand knows the fear - the furniture starts to dance tango before the screwdriver is put down. But the three-legged lamp is different. Its triangular support is a love poem to the physics teacher.

Last week, I deliberately danced the "Sugar Dance" in "Squid Game" at 2 a.m. The light didn't shake, but my cat thought it was an earthquake, just because the Shift Floor Lamp.

Chapter 2: The chassis is the masquerade of lamps

I used to be a loyal fan of the disc base, until one day the sweeping robot got stuck under the lamp base (marble base!!) and let out a desperate whine, just like me trapped in the memories of my ex.

The chassis of the tripod lamp is a space magician:

What can be hidden in the gap: a dusty fitness ring, a three-page plan for 2020, and my final tribute to minimalism

Sweeping robot rating: "It used to be an obstacle course, but now it's a highway"

🔗Chassis invisibility master

Chapter 3: The material is the tattoo of lamps

After ten years of struggling in the lamp industry, I have mastered the skill of "looking at the legs to recognize people" (oh no, to recognize the lamps):

Cold metal legs:
Suitable for matching with exposed concrete walls and craft beer that is always on the third sip. When you cry at "Blade Runner 2049" late at night, it will pretend not to see it. 🔗Baring teeth and claws

Warm log legs:
The best partner is "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" turned to page 18, and the grandmother brand sweater that can never be finished. 🔗Buddhist Youth

Chapter 4: Light and shadow are the grammar of space

The sexiest angle of the tripod lamp is 45 degrees - this posture allows the light to flow slowly along the walnut bookshelf like a needle on a vinyl record, and when you read page 37 of "1984", the reflection of tears will be just right to become poetic.

One day I used Light and Shadow Sculptor to project a triangular light spot on the wall, and my cat suddenly began to perform Egyptian rituals to the shadow. At that moment, I suspected that it was a pharaoh in its previous life.

The ultimate soul torture:

When the tripod lamp becomes the 37th triangular object in your home (yes, I counted it), are you playing with the lamp, or is the lamp taming you?

PS: Last week I tried to install a tripod on the toilet and was warned by the property management. This may be the price of love. (Want to see? I can send you a photo of the toilet on the tripod. I believe you will also fall in love with the toilet, no, the lamp, I love the lamp)