On a hot August morning, sunlight pools across a warm-toned teak dining table in Harold Greene’s backyard in San Pedro. The table, which Greene built, has a long bench on one side and two handmade chairs on the other, all resting on a wooden deck he also built himself.
Nearby, his signature Soliarc Chaise Lounge basks in the sun. Past a blooming gold medallion tree, and and at the end of a path of spaced concrete tiles, there’s a shed with a seafoam-green door that houses the heart of his life’s work. Inside the 250-square-foot woodworking studio is where Greene has spent more than four decades shaping his legacy.
From personal pergolas and dining tables to commissioned benches — even a bridge for the Descanso Gardens — Greene has built a life in custom, handmade furniture.
“It’s like this obsession — finding a piece of wood and making something out of it,” Greene said, sitting in the small, tool-lined studio with guitars in progress hanging beside sun hats and slabs of wood. “Every piece of wood has a life.”
The Harbor City native has made furniture since the 1970s, but his earliest memories of crafting go back to childhood. He’d rummage for wood scraps behind a neighborhood factory with his brother and make toy cars and bows from reeds they collected.
Greene had woodshop class in seventh grade and was a natural, but without a similar class in high school, the hobby slipped away until college.
At Los Angeles Harbor College in Wilmington, he studied art, design and architecture with an emphasis on interior design, along with music. In his first apartment, he realized the furniture around him could be better, so he started building tables and stands of his own.
Friends who visited would notice the pieces and ask if he could make something for them too. Before long, Greene was selling his work at local swap meets and taking the craft more seriously, teaching himself the techniques that would shape his career.
During these early years, before taking up woodworking full time, Greene was also a musician. He played bass and sang backup vocals with bands around L.A., including the R&B group Magnum.
Naturally, he’s made instruments too. Greene said the beauty and tone of an instrument come from the species of wood used, and both matter greatly. For guitars, he favors swamp ash for the body — “not too dense, not too thin” — and curly maple for the necks. The ripples in the grain, he said, help notes linger longer.
For several years, furniture was something he did on the side. It didn’t come close to paying his rent. So when Greene was accepted into the L.A. City Fire Department, he took the coveted and stable job.
His first year with the fire department left him with no time to build, and he began to miss woodworking deeply. “I felt like I was at a crossroads because I didn’t know if I wanted to continue as a fireman … the best job you could possibly have,” Greene said. “Or go back to doing furniture.”
He chose the latter, deciding he didn’t want to be a firefighter with a “thing on the side.”
“It was kind of like a leap of faith,” Greene said. “I don’t regret it.”
Those early years were hard. Greene scraped by, often taking odd jobs and working long hours to meet deadlines. He took on street fairs, gallery shows, commissions — anything to get his work out. Slowly, the years of scraping by gave way to stability.
One of those clients — one who kept calling back — would go on to shape some of Greene’s most ambitious work.
Ken Pellman, Greene’s longest-standing client, first commissioned a small knickknack display 30 years ago. Soon after, Greene’s work filled nearly every room of his former Palos Verdes home: lamps, shelves, an altar, an armoire adorned with a lotus flower.
“I look at it every day and I see something new,” Pellman said about the armoire. “It makes me so appreciate life.”
The two collaborated closely. Greene brought the craft, and Pellman brought the ideas.
The most striking piece Greene made for Pellman was a Japanese-style pergola that he used as a teahouse. The project was a challenge from the start. The city would only permit one post in the ground, not two. Greene reimagined the structure’s engineering. It became not only a feat of design but also a favorite of Greene’s.
Even after Pellman moved to an apartment in San Pedro, he brought much of Greene’s furniture with him. However, the beloved pergola was left behind, nestled in the yard of his former home.
Another client, Dr. Venu Divi, a San Pedro ear, nose and throat specialist, first hired Greene to design wood paneling for his office.
“He’s a complete master of his craft,” Divi said.
Greene believes furniture has a story to tell — that every piece of wood has a life: where it grew, what it endured and what it eventually becomes. Wood, he said, has also told the story of his own life.
His wife, Kathleen Seixas Greene, has watched his craft evolve over their 43-year marriage. “The pieces kind of represent who we are,” she said. “From the toy box for our children to what he makes now, they reflect where we’re at.”
Her favorite is their outdoor table, which Greene crafted from leftover teak and inlaid with gecko leaves, a nod to her late mother’s favorite plant. The table has become a gathering place.
Greene sets aside time each year to make one piece for their San Pedro home. He has carved jellyfish on closet doors and has etched sea kelp into the front door for his wife, who’s an ocean swimmer.
Before Greene starts sketching and building a new project, he spends time visualizing it, imaging what it could look like. “Ideas — they’re out there, somewhere, trying to grab something that’s in the ether and bring it into three dimensions,” Greene said.
Greene, now in his early 70s, has no plans to slow down. His workload is full. His sketchbook is too. He’s booked for the next year, and he’s thinking about new ideas and preparing to build a larger studio.
“It never gets old,” he said. “Why retire from something you love to do?”
In terms of woodworking, he avoids table saws because they interrupt his workflow, and he favors interlocking joinery for strength.
His material palette is broad but deliberate. Although he occasionally sources wood globally, he prioritizes sustainability through buying from local lumberyards and reclaimed urban timber suppliers. He also salvages fallen street trees or storm-damaged wood.
Among his signature works is the Soliarc Chaise Lounge, a limited edition of 100. On 1stDibs, it sells for $5,000, while his dining chairs go for $3,000 apiece. His sculptural entry doors start at $6,000, and custom dining tables range from $3,000 to $15,000.
Still, Greene values the work more than the sale. “I made a lot of sacrifices for the work,” he said. “I never really let the quality of what I’m doing slip — no matter the cost.”
In recent years, Greene has taken up in-person teaching, so he can pass along his knowledge to students across the country.
“I definitely want to pass on the craft,” said Greene, who has taught at Penland School of Craft in North Carolina, the Center for Furniture Craftsmanship in Maine and Two Rock School of Woodworking in Petaluma, Calif., among others. He’ll teach next year at the Austin School of Furniture in Texas and speak at the Texas Woodworking Festival.
Most days Greene can be found working alone, though he occasionally works with an assistant. He prefers it that way.
“The fuel is the work itself,” Greene said. “There’s not enough time in a day and not enough time in my life to do everything that I want to do.”
Over the years of woodworking, Greene has grown fond of working with particular trees and their aromas. His favorite wood is “hinoki,” commonly known as Port Orford cedar. He said it has the most amazing smell.
But perhaps more than the scent or the shape or the function of the wood is what keeps Greene going: the chance to build something lasting. Not just to be looked at, but something to be lived in, sat in, handed down to the next generation.
“Pay attention to the details, those matter,” he said. “You’re making something that’s going to last longer than you do.”
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