Jensen Bespoke
The Quiet Rhythm of Craft
The Lee Valley industrial estate is a maze of parked vans and moving forklifts, but Jo’s workshop sits tucked quietly at the back. Stepping inside, you leave the hum behind. The first thing you notice is that this workshop is spotless – benches cleared, tools aligned, machines waiting patiently. There’s a mellow rhythm to it, one that belongs to Jo as much as it does to the place. He moves through it with ease, setting the pulse.
“I run a cabinet-making company,” he says, half-smiling. The words sound too simple for what he means. “Joiners make boxes, I suppose. But it’s more than that.”
It started early. His granddad was a cabinet maker, and Jo grew up in that space. “I wanted to do something with my hands, and this just felt right.” He went back to study, worked with his uncle’s kitchen company, and then set out on his own.
It runs deep in the family. One brother’s a woodworker, the other a tree surgeon. Even his dad helped start the FSC certification - before turning against it. Jo laughs. “He thinks it’s a scam now. Typical.”
Dinesh and Josh gather by the workbench. Coffee in hand, with the low hum of the yard outside.
His mornings start with coffee and design work. “Emails, meetings, putting out fires. Then we get the CNC going and get on with it. Every project’s different. The challenge keeps it alive.”
When asked what his granddad taught him, Jo doesn’t pause. “That it’s an honest living, a good way of life.”
Dinesh nods as he works in near silence at the back, coaxing varnish over the pieces that soon will resemble a bespoke-designed bathroom vanity. Each stroke made with an expert’s passion. The surface catches the light as he moves. Nearby, Josh is sanding down a bar unit for a client from one of Jo’s latest collaborative designs. The air hums with the low rasp of sandpaper and the faint scent of oil and timber. Between them, there’s no need for words. Just the rhythm of craft.
He made Jensen Bespoke official in 2017. Before that, it was just him - wardrobes, kitchens, anything that came through. “It’s been growing ever since,” he says.
Now the days are full. He tries to keep weekends for family. “Would be nice to spend a Saturday making something for myself, maybe a media unit. Or an engraved sign. Something detailed. I kind of get annoyed doing that sort of thing - but it’s satisfying.”
There’s pride in what he does, but no ego. “You know when you’re working with someone who really cares, it just works better. We’ve got a good balance here. Everyone’s aiming for the same thing - do a good job, make it look right, make it last.”
He shrugs. “You make mistakes. Everyone does. But that’s how you get sharper. Each job teaches you something new. You come out of it a bit better than before. That’s what keeps it good.”
Ask what sets Jensen Bespoke apart and he keeps it simple. “We make the process easy. We’re open. Not precious. Not threatened.”
He laughs when money comes up. “If you want to be rich as a woodworker, start as a billionaire.”
Thinking back to his grandfather’s bench. “It’s good, you know? To provide for my family doing the same work he did. Feels right. Would be nice if my daughters took an interest too. Be good to see more women in the trade.”
When I ask what part of the job feels best, he doesn’t hesitate. “The finish,” he says. “Seeing it all come together. Going back after install, seeing how it sits in the space. That’s when it makes sense.”
He looks up, resting his hands on a spotless bench. “You hope people see quality, intention. Like it was always meant to be there. And then there is the wow factor - when they walk in and just say wow.”
“That’s the best bit. When they say it’s better than they expected. That’s when you know you’ve done it right.”
Check out Jo’s work at www.jensenbespoke.com
