And no, there’s no secret network of furniture merchants with access to shipping containers or warehouses filled with valuable goods. “There’s no magic to it,” confirms Andrew of his process. “Everything is acquired individually,” he says, gesturing at his boggling collection. “I can tell you where I bought that, where I bought those… I mean, there’s hundreds of purchases here.” Andrew spends a significant portion of his time researching the origins of his purchases, scouring catalogues to verify authenticity, and applying his learnings to a restoration process that honours the intent of the designer or manufacturer. “It’s always running around trying to find a part for something,” he says, or finding an artisan who can make material-specific repairs that reinforce quality and prolong lifespan. “Pricing is tricky. I always think my things are worth more than I sell them for, because I think they really are, but I have to look at what people are prepared to pay.”

There’s something eccentrically romantic about the fact that this collection of objects, originally from disparate corners of the globe, are all sourced in South Africa. Each piece has had a life in this country before it arrives at The Space Agency, where it is either restored, refurbished or reappraised by Andrew before being sold into a new space. The idea of inanimate objects metamorphosing as they move through the world adds further depth to the pun that is The Space Agency: “I’m an agency for your space, right?” Andrew explains. “And it’s a play on the idea of NASA, American 1970s vintage, the space shuttle and, you know, an idea of the past.” Andrew does love a pun: “I’m probably better than you at dad jokes. I tell the worst ones.” —