It has been conveyed to me, from the staff in my store even, that there haven’t been enough of these personal entries or updates posted that we periodically put together for our website.

In truth I have been hearing from customers, friends, and bloggers for many months about the need to stay current, connected, and focused on social media especially. This is how it is today, I am assured. Technology is the essential way of reaching clients and serving our design community. People search for goods and shop online. Everyone expects access to everything, anyone can post an opinion, and we are all part of a modern social mindset that shares, exchanges, and reacts to information instantly and changes direction like a flock of starlings through the internet. We need to be wired to be seen, much less to be counted. We are not tapping into the audience that is waiting for us in this space. If only I would be a designer who would post more on Facebook or Twitter, or bundle my goods on more design websites, or renew my own website, or even appear on TV, the argument goes, we would grow, expand, evolve with the times…survive.

the Aero Store gallery on Broome Street, NYC

I am honored that customers want to visit us online. I know that many of you, both in the trade and the public, would like to be able to buy our goods here. I agree that we can do better with the functionality and flexibility of our website. It’s always been my aim to have a very welcoming and useful web address that is as special to visit as Aero itself is. And new, big changes are being considered as I write. There will be a shop at some point, maybe a long time from now, maybe sooner. We are working on it.

But, I will also say that I resist the pressure to join the online worlds of commerce and commentary because, in principle, they are counter to what my store and business are about. Gracious customer relationships in person still matter, particularly in the sale of luxury and design goods. And the problem is as much about how clients are using design and designers today as it is a matter of our outreach. I use the internet as much as anyone for information, but immediacy and information will never be the same thing as ideas and service. Convenience is not a substitute for craft. Still this is the trend, and it is unsettling.

a view through the back of the gallery

I was interviewed recently by prospective clients for a new project, and their approach unfortunately was just what I’m hearing when I speak to other designers and visitors in the store. What is the discount? Can you match the price of this sale website? Can you show me ten or twenty more coffee tables, sofas, carpets? These are the things being asked of so many designers I know, in fact all throughout our community. We are essentially expected now to be resourcers or agents, where clients feel they can come to simply research shoppable furniture and objects before buying the furnishings themselves. I see so many people and businesses struggle these days because everyone is concerned with getting a deal first and foremost. Clients are making this mistake with their designers. In essence they miss the point, because what we do as designers is not clickable. It is the presence of a thought process beyond the consumerism of an object, full of detail, trial, layers, and interrelationships, that you can’t isolate on even the most striking app or screen.

two vignettes from the earliest days of Aero at the Spring Street location

The designer’s job today is to coax interest back toward the understanding that sourcing alone is not design. I am reminded of a recent interview by Jeffrey Bilhuber in House Beautiful that I liked very much and have referred to again and again, in which he talks about his role as a decorator: If someone comes to ask for a pink lamp, he explains, his job is to say, what about this antique blue and white Delft lamp in this pink room? Design is about the big picture. A point of view. We are here to make 1+1 = 3. The interview made me stop and think again that design can be about budgets and collaboration, but it must also be about originating new perspectives for our clients.

Democratization of design is real and it is modern, as more people become empowered to choose handsome things to live with. I am aligned with this reality in my business, where I can focus on my own store and the products I design, as well as the wonderful partner companies I work with. But I will still resist a certain kind of interior consumer. I will say no to my team, who will argue that every job is a good job. I will insist on creating work that is about an idea, not just a price. It is not in my nature or my company’s interest to try to cast my net to reach everyone, everywhere.

the Aero conference room, my Studio design hub

Aero is a studio, first and foremost concerned with design and with making things – a set of very good, real things that can be taken home and enjoyed in an individual way. I have built and maintained a special New York store to hold many of these things. Aero has lasted through many neighborhood changes and trends and is celebrating its 20th anniversary this year. There is only one of this place in the world, which is its own rarity these days.

I hope that Aero delivers what more and more people crave today – a true neighborhood haven, a quality establishment, a place to return to and to rediscover each season. This is, interestingly, the gold standard in restaurant culture, and an approach I wish more stores could follow. In New York I have been going for years to Café Luxembourg uptown, in my neighborhood: a gem, a survivor, and still a place unknown outside a certain cognoscenti. There is an authenticity to it that I find in all the stores and haunts I love. I want Aero at 20 years to be known this way, even around the world, as a special and unique place that is still here to be found.

this large folding screen has been with Aero from the beginning

In a time when stores are closing left and right, we do survive and we find our way. There is still a reason to see goods in person, to judge their material, their craft, their three-dimensional presence. Real connection in a real and individual store or gallery is the necessary counterbalance to the world of virtual socializing and shopping. And real contact will always be the best way to experience design. My friend Bunny Williams emphasizes the difference between looking at a picture of a table and actually standing in front of that table, able to touch it and talk to someone who knows its history. All of this creates the substance and soul for us around the things we acquire. This is why I came to New York to go to art school, why I work in this field. I still value the knowledge of the dealers, artisans, and scholars I work with, and I try to pass on that knowledge. They are the human element. The presence of someone’s original idea and hand remains vital, and relevant.

As I reflect on our 20th anniversary, I’ve begun to look back on what has made Aero thrive and grow over the years. I believe our longevity comes at least in part from our truly local nature, and our intentionally quiet profile. We are still a place to be discovered. I believe there is ever-increasing value in that today. Design here is not about fulfillment and speed. It is about crafting a world of ideas and tailoring them for those of you who have come to find us.

late afternoon before Aero’s opening party, October 21st, 1992

This is the subject of my next book, as it happens – a survey back to the beginnings of Aero, and of the particular world we have been able to create there. I still believe in the art of the physical book, the handwritten note, the yearly holiday card, the independent store. I think others do, too. It is not nostalgia; it is a bet on what is lasting even as technology changes the delivery. Blogs may compete with magazines, and iPads and Kindles may draw an increasing number of readers, and the balance is rapidly shifting, but you still need the writer, the photographer, the editor. So it is in our industry. You still need the designer, the architect, the merchant.

In sifting through years of material for the book, I see for certain that we have continued to change and evolve, but in the sense of always testing our own design instincts. We have never followed the crowd. I opened Aero far downtown in Soho; I focused on a store when others focused on interiors. I have never been driven to do what others have done beside me. My challenge has always been to find a different way. And sometimes the new way is to be found in a reappraisal of the most honest, beautiful old ingredients. It’s what we do with those ingredients that becomes the intriguing next chapter.

an early view of the window on Broome Street

So, I invite you to watch our progress here. We may surprise you. I am not beyond the irony of this essay itself being communicated and perhaps shared online. But more, I would ask you to unplug and go out into your neighborhood to your favorite shops. Come down to Soho, if you haven’t been or haven’t visited us in a while, to see what is both old and new at Aero. Call the store and enjoy a conversation with an interested, knowledgeable staff member. We are having our annual winter sale starting on February 17, and as the kick-off to our anniversary year, it will be full of very special objects, early studio samples, classic Aero pieces, and other saved mementos from our history.

I recently received a fine printed catalog from one of my favorite antique silver dealers, SJ Shrubsole, located on 57th Street here in New York. In the introduction, the proprietor, Eric Shrubsole, tells a charming story about his parents. His mother would visit his father’s shop in London on occasion, and “from her perch of serene ignorance” she would claim surprise that he still had this or that old thing, orphaned and unsold. His father would answer in exasperation that yes, he still had this thing, and that thing, and that thing, and if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have a business anymore. Many decades later their son concludes, “My point is that inventory is the proof of a great dealer. We buy what we love; we wait for someone to love it as much as we do.”

That is as good a reason to be in business as any I can think of. We are here at Aero keeping faith with what we love.

Thomas, my large-scale handprint portrait by friend and artist Gary Schneider, 2007. At Aero.

(Photos 1-3, 6, and 10 by Michelle Arcila)

From the framer to the store…

The fun and challenge of having a new batch of framed artwork at Aero is deciding how to display it. As discussed in the previous story, I had a group of photographs by Michelle Arcila framed to sell at Aero. I often have a general idea ahead of time of how the pieces may be grouped together and where they may be hung, but there is always some amount of improvisation after seeing the finished framed art in person. I work with my creative merchandising team to come up with fresh ways to display the new pieces, and the arrangements frequently change as the art is sold.

The dark frames of this group immediately grab your attention as you approach the stairs to Aero’s downstairs gallery. They work well together, and the asymmetrical arrangement keeps the group from looking too formal.

We have a system of custom hanging rods at Aero that allow for movable display along the brick wall.  Though the art at the store is often shown in groups, this large, moody piece feels nice hanging on its own.

I removed one shelf from my Marielle Bookcase for Hickory Chair in order to display a framed photograph.

Art can often help dictate what should surround it.  This piece is by my long-time friend, artist Laura Resen.  The cool colors and gilded silver frame are complimented by the grey finish on the cabinet, and they draw in the other light, silver accessories.

Art of many different mediums, framing styles, and sizes can all be drawn together in a gallery-style grouping.  I initially began hanging art this way in my apartment, and naturally the style made its way into my store.

To my apartment walls…

As my personal art collection began to grow, it became an important driving factor in the style renovation of my apartment – from minimal to maximal. The walls are mostly full now, and restyling my large bulletin board allows me to keep the mix looking fresh, but I still occasionally have the inspiration to add another piece to the more permanent wall display.

I recently acquired an aquatint by Robert Motherwell in beautiful amber and cream colors.  It has a prominent vertical character that helps anchor a higher point on the wall.

On the portrait wall opposite my bulletin board I added several new pieces, including beautiful works by Wilhelm von Gloeden and Paul Cadmus.  And to change the overall rhythm I’ve also included two enlarged and abstracted prints of fingerpaintings by my goddaughter, Tessa. Here you can see the pieces gradually being added and shifted around the wall until the right balance is found.  To learn more about how this portrait wall originated, and how I select and place artwork for clients’ homes, you can visit this Design Study on living with art.

Hanging ideas don’t always have to become reality. I toyed with adding two pieces to the wall above the terrace door, but I in the end decided to leave it as is.

A wide view of the portrait wall:

For a simpler vignette, I leaned this oil painting on top of the dresser between the tall windows. As a lone piece it makes a strong statement. I purchased this particular painting from Joel Mathieson, one of my favorite antique dealers in New York – and the person from whom I bought my original Emma Chairs.

Finally, having the tall ladder on hand afforded us the opportunity to capture this unique perspective on the apartment, in the midst of an art installation.

I have always loved the job of curating an art collection – in my personal life, at the Aero store, and for my clients’ homes.  It is a process that takes years, searching for those special pieces that one by one help create a unique personal statement.  My own collection has come from a wide variety of sources: pieces found at flea markets blend with works by Man Ray and Francis Bacon, and prints from vintage art books sit next to my own photography taken on vacation.  My apartment in New York City and my home on Long Island have both gone through various stages of display, and I am constantly editing the assortment based on new ideas or a new favorite piece. Yet for all of the care I have put into collecting the art and deciding how it is displayed, I have paid equally as much attention to how each piece has been framed.

Framing is often overlooked but should be considered with a keen eye, as every piece of art has a different character. The size, color, and style of the frame can all help enhance the strength of the artwork as well as compliment its mood. A few times a year I take a group of pieces to one of my favorite framers – located in Greenpoint, Brooklyn.

An exterior view:

Some of the many frame profiles at the studio:

Traditional and modern samples:

Vintage wood finishes:

I first like to browse through all of the frame samples for styles and shapes that I feel drawn to.  There are certain favorites I have at the studio, but I always like to consider new options.

We then lay a group of the pieces out to see which frames will work, and how they might complement each other.  This group is a series of photographs by Michelle Arcila, whose pictures I first discovered when she worked with me as my assistant.  Some of these are for my personal collection and some are to be sold at Aero.  There is a sense of wonder and mystery that I love about Michelle’s work, and I’m always curious to see her new photos.

The complementary process to choosing the frame style is to choose the size and color of the mat. For new works I gravitate towards a clean white mat, but for vintage pieces I may opt for more of a slightly aged, parchment color.

A few frame options are placed right on the edges of the photo to give a true sense of the end result:

A selection of stains and finishes:

I ended up giving this photograph a thin black frame with a strong shadowbox-like depth and clean right angles.  The result was graphic and striking, and the picture only lasted a couple weeks on the wall at Aero before being sold.

Often, I tend to favor white and lightly gilded frames that lend a sense of freshness and a crisp,
modern feeling.

But sometimes, a more traditional frame feels right.

For my private clients, art is often acquired from auction already in a frame. Part of my responsibility is to choose a new frame that suits the client’s personal aesthetic and interior design style.  I often have in mind the specific place in the home where the new piece will hang, and I choose the frame accordingly, based on other pieces of nearby art, the wall color, and surrounding furniture.

An abstract piece in a Lucite case takes on a different character when paired with a more pronounced, gilded frame:

This is a beautiful series by the artist David Smith that was a pleasure to find matching frames for:

Finally, a look behind the scenes at the studio’s woodshop, where all of the materials are stored and where the frames are made.

In my next story, I’ll show the end result of many of the pieces shown as well as explain how I go about choosing pieces for my own home. For more examples of art and framing, and some thoughts on hanging groupings of art, you can see excerpts from my book, American Modern, in our Design Study section at aerostudios.com.

I’ve been collecting celestial maps, lunar prints, and assorted other astronomical materials for years, and one of the first pieces I ever bought was this inky-blue Rand McNally Star Chart that I acquired while antiquing in Millerton, New York. I think it cost me 75 dollars at the time, as I remember hanging onto the its tag for the longest time. It is likely from the 1940′s and was a true academic instrument, but I also saw it as a modern object with its deep coloration and circular shape. There is something special to me about it being a chart of the Northern Skies, as it represents a true view of the night sky above the Upstate New York region where I grew up.

Until recently revisiting these pictures, I had forgotten that I used to have the Star Chart simply tacked on the wall. Here it is seen in the bedroom of my first apartment in the city, with my pets Emma and Daisy.

This chart has always been in my bedroom, as there is something dreamlike and almost magical about having the constellations and night sky near the bed. When I moved to my current apartment I originally kept the rooms very spare, and I kept the art leaning on the walls; almost nothing was hung. Along with restoring the original Emma Chairs, framing the Star Chart was one of the specific things I did for the move.

When I moved my bed into the large room in my apartment, the Star Chart held a temporary place over my Wooton desk, near the daybed in the room.

Ultimately the chart felt better near the bed, and as I continued to add art higher and higher up the walls of the large room I decided to put the Star Chart high above the bed. This is where it hangs now, anchoring the entire room.

I’m surprised by the amount of attention that the chart has gotten as I’ve moved it around the apartment. It always sparks discussion when the apartment is published, and everyone seems to love it. Some people have even said that they love the chart but that I should move out of the apartment, but of course I love the place and have no desire to do so.

The strong navy of the Star Chart became a thematic color for many graphic and printed materials at Aero, and also influenced my approach to the restoration of my Academy house in Long Island. Choosing to use black throughout the house, seen below on the railings and doors, felt to me like an extension of the chart’s deep navy blue. Around the time I decided on using black paint at the Academy, I came across a great original set of astronomical drawings on beautiful black paper. I had them framed and let them trail through the kitchen and up the stairs:

Here is a tryptch showing the phases of the moon and the cycle of the tides:

Another piece I love is this dark, tealy-blue print of Saturn:

An illustrated map of the constellations, showing the hemisphere where I grew up:

I have also collected books and other astronomical materials over the years, including a Victorian stereoscopic negative of the surface of the Moon. I had an internegative created to make a photographic print of this vintage lunar image. One framed print hangs in my hallway at the Academy, and from time to time we have one printed to sell at the Aero store.

One print used to be pinned up in my office at Aero Studios:

A framed print hangs in the living room of the Academy:

As much as I love the sky and celestial prints of the constellations, I also like globes of the Earth. I have a beautiful vintage globe from the 1940′s at the Academy that became the inspiration for my Academy Pivoting Desk Lamp for Visual Comfort & Co.:

The celestial theme extends to the Aero Store and Studios. Here you can see a large United States Air Force “Lunar Reference Mosaic” that hangs in the conference room:

I do try to find astronomical accessories when I shop for Aero merchandise, and various pieces including black & white globes, clear globes, and even a more playful planetary mobile float throughout the gallery.

This vintage set light, clear & silver globe, and black & white globe are no longer made and have taken on a “not-for-sale” status at the store:

Over the years, I have occasionally looked around but have never found another print of the Rand McNally Star Chart, but I’m always on the hunt for items like this. Apart from their modern, graphic aesthetic, I really do appreciate that they are teaching devices, some of which even came from schools. These objects keep a thread of history running through my Academy home and city apartment, and also remind me of when I was very young and first intrigued by the constellations and the night sky.

[photo credits, top to bottom:   Laura Resen - #2-#5, #7, #8, #20, #21.  Michelle Arcila - #24-#29, #31-#33.  All others by Thomas O'Brien, Eugene Corless, or David Christian.]

Twice a year for the past 12 years I have traveled to North Carolina for the High Point Furniture Market, a large international trade show for the home furnishings industry. My first visit introduced me to the market and to the furniture company Hickory Chair. I later developed my first furniture collection for them and have gone back every Spring and Fall since then to help set up and style the showroom. Over the years I have collected accessories from shopping in both New York and North Carolina, and have also developed collections with my other licensing partners: lighting for Visual Comfort & Co., rugs for Safavieh, and tabletop accessories for Reed & Barton. Each of these collections is blended with my designs for Hickory Chair to help create a showroom space that is designed to feel lived-in and peaceful.

Hickory Chair moved their showroom into a new building in Fall 2010, and since then my area has moved to the other side of the showroom. The space changes each market, and there is a constant re-balancing of the more modern and traditional elements of the collections. When we arrive, the furniture is gathered in the rooms and the accessories are stacked high. In short order we organize them all and I begin to choose final placement for all the pieces. These photographs are a behind the scenes look at that work.

A line-up of some of my Terri Lamps for Visual Comfort & Co.

Choosing and placing the rugs – this is my Alba design for Safavieh

I use a collection of accessories and artwork to keep the space feeling intimate and familiar. Some of the items I have been collecting in the showroom since my first launch, and they help create a sense of continuity and history for me:

The Picasso print on the left has been in the showroom from the start.  Here I have it placed in a more modern room, alongside an hourglass from Aero.

The Wind-Swept Harp, a favorite small book

There is a set of steel compasses like this one on the Hallings Secretary that has been around since the beginning.

My collection of framed artwork has also grown over the years, and each piece has a special significance to me. The collection includes prints of patterns developed for Target bedding and other textiles, my own cell phone photographs taken at my apartment and in Central Park, vacation snapshots from Mexico, modern figure drawings, and even finger paintings by my goddaughter. Her paintings have been blown-up and printed at a large scale and have a wonderful abstract quality – they are among my favorite pieces in the showroom:

Here are Tessa’s finger paintings

This framed abstract piece is actually a group of bedding patterns developed for Target.

On the final set-up day before the showroom opens, I style the rooms with flowers and branches that I get shipped from the flower market on 28th Street in New York. They are the finishing touches in the space.

In a way, the showroom is a source of reference for me, as all of my collections and projects inform each other in various ways. A custom-made bed for a client became the inspiration for the 5th Avenue bed seen above, patterns developed for sheets and textiles hang on the walls, and pieces from my very first collections sit beside my newest designs. There is a referencing within the world of all of it that keeps building the new settings, the new designs, and the new spaces.

These two photographs were taken when I was traveling in Mexico.

The framed image of the Greek bronze claw-footed table on top of the secretary inspired the base of my Veneto Hall Chair for Hickory Chair.

Here my Tiago collection for Reed & Barton sits inside a classic Aero tray.

[Click here to browse the complete Thomas O'Brien Collection for Hickory Chair.]

Many years ago in the early days of Aero, I was visiting one of my favorite shops – Joel J. Mathieson Antiques in SoHo – and came across a unique set of three very old Chippendale-style side chairs.  They had many finely carved details, an elaborate fretwork pattern, a beautiful ornamental paint and velvet seats that all suggested a very fine craftsmanship.  However, parts of the chairs were also quite literally collected in a pile of scraps.  The backs were broken in many places, springs were poking out, and the loose fragments were all jumbled together like puzzle pieces.  There was something charming and special about the set, so I purchased them and ended up using two of the chairs as props in the Aero store and keeping the one in the best condition at my old apartment. Here is an early shot of it at my desk:

The idea of restoring these three chairs didn’t seem necessary to me until I moved into my current apartment.  I was keeping the walls bare and the large room sparsely decorated, but I knew I wanted something special to stand next to the modern aluminum and walnut table I had in the archway.  The chairs seemed like the perfect choice, so I had them fully restored and reupholstered in an artist linen that I had been keeping around. They ended up not only becoming a focal point of the apartment, but also serving as the inspiration for my Emma Chair for Hickory Chair – the piece that helped launch my very first furniture collection.

When I decided to rethink my apartment and move the bed into the large room and create a kind of artist studio, a lot of changes started taking place.  Art started filling up the walls and a few more significant pieces of furniture made their way into the room: a Nakashima dining table, a John Dickinson side table, a pair of Deco chairs, and my Hallings Secretary for Hickory Chair all came together and changed the character of the room.  It was a hard decision to make, but I decided to send away the original Emma chairs to make room for something new.  For a short while, a George III-style mahogany side chair held the space in front of the Hallings:

However, another visit to Joel’s shop ended up giving the answer. I had bought many items from Joel since the three original Emma chairs, including many pieces of art now hanging on my walls and the ancient Celtic Bust that stands next to my apartment’s large windows. He had an Irish side chair dating to 1750 that immediately drew me in with its size and scale. It was in rough shape – a back leg was broken and the orignal tufted cushioning was coming apart, but it was definitely salvageable.  The fact that its heritage was Irish, like my own, was an added charm.  I had collected many early English and American pieces over the years but not much from Ireland.  Here are two views of it before restoration began:

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I took the chair to an antique refurbisher that I trust – someone who also makes many of the custom pieces of furniture for my private clients and who is an expert cabinet maker and antique restorer on the best level.  I know he truly appreciates the pieces that are brought to him.  The chair was stripped down, the back leg was repaired, and then  its frame and legs were polished, though the original patina was retained.  At Aero, we are always careful to take record of a piece in its original state before restoration so that we can build it back true to its original scale and spirit, even if we are completely rebuilding it.  In this case, all of the original cushioning was carefully saved for the reupholstery phase of the restoration.

I was reminded of the velvet seats of my original Emma chairs and thought about going with a similar color velvet to reupholster the Irish chair.  I had a leftover velvet drapery panel from London that had been with me since the beginning of Aero, and even back to my days at Ralph Lauren.  There is something great about how velvet is perishable, and I loved the color changing and patina of this scrap piece of drapery.  I brought the velvet and the chair to an upholsterer and there was just enough velvet to cover the chair – all that’s left now is the cut-up tail end of the panel:

For the reupholstering, I made sure to stay true to the crispness of the seat and the thin back

of the original.

The chair has a completely traditional form, but the proportions are so fantastic that it feels very current to me.  There are beautiful curves and traditional details, but it has a very strong width.  The pair of Deco chairs I have in the apartment, upholstered in a cream silk velvet, are more modern than the Irish chair but are also more petite and feel more antique to me in that way.

The restoration of the Irish chair was in a way identical to the restoration of the original Emma chairs.  I used scraps – pieces of wood in the case of the Emma chairs and an old piece of velvet in the case of the Irish chair – in order to rebuild something traditional that would compliment and stand out from the more modern pieces in my apartment.  The Irish chair even made it to the cover of American Modern – I’m attached to all of the pieces in the apartment in different ways, and its the particular way the parts and pieces mix in my mind that creates the juxtaposition of the modern and antique.

[photos #1, #2, #16 and #18 by Laura Resen]

[Joel J. Mathieson Antiques & Fine Art: 192 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10013

(347) 595-1655]

This group of silver pieces came from Lawrence Jeffrey Estate Jewelers, one of my favorite vintage vendors in Litchfield, Connecticut.  I’ve picked up all kinds of silver pieces there, from Victorian to pre-turn of the century to more modern styles, and I find that the real stories behind the objects I buy are often as much about the dealer or shop as they are about the pieces themselves. I think the vintage shopping experience is really about the antique shop that you discover or the specialist you find on eBay, and seeing where they can guide you and what you can learn from them. You can visit a trusted dealer and see their edited selection of vintage pieces, and then further edit into the world of things that you are interested in and like to collect. For me, it’s all about finding what is modern in all of these vintage pieces.

[Dominick & Haff Cracker Scoop, circa 1880]

The thing that’s kind of amazing about this piece is its beautifully sculpted handle, almost reminiscent of a crankshaft from a car. If you think about it, even though it is a late Victorian Era piece, a handle like this is also representative of early industrial design of the Machine Age.  It kind of bridges the gap between two eras of design. I also love that it is a true shovel designed to scoop crackers; it’s a humorous idea today but makes it truly unique. I have many other little salt spoons and other pieces that are in the form of a shovel, but nothing quite like this.

[marking on reverse side]

[Steuben Cocktail Stirrer, circa 1930's]

On the other end of the spectrum from the cracker scoop is this 1930′s era cocktail stirrer by Steuben, clearly the most modern piece in the group. I love the spherical form of the bowl, but what’s kind of incredible about it is that Steuben made very little silver.  It’s marked Steuben on the underside, and that’s the special charm of it.

[sales receipt from Lawrence Jeffrey]

[close-up of Steuben marking]

[Sterling Serving Spoon by Hans Hansen, circa 1920]

I don’t tend to like modern things that are very rigid and stiff. The teardrop shape of this Danish piece feels modern to me but also is very refined and organic in its shape and feel. There is a simplicity and elegance here I find to be really beautiful.

[close-up of signature stamp]

[reverse side of the spoon]

[Kalo Hammered Meat Fork and Pie Server, circa 1920]

These serving utensils are two of the most sculptural pieces of silver that I own. The beautiful forms have these antique points on the handles that give off an almost botanical simplicity. The handmade quality really comes through in the feel of the pieces in the hand, and the patina adds to that crafted softness. I actually find them to be among the most useful pieces that I own as well, great for serving all kinds of dishes.

[close-up of the Kalo marking]

[Shiebler Serving Spoon, circa 1880]

This last piece is a serving spoon with a gilt bowl and a remarkable sterling handle that is full of ornate detail, but flattened out almost like a decorative band. The detailed scroll work really sets it apart for me as something modern, and the pattern makes it feel less like a piece of silver and more like something you might see in fabric. Here you can see how the pattern terminates in a flourish at the end:

I had really never seen anything like this piece before, and as my trusted silver shop owner showed me, it represents  the beginnings of modernism in silver design and presents a modern point of view about what pattern can be.

[store photo courtesy of Lawrence Jeffrey Estate Jewelers.]

[my NYC apartment, 1998]

I’ve always loved the idea of the turn of the century artist studio. My tearsheet collection over the years has become filled with images of large-scale workspaces and artist lofts. In 2004, these images became conceptual touchstones for the design of the Aero Store and Studios when we moved to our current location on Broome Street. Here is a recent image of the store, showing the massive scale of the doors leading into the conference room:

In my mind, the tall doors at Aero and the bulletin board at my apartment are not dissimilar.  In fact, the idea for doing the bulletin board grew out of my design ideas for the new Aero space, which focused on both the scale and sprit of an artist studio.  Here are a few examples of how we use bulletin boards in the office:

As I began spending more time at The Academy, my home in Long Island, the living room in the apartment stopped being my main place to relax or entertain.  I was going through a major phase of collecting, and boxes from eBay began to pile up and fill the room until I realized that the space was barely being used.  I knew I wanted to make use of that wonderful, big room, so I decided to convert the living room into a true pied-à-terre, something a little more connected to the Aero store and studio.  The first idea for the conversion was, why not make the living room into the bedroom? In the spirit of an artist studio, the bed was treated as a daybed and the walls were treated as open gallery space.  I knew I was going to embrace hanging art all over the walls, but I also wanted a gigantic bulletin board to do pin-up material in a more evolving manner.  So I began sketching out details, worked out how it could be panelized for installation, and eventually had it painted the same Pratt & Lambert “Timidity” color that I love so much on the walls:

My first cell phone pics:

I initially used the Modern Circle Rug from my Vintage Modern collection at Target.  This how the apartment appeared in the July / August 2006 issue of Elle Decor [download article here].

The apartment continued to evolve, and as my collections grew the layout of the room changed.  The second version appeared in the November 2007 issue of House & Garden [download here] and is seen in my book, American Modern.  The room became a way to process the comings and goings of all the kinds of objects that were coming into my life. Sometimes it can seem like a bit of chaos and so much stuff, but I actually feel really comfortable with all of the art and all of the inspiration that it gives. There is a level of casualness to the bulletin board that separates it from the other walls hung with framed art, allowing it to evolve and change and allowing me to continuously compose different ideas.

[photo credits, top to bottom: Michelle Arcila - intro photograph, #2, #4, #7.  Laura Resen - #1, #19, #20.

All others by Thomas O'Brien or Eugene Corless.]