Perhaps we'll tango?

Trawl the antique markets beneath the city's grand Beaux-Arts structures?

Snatch up antique gas bottles for an inspired collection?

Learn the craft of a local artisan?

Or simply while the day away in tune with the locals?

Against better judgement, I’m throwing yesterday’s caution to the wind.  Yes indeed, if anything is going to be robbed it won’t be the abode.  Meh, I have plenty of issues getting through our brownstone’s vault-like doors, and I have the keys!  It will be I, futzing with the camera in the city’s famous crafts & antiques markets who will get the old pecuniary patdown.

Come 10:30 pm this evening, I’ll be on an overnight flight to Argentina.  On Sunday, a cruise ship to Brazil and Uruguay.

Without further ado, I bid you adieu. And do stay tuned for tales and snapshots of South American culture.

xoxo

Harboring a secreto.  And that, my dear and inspired, is the only clue I can give.

As luck would have it, I’ll be back spamming inboxes & clogging up readers on St. Patty’s.

March 17th is a long time to keep a secret.  Stay tuned.

"Mad as a Hatter" ~ In order to bind felt fibers the millinery industry used mercury. Felt fluff would be inhaled by the milliners and over time the mercury would drive them mad.

Not a moment longer will I keep the news under hat (oh no no, dear you, such trickery is old hat).  Tis true! The oft-obsessed about cloche  now sits jauntily atop my obsessed noggin!

After a lazy Bleecker Street brunch, Mr. Husband and I swooped into SoHo’s The Hat Shop to pick up the custom Guy Carsone aubergine chapeau.

If you look cloche up, the hands of the maker (in this case monsieur Brooklyn milliner, Guy) are imprinted in its felt.  You can feel it! I felt it.

You may think I’m talking through my hat.  Why don’t you throw your hat in the ring?  I guarantee you’ll sense a thing or two new.  If not, I’ll eat my hat.

By Jove, who knew the chapeau had (la haute) cultural currency?

For a splash of irony, note the watermark. And, no need to focus eyes, the buttons are of yet unattached.

Fessing up to being less than talented at something has actually never been my strength — nor pleasure.

I should be the best at all things mind and hand take to.

Bof, you exclaim!  This chic is bogus — Look at the name of her blog!

Months ago, I was proud to say that I was clueless at craft.  But as time has gone, I’ve become increasingly insecure about not being the best.  Or even broaching the best.

From the outset, my inner, most fierce competitor was merrily subdued.  But as craft has creeped its way from the conceptual to the real, I grow more intimidated and resentful. I can no longer hide behind the defense that craft was something that someone else did.

Reluctantly, with head hung and spirit exhausted, I present the scarflette. Unholy crap, did I really work so long to get it all twisted up?!

These embarrassing knit fits can make a tightly wound woman come fastly undone.

Yup, you’ve heard it mentioned here, tweeted at a fever pitch and whispered softly, but the rumors are indeed true. . .

@abcddesigns + @cluelesscrafter = @themaximalists

and our art, craft and design-centric events consortium has crafted up an evening of cocktails and conversation for

Creatives – - – -> YOU!

We’ll be screening

Handmade Nation (2nd ever in nyc!), a documentary exploring the rise of the DIY ethos

we’ll be enjoying

Cocktails conversation, networking, sharing trade secrets, and showing our stuff

Come to an

Uber-luxurious, banquetted screening room in a skyscraper overlooking Lady Liberty

Mark your calendars, dear creatives and friends

4.10.10

Click here for ticketing and information

See you then!

xoxo

abcd dragoo & lydia barry Kutko

In the 1920s, cloches were coded. A firm knot trim indicated the wearer was married and unavailable. An arrow-shaped ribbon indicated a single girl that was already in love, and a flashy bow meant single and looking for love!

Craft your own cloche? Click here.

Recession depression is curable, so it seems.  A furtive swig from the forbidden flask under the cover of a coveted cloche is the perfect cocktail for hard times. A Valentine’s Day visit to Soho’s The Hat Shop reaffirmed this medical fact.

Historically, during financial crises sales of alcohol and accessories climb.  Linda Pagan, proprietress of SoHo’s The Hat Shop and devotee to the church of chapeaux (I suspect she has a hat for every day and occasion), remarked that last year business boomed.   Why would I not contribute to her good fortune, a gesture that not only warms the head but the heart? Millinery is a handcraft infused with historical, political, and social importance, and one that requires concerted attention to preserve.  From top hat to bonnet to veil, what is worn on the head tells many tales – some tall, some short – of the person underneath.

As a gift from my husband and in our effort to support the handmade, I anxiously await a custom aubergine eyelash cloche. To quell the excitement, last evening a friend and I attended the Milliners’ Guild Fashion Show.  It was quite a wild night (would you ever believe that?!), one that involved derobing all but the piece de resistance:  the hat!

Other affairs of note, unfortunately none of the  kinky quality ~

Brigitte of Covet, Design, etc., in Chicago + Beyond and I are having a blog affair.  She high-fived The Clueless Crafter.  I’m high-tening her.  Thanks for keeping Clueless off your crap list, especially before Valentine’s Day when my heart is like a fragile (insert your desired visual here).

Julieann, Deisgnstress of CreateGirl posted a fantabualistic round-up of her favorite blogpreneuses current must-haves.  I paid her in Dove Chocolates (though, she didn’t know they were last year’s batch) to put me in her list.  The French mid-century lacquer and birch desk sadly did not make it into our collection.  The Christie’s auctioneer really knew how to amp the audience up, driving the hammer price into a no-own zone.  Jerk!

By the end of the week, affairs gave way to a promising professional alliance.  I am thrilled to announce that I’ve been appointed LVCmag.com’s at-large Arts contributor!

LVCmag.com (En francais, La Vie Cherie)  is the vision that women can achieve a meaningful balance between the Darling life – the exterior, the surface – and the Cherished life – the interior, the substance.

Mary Georgiana Caroline, Lady Filmer (English, 1838–1903) Untitled loose page from the Filmer Album, mid-1860s

I hope you stop by to see what the women behind this enterprise are about. At the least, cruise past my first article “Playing with Pictures,” a look into the inner lives of Victorian women, their obsessions with photography, and how they “cut and pasted” their likenesses into alternate realities.

Tell me what you want to read more of and I’ll whip it up into something funky, full of feeling, and future forward for next week’s Arts Column.

xoxo

Next year's scarflette, perhaps?

A gorgeous sparkle flourish increases allure to this scarflette.

Valentine’s Day 2010 marks the first year I am deeply attached to two loves. C’est pas vrai?!  The forbidden love triangle!

The first love goes to my dashing husband.  We will be inseparable as we brunch and crush on one another and our much beloved New York.  The tie that binds, the capstone to the love triangle, is the delicious buttery texture of a handmade scarflette, wrapped come-hitherly round the decolletage.

It seals the deal on a year of love –  thoughtfully crafted in unison.  One in which a supportive husband believes that his wife’s entrepreneurial aspirations and craft life are worth exploring;  And, one where a wife believes her computer engineering husband deserves to live a life surrounded by art, craft, design, and all sorts of visual intrigue and expression.

I guess this is one of those rare occasions where we welcome a third party into our relationship.  It’s a symbol of love and cooperation.  We hope to continue to craft a closely knit marriage of mutual support.

More akin to my humble scarflette. On Saturday, I will be meeting with my faithful tutor Victoria to fix dropped stitches and add buttons.

~ Cheers to all Scarflette Tartlettes!

What do you share in your relationships, in your marriages?

A stunning pair of mercury glass obelisks that caught my fancy.

‘A symphony of plates, and vases, and silverware and candlesticks,’ he inevitably shouts my way, but I cannot focus. My peripheral vision has caught sight of a cobalt and salmon lustreware pitcher on the bottom shelf of a glass display case.  I fumble inside to inspect the piece firsthand, an activity that involves drawing it to the eye or under my handy magnifying loop, all while twirling and turning it around and upside down for signs of irreparable damage. ‘dances in your head!‘ he continues, ‘Is this (pointing at the lustreware in my death grip with a knowing smirk) going to be part of our symphony?’

‘Mayybe?‘ I  husband-probe, ‘How do you feel about it?’

And so goes the way of conversation after conversation hinged on our collecting dreams. Saturday afternoon’s grand tour of  Doyle At Home ~ Fine Furniture, Decorations, and Paintings unfolded in much the same way as previous auction previews. Whether collecting for pleasure or the pragmatic, the discussion invariably leads to chat of aesthetics and economics.  Do we both love it?  Can we afford it?

As young collectors, it is prudent to peruse the wares at as many fleas, estate sales, galleries, art and craft fairs, antique shows, and auction previews long before purchasing.

Below is a short, yet suitable list to familiarize you with the larger auction houses as well as smaller regional auctions. Wherever you are, there is an auction for you.

Interior Designers snap up settees like this for a bargain, refurbishing and reupholstering for a spectacular return.

Dizzy from the symphony of china and crystal dancing through my head, this velvet jewel-toned chaise lounge had just the right Hollywood vibe for a good faint.

Camel back sofa with great bones. The Euro-oriental kitsch and the pearlescent sheen of the fabric was a tad over the top.

Antiques and the Arts Online, offers a comprehensive overview of  auctions taking place across the United States

Bonhams and Butterfields

Christie’s

Doyle New York

Freeman’s, American Furniture, Decorative & Folk Art, English & Continental Furniture & Decorative Arts, Asian Arts, Fine American & European Paintings, Modern and Contemporary Art, Rare Books, Fine Prints, Oriental Rugs, Fine Jewelry & Silver, and 20th /21st Century Design

iGavel online auctions,  fine arts, antiques, and collectibles

Phillips De Pury & Company, specializing in contemporary art

Sotheby’s

Swann Galleries Auctioneers, specializing in rare books and works on paper

Tepper Galleries

Waddington’s

Wes Cowan’s Historic Americana Auctions, specializing in Native American art and antiques

Do you know of any well-regarded large or regional auction houses near you? What treasures can be found there?

Guggenheim Rotunda. Photo by Robert C, c-monster.net

I have often found myself in front of a museum canvas – a Titian, an Ingres, a Pollock, what have you – deadly thumbing the vibrant band of beads around my neck, which only moments before had given pure delight.  All senses vanquished. Just numb.

Or dumb?

Why can’t I be moved?  Why doesn’t this priceless work captivate me? Where has the damn luster in my necklace escaped?

This art is better than I am.  It knows more than I.  Other people feel it, get it. I know it’s worth more than I could ever amount.  The auction records say so! It’s in a museum.

And here I say this, hailing from an educational and professional background that would assume otherwise.

Today, at the Guggenheim Museum, I learned just why I don’t get it.  Why sometimes others may not get it, though don’t propose to confess.

On participation (not view) is a conceptual work by Tino Sehgal.  The entire Frank Lloyd Wright-designed rotunda has been stripped bare of all material works.  In its place, Sehgal has hired and trained area youth and adults to interact with museum visitors on a purely verbal plain.  There is nothing concrete to have, nothing one can buy.

You become the work.  You create.  You matter.  You become the matter.

This is how art moved – moved me ~

Mise en scene: I enter museum rotunda and begin the slow, spiral journey upward.  Enter Eric, an 8-year old boy. He is abrupt and stuns me.

Eric: What is progress?

Me: What? Ummmm. Hmmm. Well, okay, to me our view of progress is troubled.  Is progress always moving away from something, assuming that the next thing is better? What’s the proof?  What if it were progress to go back in history and live like farmers?  But that’s not how I’ve been trained to think of progress.

Eric: (He’s been listening intently).  Let me see if I understand?  (He repeats what I said, seeming to process its meaning).

(Eric is approached by a young girl named Fatima.  She’s in middle school.  Eric tells Fatima what I said.  Eric leaves and Fatima continues to walk with me around the rotunda.)

Fatima:  I’ve not heard that view of progress before.  I get it! I really do! Is progress what Government is doing today by bringing back Roosevelt’s New Deal tactics?  Is it good to reissue methods used during the Great Depression today?

(Fatima is met by Mark.  Mark is tall and skinny, probably in his early-30s).

Mark:  Is it bad when preferences become rules?

Me: Oh my God, that’s a great question.  I guess preferences quickly become defense mechanisms, shutting you down?

The dialogue continued onward to the rotunda dome.  I was exhilarated, moved, scared, alive!  As I made my way slowly down the rotunda ramp, I shouted to Mark, “This is progress!”

I didn’t feel art-alienated anymore.  I mattered.  I made “matter.”  I feel the same way when I craft.

I’m ready to go back to the museum canvas.

Similar art ailment? I could be alone.