Design, the facet of presentation which attracts the eye and stirs thelittle grey cells into action. I have long understood that I have an aesthetic which is somewhat off center with most of those around me. Yet, If I were to invite you to my second life abode the chill would soon settle into a yet unrecognized comfort; like sinking into the plush furniture of proper Victorian drawing room.
I bring this subject up from a find whilst I scrolled through my 300 news feeds in my Google reader, (love google reader), and came across a metal skull lamp in an article in Gizmodo. The writer of the article calls it “..the most terrifying table lamp…”.I call it beautiful. I want it, crave it.
If I could have my druthers I would have a ‘den’ which looked much like the ‘Closer’ video by NIN, this is what I would do if means were no object.
Growing up in Sag Harbor I was fascinated by the Victorian aesthetic and had ample opportunity to explore show homes which reproduced this, but it was too soft, too tranquil. Where, I asked were the drawing rooms of great explorers, whalers, and botanists?-(think about it, in order for someone to see and study a rare plant he would have to travel in harsh accommodations and face death by nature every moment. No rescue by GPS here. Darwin was a tough mother!). Everything had been sanitized by the local historical revisionists.
I left the semi isolated Sag Harbor to shack up with an artsy hipster in downtown NYC and found a world I only previously dreamed I could be part of. The girl and I soon parted but the stamp of what I was introduced to struck home, THIS is where I was supposed to be, this is what I had been searching for.
Concurrently I had just begun to understand and appreciate the Punk and hardcore movement in music when I met Pam and Marc. The Koch’s were uber NYC downtown rock hipsters via Buffalo and close friends with one of the great unknown bands of the early 80s, The Splat Cats. Marc collected the ephemera of kitsch gothic ghoulishness. Their Ludlow street apartment was filled to the brim with records, comic books, videos, pop culture models, books of suspicious origins and early 19th century coffins-the ones with viewing windows on the cover. I still have several of the birthday cards given to me which consisted of heavily gilded photos of a specific coffin or groups of coffins. One birthday I was given the book Wisconsin Death Trip, a book I read nearly as often as I do Cyrano de Bergerac or Foucault's Pendulum. The Koch’s home was not so much an education as a revelation, that central aesthetic which I had been searching now surrounded me each time I entered their home. I was introduced to the art of Joe Coleman, Joel Peter Witkin and innumerable bands of nearly every genre. It was a cross between Maxilla and Mandible and the Rembrant room at the Met.
Around the same time I chanced to meet Robin Ludwig, an artisan for whom the word itself is his being. I met Robin through his daughter when I was in an Aveda show, I had very famous scissor hands cut my, then looong, hair and got a few products and bucks to boot. Robin played gritty guitar, growled when he sang and created works of art out of metal with skilled delicate hands. Watching him work was nearly as intoxicating as the mead wine he brewed in the loft apartment they occupied smack dab in the heart of Chinatown.
This combination of old world craftsmanship and a full involvement of the modern drew me into a local high end audio store to drool over an early 80's retro tube amp placed in the front window, and to be promptly be escorted out by staff – “come back when you have money to spend kid!”. The amp itself was evidently very good but the cost was for the art of the product, it called out and pulled you in with how it played with the light, its warmth and visual shimmer.
While I worked in recording studio and learned the in n’ outs of the main gear I was constantly drawn to theFocusrites, Joe Meek gear and theUREI LA-2A’s . The fascination was not just as moth to flame but a concerted study of the device and the names behind it. The boxes spoke to me, called me in to learn not just about compression or EQ but about the early days of audio and the men who made or inspired these gleaming boxes; I also found out about their inspiration and obsessions.
So, you’ll excuse me as I mount this “…most terrifying…” lamp to a brushed aluminum stand shaped like a gothic fence rail and revel in its lineage of history, artisanal heritage and learning it encapsulates for me.
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