When people ask me what my style is, I usually go to something like: “I don’t have a style. It’s all about functionality.” I'd rather talk about my inspiration. I identify with the process and work of Richard Serra.
Architects are always integrating. Synthesizing man-made structures with a landscape, unifying functional requirements with a building envelope, fusing family needs with a space they will inhabit. But how does one accomplish said design integration? I find clues and inspiration in movies that spotlight Rome.
Tommy Hilton, an artist of a carpenter, is an inspiration. He is an expert at what he does. When Tommy is on the job, I can feel at ease. Everything will be done even better than I envisioned.
Thinking of the Pantheon while engaging the architect within helps me begin, despite of uncertainty. Not knowing the outcome before embarking on something is really hard, but even if there are no guarantees, I can’t just sit around and wait for something benevolent to happen. Nervous or not, wrong or right — life cannot be avoided and I might as well plan for my thoughts to support, not undermine my efforts.
Over the last 30 years, I’ve been making furniture that doubles as art for my own consumption. In college, I built it myself, but after practically cutting off a tip of my thumb, I started to rely on fabricators. That’s how I met David Gale; it was in 1989, right after I moved to LA from NY and was in the process of furnishing a new apartment. Meeting him inspired a wave of experimentation with metal.
Since college, the work of architect Louis Kahn has been a constant source of inspiration. Recently, I came across a letter of recommendation my professor at USC School of Architecture Roger Sherwood crafted on my behalf. He wrote: “I was impressed by a passion for books as something more than a usual search for the latest classical detail.”
Imagine being in a glorious garden. Dazzled, you are focusing on the landscaped grounds. The fascination and excitement you feel remind you of being a small child. You are not worried about the past or the future. Mindfully affecting the present, you are completely engaged and involved with life as it happens.
If being a minimalist is knowing what’s important and treasuring it (instead of loosing sight and taking for granted), count me in! And if a minimalist way of thinking can improve the quality of life, I am willing to question all previous assumptions.
I am perusing various booths exhibiting at the New York’s ICFF (International Contemporary Furniture Fair). Strikingly sculptural custom panels of a display catch my attention. Their abstract beauty stops me in my tracks. Design ideas and various possibilities come to mind right away.
The work of architect Carlo Scarpa has been an inspiration and a point of reference in building a life that reveals who I am without pretenses.