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Showing posts from June, 2010

Louise Kruger @ Lori Bookstein Fine Art

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"She learned shipbuilding techniques," says Gallery Director and artist Lauren Bakoin, of  the Louise Kruger and her enigmatic art. (View in YouTube if this video is truncated at the right). 
If you live in a tiny studio in Manhattan, you can't possibly entertain the idea of hoarding sculpture of any significant size - even tabletop pieces have to be carefully curated between your fruit bowl, magazine stash and cellphone charger. But on this occasion, I came close to dropping serious rent money on a Louise Kruger original. 
Being a yoga teacher myself, I was drawn into Lori Bookstein Fine Art by this sculpture in the window depicting Pincha Mayurasana, or Forearm Stand:

Actually, it's somewhere between a forearm stand - the head should be off the ground - and a headstand - the hands should be cupped behind the head. Who cares? It's a fantastically dynamic piece, and I've been coveting it ever since. The decision to own it was mitigated by coveting practically…

NEST: The Metrosexual's Martha Stewart

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Along 9th Ave in Chelsea are some eclectic little home decor stores that have every right to be called galleries - they sell eye candy you can actually afford - and display in your own gallery at home.

One store I always enjoy popping into is NEST. It's perfectly sited to catch the loft-proud gay neighborhood, selling objets d'art and jewelry that you find yourself gazing for longer than usual, and turning over and over in your hands. It actually feels like a little sparrow's nest, full of treasures plucked from around the traps - not too minimalist, not too maximalist, not too ethnic, new agey, or mass produced, not too self consciously hip.  Just plain interesting. You can tell that each and every piece has been selected with thought, then placed in the tiny shop like it was your tiny studio apartment.

It's curated by owners Lana Sexton and Henry Stozek, a refreshingly 'tude free duo who don't hide behind a billboard-sized iMac pretending you aren't Sting…