Issue â„– 12 SUMMER 2013 $12.00 U.S.
Art is 1
SEVERAL YEARS AGO, I wrote an article
Anh-Minh Le Editor in Chief
for a local newspaper about a charitable event in which private art collectors were opening their homes to the public. The words of one of the collectors I interviewed have stuck with me: “Your life experiences really dictate your art collection. We’re drawn to things that reflect different parts of our lives,” she said, as we toured her San Francisco residence, which featured works by luminaries such as Willem de Kooning, Jeff Koons, Richard Price, Ed Ruscha, Lawrence Weiner, and Sol LeWitt. (Her collection was no joke.) It was such a simple concept. Yet prior to that interview, I had never really given much thought to why I liked the artwork I liked. The act of creating art as well as collecting art is so personal—making both natural things to focus on in an issue of Antholog y. For the painter who is the subject of our “Conversation” (page 16), for example, her Louisiana locale has strongly influenced her work. One of the Utah homeowners in “Light and Lively” (page 106) grew up in an artistic environment that cultivated a love for the American West that comes through in his paintings. In Dallas, an architect’s vintage and antique finds helped turn a standardissue apartment into a personality-packed space (“A Texas Treasure Trove,” page 47). In
this issue, we also visit with other artists and collectors around the country—from Los Angeles to Boston. If you’re of the mindset that culinary creations can be works of art, then you’ll no doubt appreciate “Masterpiece Dessert” (page 78). In that story, a San Francisco chef shares recipes for sweets inspired by art from her own collection. For our entertaining feature (“Portrait of a Party,” page 114), a Nashville painter invites a talented group of friends to a dinner in her backyard atelier. As I look around my living room, I can’t help but think about what the art and objects in here reveal about my husband and me. A commissioned piece by Alyson Fox is a nod to one of his favorite books, This Boy’s Life, and a couple of Balinese wood-carved statues are souvenirs of an amazing family trip we took. The decor says more about us than I might even realize. Likewise, the following pages tell stories about the lives of myriad creative types. In many cases, a picture—or painting or sculpture—is indeed worth a thousand words.
Contents Summer 2013
ARTISTS IN RESIDENCE
When two artists combine creative forces, the decor is bound to be distinctive.
ART IS EVERYWHERE
Rio de Janeiro is poised to accept the international spotlight in many aspects— including as an arts hub.
Periodicals in the form of objects? That’s right—learn more about an unconventional San Francisco-based quarterly.
In Atlanta, a young artist hones her painting skills while also broadening the scope of her work.
The offbeat and beloved contribute to a home inhabited by a designing duo.
An event designer plans a party for a dear client: his own staff.
AN ARCHITECT’S EYE 98 A stylishly modern Manhattan apartment provides the perfect backdrop for a collector.
A design historian’s earliest art memory continues to influence her personally and professionally.
LIGHT AND LIVELY 106 Art as well as crafts play a prominent role in a young Utah family’s airy abode. PORTRAIT OF A PARTY 114 A supper party in her studio marks a Nashville painter’s foray into a new genre. HOMEWARD
A TEXAS TREASURE TROVE
Myriad collections come together in a warm and often whimsical Dallas dwelling.
STROKES OF BEAUTY
An artist shares a painterly interpretation of her residence.
MASTERPIECE DESSERT 78 A San Francisco pastry chef ’s art acquisitions serve as the basis for a trio of desserts.
IN EVERY ISSUE
MAKING THE MAGAZINE
CONVERSATION Rebecca Rebouché
SCREEN PLAY BY THE BOOK
PRIZED POSSESSION Autumn de Wilde
Conversation Photographs by AMY DICKERSON
Rebecca Rebouché (rebeccarebouche.com) speaks of New Orleans with a touch of reverie. Although she was born in the small bayou town of Franklin, Louisiana, she spent her formative years in The Big Easy. After high school, she moved away for a short period, but returned soon after Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005. “All good New Orleans girls return home,” she says. “It’s like a magnet.” For Rebecca, art has been a magnet of sorts, too. “As a child, I doodled in school notebooks, and drew the backs of people’s heads in church,” she recounts. She studied art in high school and college, but dabbled in other fields as well. To pay for college, she acted in small movies, music videos, and commercials. Rebecca also worked at a children’s museum (“I thought I wanted to design interactive imaginative environments for children”) and as a graphic designer (“I once spent an entire year resizing the same photo of filet mignon”). About six years ago, while still employed as a graphic designer, Rebecca started showing her art at festivals and markets. She quickly developed a following and subsequently became a full-time artist. Today, she produces roughly 100 original paintings a year, operates a showroom in New Orleans called The Beauty Shop, and sells her pieces in an Etsy shop (rebeccarebouche.etsy.com). Rebecca divides her time between New Orleans—where a onebedroom shotgun apartment serves as a weekend crash pad—and rural Louisiana. In the latter, which she considers her primary residence, home is a three-story raised cabin built by an artist in the 1970s. The dual settings are ideal: “I always loved both extremes of country living and city life,” says Rebecca. “I thrive on that dichotomy, which I think is evident in my paintings.” Opposite: The painting behind Rebecca Rebouché, Murmuration, “depicts an island
with a swirling mass of starlings circling the island in a symphony of flight,” she says. It will soon hang in the lobby of the Southern Hotel in Covington, Louisiana. This page, top to bottom: Mementos are kept above Rebecca’s writing desk. The
backside of the artist’s “treehouse.” The small sketch was a study for a painting, while the Cotton Tree is a print tapestry that Rebecca sells online.
BLOGGER BEGINNINGS: In 2007, I started a
blog called Art for Breakfast, where I posted a small drawing every morning. That blog built my first following and my first portfolio. Then I started making paintings of those drawings and selling them at local art markets and national art fairs. I continued to blog and make paintings and that has been the basis for my career to this day. CAREER PATH: To transition from working as a
graphic designer to being a full-time artist, I would get up early every day for work and write three pages in my journal—which I have been doing every day since 2007. In those pages, I would write my vision, my dreams and goals, to attract them to me. I also gave myself a dress code, so that I didn’t waste time deciding what to wear. I would freeze food to eat for dinner each night so I didn’t have to cook. During that time, I went to work all day, and then went home in the evenings, defrosted food, and painted until it was time to sleep. On the weekends, I started showing my work at art markets in town. I did this for six months before I made the leap from fulltime graphic designer to full-time artist. FIRST PIECE OF ARTWORK YOU CREATED:
The first painting that I made from the Art for Breakfast drawings was a simple composition of a
green apple with a red-and-white striped party hat floating above it. It didn’t sell for a long time, so eventually I decided to keep it. People have since begged me to sell it, but by the time they were interested, I was no longer desperate for the money and could afford to hang onto it. It now hangs in my pantry! Seems like an odd place for such an important piece in my career, but I like to forget about it, then go in there to get a snack, catch a glimpse of it, and remember how far I’ve come. FIRST PIECE OF ARTWORK YOU ACQUIRED:
For many years I had a tumultuous and transformative love affair with New Orleans photographer Frank Relle. He was really my first mentor and role model, and by way of example, taught me how to be an artist. In the early years of my career, on birthdays and holidays, he gave me my favorite photographs from his popular “Nightscapes” series. They were the first art I hung in my home besides my own. It was a very special time in my life. MOTTO: “There’s no music playing when your
dreams are coming true.” I made it up, but I always remember that when something great is happening in my life. We see so many movies and read so many books with concise characters and crescendos of plot and story, cued by dramatic music and emotion, that
Left to right: The eight-
foot farm table by Matthew Holdren is one of the most used pieces of furniture in Rebecca’s home; she draws and paints as well as hosts dinner parties on it. At her writing desk, she tapes quotes and cards from artists she admires.
â€œCowhide butterfly chairs and deer antlers gather among bird books and an old church pew,â€? says Rebecca of her living room. Travel keepsakes such as pillows from South Africa are also part of the decor.
ermaine Greer once said, “the essence of pleasure is spontaneity.” As I settled into a beach chair on Ipanema Beach, instantly feeling as if the turquoise sea cascading at my feet was erasing any stress I had dragged from New York, Greer’s words could not have rung truer. Photographer Emily Johnston Anderson and I had escaped to Rio on a whim, when we suddenly found ourselves with coinciding free weeks and a mutual distaste for Gotham’s long winter. Rumors of Rio’s spectacular beaches, thriving art scene, and vibrant culture lured us to the city. It had been less than 24 hours since we landed at Galeão International Airport, and Ipanema Beach had already exceeded my expectations. I quickly learned that almost anything you need comes to you. Vendors roam the sand twirling umbrellas of hanging bikinis, or carrying soft, colorfully patterned wraps called cangas. A wave of your hand and you’ve ordered a drink. Fresh agua de coco (coconut water)? Ice cold Antarctica beer? Caipirinha? Sim, por favor (Yes, please). Under a nearby umbrella, a man named Paulo offers heavenly massages for a mere 15 reais (about $7.50). Clockwise from top: A
relaxing afternoon on Ipanema Beach. On the bank of Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas, a vendor readies a refreshing agua de coco (coconut water). Looking across Rio to Pão de Açúcar from the hillside neighborhood of Santa Teresa.
Text by KATE PRUITT Photographs by JEN SISKA
a t pla r a zil ian s
y on I p a
ne ma Be a
I could have spent my whole trip lounging in that chair, but Emily and I were eager to explore the city. In recent years, Rio has emerged as a center for art in Latin America, as well as globally. Thanks to Brazil’s growing economy and Rio’s success in securing the role as host of the 2014 World Cup and the 2016 Olympics, the city is transforming its drug-violence tarnished image by investing in an effective favela (shanty town) pacification effort and revitalizing its culture. In March, two museums opened: Museu de Arte do Rio (MAR) and Casa Daros. The former consists of temporary exhibits that will cycle through annually, while the latter—housed in a renovated 1866 mansion—boasts one of the world’s top contemporary Latin American art collections. And two years ago, ArtRio, an international
Above: Food kiosks
line Ipanema Beach, where posts designate the culture of each stretch of sand. For example, sit between Posts 9 and 10 for a young, hip crowd—unless you’re gay (Post 8) or with your family (Post 10).
contemporary art fair, launched with great fanfare—drawing distinguished galleries and collectors from around the world. As the ArtRio movement notes: “In Rio de Janeiro, art is everywhere.” The truth of that statement is evident as you look around the Cidade Maravilhosa, or Marvelous City. Undulating mountains encompass the metropolis, a surreal juxtaposition of nature and urban sprawl. Cristo Redentor, a towering Art Deco statue of Jesus Christ, watches over the city from his perch atop Corcovado. Murals and graffiti decorate the buildings, which are a mélange of architecture styles ranging from colonial to modern skyscrapers. Emily and I aimed to experience the city’s culture through the recommendations and guidance of local artists and residents. In Rio, be open to where the day takes you. It’s easy to meet people and collect new acquaintances to hang out with during your stay. And some of our most memorable experiences unfolded after following a random suggestion that we go forró dancing or to an obscure plaza where artists hang out. Many people don’t speak English—Portuguese is the official language of Brazil—but we somehow managed to navigate the city with smiles, obrigadas (thank you), and a smattering of English, French, and Spanish. To commence our Rio art immersion, Emily and I headed north to the
Above and below:
Museu de Arte do Rio is one of the newest additions to Rio’s thriving art scene; its wave-inspired, undulating rooftop connects the museum to its art school, Escola do Olhar. A favela in Santa Teresa.
hillside artists’ community of Santa Teresa, the Montmartre of Rio. Santa Teresa is more than 200 years old, with breathtaking, panoramic views of Guanabara Bay. Vivid paintings cover portions of the high, stony walls along its winding cobblestone roads, which are lined with aging mansions, quaint eateries, and galleries. Every September, the artists of Santa Teresa open their doors to the public for a couple of weekends, beckoning cariocas (Rio natives) up the hillside. On a local’s recommendation, we sat down for breakfast at Cultivar Brasil—an adorable cafe with vintage wooden tables and soft yellow tile walls, which serves the “best pão
This page: A breakfast of pão de queijo (cheese bread) and a bowl of açaí with granola at Cultivar Brasil.
ONE OF RIO’S MOST STRIKING ARTISTIC TRANSFORMATIONS IS IN THE
de queijo in Brazil.” Pão de queijos are delicious little round cheese breads; made of tapioca flour, eggs, oil, and cheese, they are soft and chewy, like a fluffier version of the Japanese mochi. We ordered a bowl of them, along with two açaí bowls, a traditional dish made of frozen and mashed açai fruit. Having tasted several dissatisfactory açaís in Ipanema (too sweet, too tart, not sweet enough), we were thrilled that this deep purplish-blue açaí was the perfect tangy mix of sweet and tart, accented with crisp granola. Down the hill, in the gritty bohemian neighborhood Lapa, we met a young carioca artist, Aline Campbell, for an art tour. Aline makes string art, intricately weaving colorful strings around nails to form geometric patterns. A few works are mounted on a rundown cement building nearby—her own form of street art. Through the grand dingy-white arches of the Carioca Aqueduct 58
and down an alleyway is Escadaria Selarón. A candycolored mosaic staircase composed of tile fragments from around the world, the art installation, covering 215 steps, was crafted over 20 years by Chilean artist Jorge Selarón as a “tribute to the Brazilian people.” One of Rio’s most striking artistic transformations is in the favelas. Aline and I ventured into Santa Marta, an incorporated slum famed as a backdrop in Michael Jackson’s music video, “They Don’t Care About Us,” and for a cluster of rainbow-colored houses. A few years ago, Dutch artists Jeroen Koolhaas and Dre Urhahn— better known as Haas & Hahn—transformed over 34 homes with a design that might best be described as an explosion of vibrant rays. A steep, labyrinthine maze of passageways leading to brick and wood homes stacked along the hillside, Santa Marta provides a glimpse of Rio in transition. As you enter, a motto scrawled on the wall reads: The rich people want peace to keep being rich, we want peace to keep us alive. The precipitous tram ride to its peak reveals stunning views of Pão de Açúcar (Sugarloaf Mountain) and Cristo Redentor. A great irony of Rio’s favelas is many possess the city’s best vistas. Inside the Santa Marta favela lies another world—an intricate web of crumbling stone stairways weaves past random doors, general stores, bars, a school, and the brightly striped rainbow houses. As we navigated the hillside, past decaying walls enlivened with bold murals of Rio’s landscape, a stray dog materialized and guided us for a stretch. Children playing on a dirt-covered terrace eyed my camera curiously, then coyly posed
Clockwise: Painter Alex Melo.
Aline Campbell specializes in string art. “Do not pollute, evolve” signs deter litterers on Ipanema Beach. Rio’s famous Escadaria Selarón. A pot of paint in Alex’s studio. A graffiti mural across from the Jardim Botânico.
Above: Street art livens up the
walls of a historic building in the neighborhood of Lapa. Opposite: Jardim Botânico is
an ideal place to take a stroll and cool off under the shade of its lush foliage.
Th e ra inbow hou se
s of S an t a Mar t a
for pictures. Only feet from the new police station, a metal French-blue door is covered in rusted bullet holes, a remnant of Santa Marta’s not-so-distant violent past. And on a plaza overlooking the city, a statue of Michael Jackson stands with his arms outstretched to the favela. The steamy, grimy trek through Santa Marta is intense, but worth it. If you don’t have a carioca companion, there is a tourist center at its base that offers guided tours. A trip to Rio would not be complete without visiting its most iconic sites. Ride a glass cable car to the peak of Pão de Açúcar, a colossal granite peak rising out of a verdant peninsula on Guanabara Bay, for gorgeous views. Stroll the serene tropical landscape of the Jardim Botânico (Botanical Garden)—a shady, fragrant respite in the middle of the city—as monkeys leap between towering palm trees overhead. Hike through lush foliage and waterfalls in Parque Nacional da Tijuca (Tijuca National Park), the largest urban rainforest in the world, located only 10 minutes from Ipanema.
A painter turns her attention to a personal subject matterâ€” objects and spaces in her Los Angeles home
Text by ANH-MINH LE Artwork by BELLA FOSTER
Although Bella Foster
Above: At the center of
the kitchen table is a yellow ceramic platter made by a friend of Noam’s mom; it dates back to the 1980s, when his family lived in Bolinas, California. Previous page: Artists
Bella Foster and Noam Rappaport consider themselves amateur bird-watchers, so they were drawn to the painted wood sandpiper that they found at the Rose Bowl flea market.
nurtured a love of art during her childhood in Portland, Oregon—“I always loved painting and drawing,” she says—she took a slight career detour en route to becoming a professional artist. After studying painting at the School of Visual Arts in New York City, she held “random assistant jobs with artists” and in 1998 was hired as a research assistant at Martha Stewart Living. “I had no idea such amazing creative jobs existed there,” she recalls. By the time she left the company, seven years later, she had been named senior craft editor. “I wanted to spend more time in the studio,” she says of her renewed focus on art. “Slowly, it came together.” Initially, she still accepted freelance craft styling gigs; then commercial projects such as her collaboration with Kate Spade helped pave the way to a full-time career as a painter. Bella created the art for Kate Spade’s 2010 agenda, and continues to work with the brand. She also developed the painterly prints that fashion designer Duro Olowu incorporated in his line with JC Penney that launched earlier this year. And her art has shown at a number of galleries in New York, with the subject matter ranging from bouquets to interiors to city landmarks. “When painting, you have to stick with reality to a certain extent,” explains Bella (bellafoster.com). “I do let my imagination go a little bit. So sometimes things don’t look exactly the way they are—but that’s cool to me.” For example, a vignette of her kitchen table (above) is done mostly from a bird’s-eye view, yet she changes the perspective for a couple of items: the glass filled with sage from her garden and the blue-and-white ceramic cup. Or, as she did with a depiction of
In the guest room, a Miranda July poster hangs above a sofa that belonged to Bellaâ€™s grandparents and is accessorized with geometric-patterned woven rugs by Duro Olowu.
AN ARCHITECTâ€™S Art, artifacts, and a generous dose of wood imbue a black-and-white Manhattan interior with warmth and interest Text by AMY ROSENBERG Photographs by NGOC MINH NGO
THE FORMER TENEMENT buildings of
Manhattan’s downtown, built in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, are known for their cramped, warren-like quarters, and dark spaces. Architect, designer, and artist Ghiora Aharoni lives in one of these buildings—but his spacious, light-flooded apartment defies every description of a tenement building you’ve ever heard. Stepping into his place is like stepping into a paradox: the inside seems bigger than the outside, and the peace and quiet belong more to a country retreat than to a bustling Manhattan neighborhood. “Even though the apartment is in the heart of the West Village, a dense urban setting, I wake up to the sound of birds,” says Ghiora. The birds are there by design. Ghiora—who moved into the building in 1998 and a decade later combined two adjacent apartments to create the current
A Finn Juhl sofa and chairs anchor a space that includes two paintings in Robert Longo’s “Men in the Cities” series (Eric and Gretchen); a coffee table by Ghiora; and Julian Opie’s Walk LED installation. Previous page: A statue of
the Hindu goddess Parvati overlooks a dining table designed by homeowner Ghiora Aharoni, as well as George Nakashima chairs. Nearby, Richard Serra’s Esna occupies the wall behind a pair of vintage sofas.
WITHIN THIS HANDCRAFTED COPSE SITS A VERITABLE MUSEUM OF MODERN ART. residence—installed eight large windows along the south-facing wall, placing a planter with a cedar tree and ivy outside each one. The apartment’s other six windows—for a total of 14, a true luxury in Manhattan—are situated beside similar planters, so the place appears almost to be surrounded by woods. Within this handcrafted copse sits a veritable museum of modern art. Ghiora, who moved from his native Israel to the United States in 1993 to study architecture, began collecting while a graduate student at Yale. He operates on the principle that art is integral to the creation of space, a credo that drives his namesake studio’s work as well (ghiora-aharoni.com). “Beyond collecting for myself,” he explains, “my studio’s approach to residential projects is to create a Gesamtkunstwerk, where the art, objects, furnishings, and architecture form an aesthetically cohesive environment.” The cohesiveness of his living space is apparent in the interplay among elements. Long rows of shelving along the ceiling and the floor contain hundreds of books but leave middle wall space open for artwork
The side table comprised of a steel frame and slabs of 200-year-old American black walnut is part of Ghiora’s own “The HyperCube” collection. Above: Ghiora in his Manhattan design studio.
An abundance of windows and white walls
provide an ideal backdrop for a Utah familyâ€™s colorful belongings
Text by ANH-MINH LE Photographs by SETH SMOOT Styling by KENDRA SMOOT
Opposite: The Coleman
family—Henrik, Meta, Maja, and Nicholas—enjoy breakfast in the eat-in kitchen, at a table of Meta’s own design. Above: Five-year-old Henrik
painted the bold, splatterstyle piece hanging in the living room.
n the salon-style gallery wall in Meta and Nicholas Coleman’s living room, the nucleus of the grouping is a canvas enlivened with splashes of primary hues. It is the handiwork of a significant young artist: their five-year-old son Henrik. “I love to see children’s art displayed in a home,” says Meta. “It makes the home so much more personal and I think it makes the child feel important.” Henrik, who created the piece in an art class last summer, appears to have inherited the Coleman artistic genes. “I was pretty little when I decided I wanted to be an artist,” recalls Nicholas (nicholascolemanart.com), whose paintings focus on the American West. “My father is one and growing up in his studio and with the smell of linseed oil in the house, I was hooked at an early age.” Adds the Provo, Utah, native about his subject matter: “My father would take me hunting and fishing in the nearby rivers and lakes, pointing out different details in muddy riverbanks and trees, and how the light would constantly change over the landscape. I’ve realized what I actually do with my art is a kind of preservation. There is a vast history here that I think still needs to be told in a tasteful way.”
Meta and Nicholas were just three years old when they met; they were part of the same preschool carpool group. Both later attended Brigham Young University, where Nicholas studied visual arts and Meta photography, and started dating in their mid-20s. Married for 10 years now, they share their Provo abode—which they designed and had built—with Henrik, twoyear-old daughter Maja, as well as Hazel, a Wire Fox Terrier. Meta still dabbles in photography as a hobby, but her career path changed course about a decade ago, when she was asked to redesign a women’s and children’s boutique. “That was the spark,” she notes of the experience that led to steady freelance interior design work. Last year, she launched the website One More Mushroom (onemoremushroom.com), which includes a blog and Meta’s portfolio. Her emphasis thus far has been children’s and family spaces. The name of her design endeavor is rooted in nostalgia. Although Meta and Nicholas were both raised in Provo, she spent her childhood summers with her family in Germany. There, Meta says, “Mushrooms are everywhere! I just grew up loving them. I started collecting them subconsciously; I wasn’t even aware of it.” Mushrooms appear as a hook in the kids’ bathroom, as wall art in Henrik’s room, and as salt and pepper shakers in the kitchen. An assortment
Top to bottom: Meta is a fan
of designer Orla Kiely, whose mugs and canisters add color and pattern to the predominantly white kitchen. Henrik spends time with his maternal grandmother, Kerstin, and the family’s Wire Fox Terrier, Hazel.
Meta often meets with clients in her home office, so they can get a sense of her personal style. The small painting in the gold frame was a birthday gift from Nicholas.
“I’ve realized what I actually do with my art is a kind of preservation.“
“My studio tends to reflect my love of the American West, but I’ve definitely taken a cue from 19th-century studios of Europe,” says Nicholas of his work space’s aesthetic.