the RadaR | DESIGN
upwardly mobile industrial designer Kristofer laméy crafts ethereal works like this led ladder from new and old parts in his Castleberry Hill loft-cum-studio.
Industrial Revolution Kristofer Laméy shows off edgy, Machine Age works this fall at MODA | By Drew Jubera | | Photography by Alex Martinez | He likes Japanese swordplay, motorcycles and spear ﬁshing. He also likes guns, aiki-jujutsu (he’s a black belt), and the biscuits his wife bakes when they return home with 20 friends at 3am. It’s a lifestyle that he sums up as “gypsy luxury.” Allows his wife Jenna, 27, “Our life, it’s not ordinary.” “Gypsy luxury” is also the aesthetic that industrial design artist Kristofer Laméy applies to his Castleberry Hill loft/studio, which boasts a climbing rope and ﬁreman’s pole that Laméy regularly climbs and descends. It’s here that he conceives and assembles his ambitious work: modern blown-glass light fixtures, whose baroque origins seem at once deep-sea and extraterrestrial; sleek, angled, wooden coﬀee tables, which debuted in 2007 at the International Contemporary Furniture Fair in New York; and remnants of his “Ladders” installation project, captured by Los Angeles photographer Matt Odom—the LED-lit glass ladders glowing with ghostly, metaphoric brilliance among the tombstones of Atlanta’s Oakland Cemetery. Laméy’s charged, poetically engineered sculptures are now 52 |
coveted by collectors around the U.S. and overseas. Clients include Frederic Got, a gallery owner in Paris, where Laméy travels frequently for inspiration, and Besharat Gallery, Atlanta, where he designed illuminated glass ﬂoor-to-ceiling columns. Up next: A collection of Laméy’s limited-edition work will be shown throughout the month of October in a solo show at the Museum of Design Atlanta (404.979.6455; museumofdesign.org). Te intensely likeable, hyper-verbal 32-year-old arrived at this artistic moment unconventionally. As a kid, he loved to take apart toys and put them back together; as he grew older, he reassembled yard sale TVs and VCRs. Tose innards remain his Proustian madeleines. “Te smell of a circuit board still brings me back,” he says. He later worked for Atlanta architect Karel Pruner and helped design the upscale lighting for
the Buckhead restaurant Twist. Now on his own, he designs his visions on a computer, with a half-dozen friends building the parts to his exacting speciﬁcations. Laméy then assembles them in his living room. He married Jenna two years ago. Seventy friends were invited one night to Besharat Gallery to debate whether the two should marry. An hour later, without Jenna knowing in advance, Laméy popped the question. When she said yes, he signaled for a preacher and the two were united on the spot. Now, examples of Laméy’s work—a many-tentacled glass chandelier and edge-lit glass from his “Ladders” series—share loft space with his year-anda-half-old son’s vintage Radio Flyer race car and Jenna’s gleaming Ducati motorcycle. Te couple is still trying to reconﬁgure the loft to accommodate a new daughter. But they’re not too worried. Laméy says they have a mantra for times like these: “Let’s get uncomfortable.” A