Despite the wisdom of the Carpenters, neither rainy days nor Mondays "really get me down." Not when I have such a handsome English Arts & Crafts "stick stand." A variety of woodworking techniques—piercing, turning, chamfering, crenelation—create a most handsome and useful piece. And the brass drip bowl is well-darkened with years of hard-earned patination.
There's something I love about small chairs. I don't have children. I've never had a doll. But I can't pass-up a nice, small chair—be it made for a child or a toy.
It's not that I particularly like chairs. In fact, I have always made it a point not to stock "real chairs" (they take forever to sell and take-up too much shop space until that happens).
What I like about small chairs is that they are wonderful merchandising (or home decorating) props. One can place a small chair atop a merchandise display—a table, a shelf or a mantelpiece—and provide automatic "lift" to some featured item. It helps to "break-up" the display area, creating a variation in height amongst the products.
I am always looking for "things to hold other things." Near the top of that perpetual search list are objects which can be used to hold business cards. Coolness, style and unexpected adaptation always goes a long way. This little vintage bench—made of pine twigs—was made in the Fifties for a doll's house. In order to keep the cards from slipping between the twiggy slats, I folded one of the cards ("just right") to create a smooth, impermeable surface.
In the Edwardian Era, when indoor plumbing was still a novelty, men would shave on a washstand—in the bedroom—using a large pitcher of hot water and a large ceramic water basin. Sometimes the washstand had a built-in mirror. Often, the washstand was simply tiled with glazed ceramic squares—an measure to keep the furniture water-resistant. An Edwardian English walnut shaving stand like this would have stood atop a washstand (or dressing table or chest of drawers). The stepped, chevron-form stand is mounted with a brass gallery to help corral the various tubes, mugs and pots associated with shaving. A divot in the center front is a handy place to store one's cufflinks or spare razors. The oval mirror is nicely bevelled and the...
It's a rainy weekend here in Western Pennsylvania. Good for my Spring plantings—and, actually, good for sales (as people shop when they cannot play out-of-doors). This English Arts & Crafts "stick stand" (Americans call it an "umbrella stand") is the perfect, handsome accompaniment for such a rainy day. It's made of mixed-woods and boasts attractive, botanically-inspired "piercing." A crenellated top edge "crowns" the piece.
Having had a small (and tight) Greenwich Village storefront for 23 years, I've developed a certain prejudice against buying chairs. Especially sets of chairs. In my experience, sets of chairs do not sell quickly. Sure, everyone needs them. But, until they finally sell, they take-up lots of precious floor space, require frequent moving (in order to reach other things) and are only moderately useful for displaying other merchandise before they sell (compared to, say, a table). In short, they always seem to be in the way! All this said, I have always enjoyed buying children's chairs. Their small size makes them useful (atop or under a table) for displaying merchandise—like a giant, nice-looking riser platform. Sometimes they can be hung on a...
In 1866, brothers George and Oliver Colie opened a business in Buffalo, New York which would eventually become the Kittinger Furniture Company. From the start, they insisted upon the finest design, materials and workmanship. Their attention to detail—and their talent at reproducing older, period styles—brought them to the attention of important historical organizations. Today, Kittinger furnishes "bench-made" (that is, high-end) period reproductions to the White House, the US Senate & Congress, the Supreme Court and to historical groups like Colonial Williamsburg. They have also reproduced older styles for sale in their showrooms.
My little Benji—one of the top loves of my life—turns ten today! After years of "guarding" the LEO Design cashwap counter at 543 Hudson Street, he has adapted well to worklife behind a couple of antique shop counters in the Pittsburgh region. After a bit of initial exploration and expectation, he usually crawls into his travel crate where he can nap the afternoon away (as he did in Greenwich Village). When I'm working at home, he curls-up under my worktable, occasionally inserting himself into one of my merchandise photo shoots—and always remaining ready to announce furiously the rattle of the postal slot.
I have a real soft spot for the British Edwardian Era. It is remembered as a time of modernism, optimism, liberated fashion, and a leap forward in the arts—the fine arts, the decorative arts and the performing arts. Both the Arts & Crafts and the Art Nouveau Movements flourished during this period. It was a time of rapid invention: Marconi transmitted "wireless" communication across the Atlantic; recording technology was changing at-home entertainment, electricity was becoming more common in (upperclass) homes, and the Wright Brothers were taking to the air. And one of the largest, most advanced passenger ships in history, the Titanic, was being built for her notorious maiden voyage.
Chairs—especially sets of chairs—have always been a nightmare for me as a merchant with a tiny shop. Though everyone needs and uses chairs, they never seem to sell quickly—and, in the meantime, they take-up lots of space. Unless you hang them from the ceiling moulding, they become a tripping hazard and consume more floorspace than they deserve.
I find children's chairs, on the other hand, interesting and quite useful. They are often charming. They never seem to come in sets. And, until they sell, I use them as a merchandising fixture—to elevate and showcase other products. Sometimes I leave the chair on the floor, more often I place the chair upon a table.
To paraphrase Peggy Lee, "The Picnic's Over." The long Independence Day weekend is finished and it's time to fold-up the blanket, pack-up the basket, and head back to work. This little English Child's chair does, indeed, fold-up nicely. It returned from Oxford (where I found it) folded-up in my suitcase. It's nicely engineered and constructed of handsome wooden slats. It's a nice chair for a child, of course, and easily stored in a broom closet or drawer. It's also a terrific plant stand, telephone station or side table (to hold a book and a drink). It would make a great display piece to use in and amongst a collection (pottery, boxes, dolls) which require a little elevation for select pieces. It could also...
