Dare I say, the final days of summer are at our door. Hurricane Hermine is working up the coast and people are firming up their weekend plans with keen eyes on the storm radar. It’s hard to believe we are here. Nonetheless, enjoy what is left of our beloved summer. Bon Weekend & Happy Labor Day!
We hopped over to Jessica Hagen’s Fine Art Gallery last evening to honor the work of Hunt Slonem. Hunt was in town to celebrate the occasion of having a solo exhibition at the gallery. His work, obstreperous in color and material, is well known for its neo-expressionist character, mostly of butterflies, rabbits and tropical birds. Like Hunt’s own personal style, his pieces are splashy, colorful and equal parts whimsy. Hunt’s work is known around the world, with permanent collections at the Guggenheim, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Whitney, and the Moreau Foundation.
I first discovered Hunt’s work at a gallery in San Francisco, only to then see one of his bird paintings in Aspen. From then on, I was intrigued. View more of Hunt’s portfolio, here.
Above: A personal favorite – A tangerine hued piece as part of Hunt’s oil on diamond dust (on canvas) collection. We then left with Hunt’s book “Bunnies” and scribe.
This just in: a snowy scene from my hometown, good old Ida in all her winter glory. Dare I say, this photograph makes me a little lonesome for the ocean state.
The WSJ ran an article about the appeal of high-gloss and one skeptic’s new view on the paint’s possibilities. I’m particularly fond of the high-gloss look, especially in small spaces. When I think of high-gloss done well, my mind goes to the jet black glossy walls of The Black Pearl, a Newport fixture that never grows old (mudslides & chowder, anyone?). Above, the high-gloss effect courtesy of William Waldron.
Sometimes when you see your parents or grandparents in their mature ages, you forget that at one point in their lives, they were young, vivacious, athletically ambitious and fierce. They were, to a degree, versions of your current self in what might feel like a distant lifetime ago.
Living in the Newport area, it’s no surprise when you visit friends’ and neighbors’ homes that they are dusted with some sort of silver dish or plaque from a sailing regatta in our local waters. My house is no different. Silver, pewter and various shades of mahogany and teak are scattered around our house that remind us of my Father’s triumphs on the water. From champagne buckets to punch bowls, to catch-alls and odd figures and frames, they truly come in all forms. I’ve even smuggled a few of these out to San Francisco with me.
Over the holiday, my Father and I pulled out boxes upon boxes of his sailing trophies to reminisce on his glory days. As my Dad enthusiastically rattled on about the time his J-24 was on the cover of Sail Magazine in ’79 and the week he spent with Dennis Connor and the Freedom team tuning up before the America’s Cup in ’74, I was reminded that my Father had it all happening. In my opinion, the best part of his adventures on the race course back in the day, was his ability to reflect on them in the present, 30 years later with his daughter he taught how to sail.
Above: A quick snapshot of some of Salty’s trophies in all shapes and sizes, including signature beer cans from the 1974 America’s Cup in Newport, Rhode Island.