A Private Edit From Tribeca
There’s a particular kind of furniture that refuses to behave like furniture. It doesn’t sit quietly against a wall, waiting to be useful—it takes the room, holds it, and commands attention the way a great piece of architecture commands the skyline. It’s sculpture you can live with, a conversation that deepens each time you pass by.
When I curate for clients, I’m not just looking for beauty—I’m looking for lineage. The thread that ties a contemporary table to a 12th-century arch. The way a lighting form recalls the curve of a hand-thrown vessel or the clean cut of a brutalist façade. The designers I gravitate toward understand that the best work speaks both forward and backward in time. It’s why I’m drawn to StudioTwentySeven’s stable of artists and architects: they balance reverence for craft with the kind of bold, risk-taking vision that makes a piece unforgettable.
From Jimmy Delatour’s radical, architectural explorations in travertine to Ross Gardam’s quiet mastery of material and light, and Georgios Kontaxakis’s monumental minimalism that feels as if it’s been unearthed from an ancient temple—each work is a study in proportion, presence, and permanence. These are objects that anchor a space, define its tone, and invite the kind of living that feels both intentional and elevated.
Because collecting isn’t about filling a room. It’s about creating a landscape—one where every piece earns its place, and where design history isn’t just referenced, it’s rewritten.
