Midway through our visit to Erin Considine’s Greenpoint, Brooklyn apartment earlier this summer, we began talking about her parents, who — no surprise here — are interior designers. She told us a story about her father being on a job site in Connecticut in the 1980s, where a company was giving away all of its Knoll furniture. A set of Mies van der Rohe Brno chairs here, a Saarinen Tulip table there — these are sorts the things the Brooklyn jewelry designer grew up with. When my jaw dropped, she shrugged. “It’s just being in the right place at the right time,” she says.
Considine should know. Her home is filled with the spoils of an expert thrifter — major pieces of fiber art, a paint by numbers horse, light fixtures picked up at stoop sales for less than a tenner — and since 2009, she’s been making jewelry that often takes as its starting point metal forms or pieces that were found, either in deadstock warehouses or on the street. After college, she says, “I started doing out doing experiments and casting. I was making these little washer rings — metal washers I found on the street that I would set in rings or pins. That still creeps into the collection every once in a while.”
But Considine’s jewelry practice doesn’t rely entirely on luck. The other side of the equation is discipline and healthy dose of self-education. Considine is known for her natural dyeing capabilities — she even teaches a class at New York’s Textile Arts Center about it — but it’s a skill she learned only recently. “At first it was mainly a kitchen experiment — dying with turmeric and onion skin and avocado skin and hibiscus,” Considine says. “Those dye stuffs are awesome for everyday casual dyeing. But if you’re going to make a product it’s really important to dye with something more substantive —things like indigo and woad and madder root. I took a class in Philly last fall from this man who’s been studying the chemistry of natural dyes for the last 30 years, and he explains everything in a very scientific way. There are so many old wives tales surrounding natural dyeing, and he breaks it down and explains. There are factors like pH, the temperature of the water, the alkalinity in the water — it was so interesting.”
Each collection is inspired by a different place and time in Considine’s life; last year, a girls’ vacation to the Southwest inspired both her weaving techniques and the palette. To see more of her inspirations, read through the slideshow at right, and to view the entire collection, visit Considine’s online shop or stop by the New York Capsule show, where Considine will be parked through the end of the day tomorrow!
Considine lives with her boyfriend in a sunny first-floor Greenpoint apartment. “I actually kill plants all the time, but I tend to find them a lot too. I found this middle one in the street, in the middle of winter. I’m also like a spider plant whisperer. I have a ton of spider plants in my studio.”
Plants aren’t the only things Considine hoards: “I’m kind of an obsessive thrifter,” she says. “I really love the hunt and finding things. I found this at Brimfield for like $5.”
“The fruit painting on the right is Mr. Pineapplehead, a print I inherited from a friend of a friend. The dolls behind the incense station are from a thrift store on 3rd Avenue in Brooklyn, I’m pretty sure they’re Cuban. The coiled basket is from a thrift store in Florida. The chain on the bench was my grandfather’s, one of the hundreds he collected over his lifetime— I chose this one for the great swivel hook and compactness, easy to transport. He worked in the coal mine in Illinois his whole life, but he also built houses and lots of little games.”
“The table situation is two parts from different places: the base I found on the street in Greenpoint and the blue marbleized tray came from a yard sale in Pennsylvania. The coiled plates I made last year for Lauren Manoogian’s pop-up shop at Beautiful Dreamers. All of the yarn was dyed on a trip we took to the Southwest earlier in the year with Luren Jenison and Alex Segreti. The aluminum dice and the tiny gray and yellow weaving on the table were picked up on that trip too. The blanket on the right is a Pendleton from my parents and the rack is from my grandparents in Illinois.”
“The little face and most of my ceramics are from an ex. He made this entire army of monkey faces with different forehead tattoos. On the left is a copper bracelet my friend gave me. It’s really big and has lost its shape but it has a nice patina.”
“The thing on the left is a puzzle; you have to get the ring off of the rope. It’s like my boyfriend’s party trick. Same with the Rubik’s cube. He used to take the Rubik’s cube on the subway with him and solve it.”
“The cork-faced planter is from Portugal via a Cape Cod antique shop. I love it with the surface of the travertine block side table, which friends gave us when they moved to Berlin. The wire basket is from Brimfield, the bird whistle is from a trip to Costa Rica, and the woven strap is a vintage find from my friend’s shop in DC. It has little animals depicted all over it and lots of geometric cutouts. On the right is a plate made by a college friend. It’s porcelain that she fired with copper wire to make the stripes. It’s one of my favorite treatments, there’s like a dark iridescence.”
“The Egyptian-themed hanging is from Brimfield and the pom-pom weaving is from a thrift store in Maryland. The inverse of the weaving is great too, it’s hot pink.”
“I recently gave the apartment a coat of white paint and I’ve been a little precious about putting holes in the wall, hence the paintings propped behind the plants. I like the effect, the paint-by-numbers horse peering out. The table I found on Craigslist, it’s pretty ridiculous in its proportions. The Koala mask and basket are from the thrift store.”
“The Sissy Spacek painting came from a thrift store in Connecticut. I’m a fan but someone was clearly a bigger fan.”
Considine in her apartment. “I grew up in a very hands-on household. We were in 4H, so we did everything — papier mâché and clay and building scale models. A lot of cooking and baking and sewing. We entered our projects in the county fair every year; I won grand champion for my challah bread one year but I think my mom mostly made it.”
“A funny eyeglasses dish found in an antique mall in Virginia. Looks great with glasses in it and actually is a helpful tool.”
“I’ve been collecting glass blocks lately. I don’t know why. It’s really the texture, and they all have their own personalities.”
“Our cast iron skillets from various junk shops (Wagner + Griswold are on our radar), Vermont wooden bowls from a thrift store in NJ, and my black glass collection, which I started for no apparent reason in college. There’s some totally opaque and some black amethyst.”
“Out of commission teapots that I don’t have the heart to throw out.”
“Hippie cookbooks, more black glass. On the right is my newest obsession — vintage aluminum tumblers. My friend turned me on to them — she has a set from her grandparents in jewel tones. They’re great for summer beverages, they keep your drink super cold.”
“This is one of my most prized possessions. It’s a decanter monogrammed with my initials, and I found it at a thrift store on my birthday.”
“This is one of my favorite games. You have to make the tower on this block thing. If you knock it over once, you’re a square. The second time, you’re a character, and the third time you’re a blockhead. The shapes are just so cool.”
“Dan’s clock radio from when he was 10. Sadly the tape player does not work and ate my Kenny Loggins tape.”
An assortment of Considine’s jewelry. The necklace on the left is from Considine’s first collection, and it’s representative of the work that’s followed as well — a dyed silk cord hung with brass components that were cast from found pieces of metal. Behind the necklace is one of the miniature chairs Considine often makes from Champagne tops as a party trick. On the right are two of Considine’s newer pieces also made from cotton silk, naturally dyed and woven through or around brass components.
“This is a new piece for fall, the Sill Ring. It’s silver wrapped with cotton tape dyed with Cutch (aka Catechu, from the heartwood of the acacia tree). The form was conceived from a vintage component I unearthed at Brimfield. I’ve revisited the shape in necklaces and bracelets, but it’s really lovely as a big statement ring.”
Considine in her backyard garden. “We’ve got strawberries and a lot of dye plants starting,” she says. “Woad, dyers coreopsis, a lot of zinnias. I have a plot growing indigo and other stuff. I’d love to get to the point where I grow everything, but it’s not really practical. To be able to grow woad or indigo properly would require a farm.”
To see more of Considine’s work, visit Capsule in New York this weekend, or visit her site!
If you tell people you’re going to Brimfield — the massive, thrice-yearly outdoor antique fair in central Massachusetts that famously lures the country’s best vintage pickers as well as interiors teams from stores like Ralph Lauren and J. Crew — you start getting loads of conflicting advice: what day to arrive, which of the 21 fields has the best merch, and even whether you should go for the ribs or the lobster roll (or something kind of amazing we discovered this time called the Pilgrim Sandwich. Seriously, get it.) But the one thing everyone agrees on? Don’t go in July.
Talk about the right place at the wrong time: I left Berlin to come back to New York two weeks ago, and thus managed to miss what may end up being the coolest event of the summer, tonight's opening of Keren Richter and Gabriel Kuo's RATS pop-up shop in Mitte. Kuo, who's an art director and graphic designer, and Richter, an illustrator and artist, are both longtime New Yorkers who (like me) consider Berlin as something of a second home; for RATS, they joined forces to bring the German capital a strange sampling of some of their favorite objects and oddities from New York and beyond, everything from Fort Standard bottle openers to Knicks hats to strange souvenirs they've acquired on their travels. If you're in Berlin or headed there, don't miss the chance to visit the shop at Torstrasse 68 before it closes at the end of August. Otherwise, get a virtual sneak peek at it here, alongside an interview with Richter and Kuo about how and why they put the RATS project together.
Luren Jenison tends to describe her professional life as a “wild goose chase” — a neverending manic hunt through thrift stores, flea markets, and even forests to find the vintage oddities, natural artifacts, and textiles she uses in her elaborate installations. She’s constructed woodland scenes with foraged moss and taxidermied foxes for internal meetings at Anthropologie, set up tableaux with vintage books and building blocks for weddings and corporate galas, and even traveled all the way to China once to find a master joss-paper artisan to help her build a shimmery paper R.V. for a Free People store (he later panicked and pulled out of the project). And yet no matter how spectacular the results, at the end of the day they’re almost all temporary, set up for a night or a week or a month and then disassembled into their constituent parts to be trashed or banished to storage. Only the hunt goes on. If there’s one place you’d expect to find any permanent evidence of Jenison’s talents as both a visual stylist and an eagle-eyed picker, though, it would be in her own home.