Vladimir Kagan's Blog

Small is Beautiful

Small Wonders

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, May 18, 2013

 

On a recent visit to my Daughter Jessica in Connecticut, I was enchanted by a simple music box we bought together in a touristy gift shop on our trip to Paris. It is encased in a tin box and wound with a little red knob to emit a “tinkley” rendition of the Marsaeille. The box is decorated with historic images of the revolution…It’s a cheap toy that one buys on impulse and tosses into a drawer, never to be seen again. However, it’s simplicity and sophistication is quite amazing - a detail that we take for granted.

 

Jessica's Paris souvenir - a music box in a tin can 

The technology of a music box is not new; they first appeared at the end of the 18^th century and were originally made with a perforated metal disk. Over the years, the mechanism was miniaturized into a small cylinder with spiky pins that pluck at thin stands of spring-steel, each fine-tuned to emit a single note on perfect pitch. By plucking a number of these strands at one time they emit a symphony of sounds. By the 19^th Century, music boxes were powered with elaborate clockworks produced by sophisticated Swiss watchmakers. As these instruments became smaller and smaller, they were secreted into snuffboxes and fine jewelry. Not all music boxes necessarily were diminutive. A father and son team of German cabinetmakers, Abraham and David Roentgen, created intricate cabinets with a plethora of hidden gadgets. Amongst these were elaborate armoires that concealed a complete music box orchestra. The Roentgen’s furniture was the rage of all the Royal families of Europe. In a recent exhibit in the Metropolitan Museum an amazing collection of Roentgen cabinets, desk and tables were beautifully exhibited. I was amazed that these elaborated pieces of furniture were so remarkably well preserved in spite of two hundred years of the ravages of wars.

An 18th century music box with a perforated disc, which was later replaced by cylinders

 

A simple hand-held music bax showing the inner working: A spiky cylinder engaging a comb of spring steel hand wound by a knob with a geared worm-screw  

An elaborate music box made by a Swiss watchmaker

An antique music box with a drawer full of interchangeable cylinders - just like a record collection

A Roentgen desk-cabinet with the music box activated hourly by a clock mechanism

A 19th Century snuffbox and gold pendant with a hidden music box

By the earliest 20^th century, music boxes gave way to the player piano, which, with their punch-card technology were the precursor of IBM’s first punch-card computers!

 

Tiny things have always fascinated me. While visiting Boston’s North Bennet Street School, an institution dedicated to fine craftsmanship, I was enamored by a miniature plane, so tiny that it disappears into the palm of a hand; yet a vital precision tool used in violin making.

A violin makers brass plane - used for scooping out the sound-box of the violin

 

I like collection small-gauge toy trains, though they do not qualify as miniature, their exacting details surely do.

 

It was probably my wife Erica’s love for “small” that got me stated in the first place. We have a glass vetrine cabinet filled with Erica’s collection of miniatures including a porcelain tea set befitting a royal dollhouse. As toddlers, our children played with it daily, serving droplets of tea for their imaginary parties.

 

 

 

On my cluttered desk, I have accumulated an assortment of diminutive “toys”: a pair of Italian hand-bound miniature books covered in marbleized paper, originally intended for our grandchildren, but never bestowed on them.

 

 

 

 A jeweler’s loupe that serves me no purpose other than the pleasure of its intricate construction. However, my wife Erica had a more mundane use for it: to check the children for head lice!

I enjoy fondling a small ball bearing disc, which I purchased some years ago to design a hinge for a pair of heavy eight-foot cabinet doors.

 

As we have graduated to bigger things in our lives, we have mostly forgotten the pleasure of small…. Small can be beautiful!

 

What can be more fun than enjoying the toys of our youth?

 

 

 

 Footnote:

Extravagant Inventions: The Princely Furniture of the Roentgens (Metropolitan Museum of Art) [Hardcover]

 

 

 

VLADIMIR KAGAN: MADE IN THE USA

• An Interview with Nathaniel Ross
  Copyright 2013 Haute Living

Nate Ross is a writer and designer, based in Chicago, who recently conducted an in depth interview with me for his client Haute Living, my Chicago showroom. 

“I am evolutionary, not revolutionary. I’ve always designed to fill a void in the lifestyle of the modern home.” ~ Vladimir Kagan

It can be said that designer Vladimir Kagan’s work eludes categorization due to its amoebic form, and eschews interpretation by its mere simplicity. His lines parallel the legato of a Paul Desmond saxophone solo, but can also embody the expression of a Baroque concerto. With an oeuvre spanning over sixty-five years, Kagan’s work, one can argue, is much closer to the art furniture of Wendell Castle than something from the Herman Miller or Knoll collection - but that is the great appeal of a Vladimir Kagan piece. Much more sensual than any modern form that preceded it, Kagan's singular design language was born out of a love of painting and sculpture. This affinity for fine art, an edacious work ethic, and master craftsman skills propelled Kagan into the stratosphere of modern design.   

His career trajectory began in the late 1940's; first while working in his father's furniture shop in New York, and then later opening his own shop on 57th Street. One commission lead to the next, and soon Kagan was designing furniture and interiors for the political, cultural, and business elite. His success continued through the decades, inventing new forms and applying new materials to his furniture designs, ambitiously writing his place in the Pantheon of contemporary furniture design.

And now, in his mid-80's, there is no sign of him slowing down. He carefully manages his family and work life, dividing his active schedule primarily between his apartment in Manhattan, his new 24,000 square foot factory and archival showroom in New Jersey, and his home on Nantucket. On top of being Vladimir Kagan the designer, Vladi, as he is affectionately known, is a loving father and grandfather, active blogger, world traveler, and so much more. He was kind enough to sit down with Haute Living to have a candid conversation about his life, his work, his writing, and the future of Vladimir Kagan Design.       

HL: Your father was a master cabinetmaker with his own shop, first in Europe and then in the U.S. The influence your father had on you as a designer is an intriguing part of your life story. Tell us about that relationship.

VK: We had a very artistic family. My father was a furniture maker, but he was also a serious art collector. Before World War II, he had two art galleries, collecting the art of Viennese and German Expressionists. Many of the major artists of the day were drifting in and out of our home, and so I was always surrounded by very creative people. The core of my creativity, however, stemmed from my father who was a major influence in my life’s work. He encouraged me in my development, and felt it was vital to learn how to draw properly. He also taught me the ingredients of furniture making. We had different handwriting, so-to-speak, but he was okay with that. I went on to study architecture, and this experience taught me to have an appreciation for structure, and to be disciplined in my craft. However, the yin yang of my life, the other side of me, wanted to be an artist, a painter, and a sculptor – and so I would do a lot of life study sketches and drawings from nature. I remember being really interested in anatomy class where I learned a lot about the way the body functions. All of this I think interplayed with how my designs evolved.

Photo by Todd Selby

HL: You were surrounded by artists in your childhood, and you lived with one for over five decades. Your late wife, Erica Wilson, was a textile artist and a very talented designer in her own right. Are Erica’s designs going to be something Vladimir Kagan Design will reproduce in the future?

VK: That would be a nice tribute to her. We actually have two brilliant archival students cataloging her designs with the hopes of it all going to a museum so that people could see her truly wonderful creations some day. Her shop on Nantucket, Erica Wilson, which my daughter Vanessa runs, has a number of Erica’s designs there.

HL: You spend a great deal of time on Nantucket. What is your history with the island, and do you work while you are there? 

VK: I’ve always had a love affair with Nantucket. I took Erica there while we were dating, and then I asked her to marry me on that island. We both fell in love with it and about a year after our first child was born, Erica was asked to teach a needlework class there during the summer, and so we said, “Why not?” We accepted a rental house sight unseen and ended up loving it. We rented it for years and made several offers on it, but the owner wasn’t interested selling. After about 10 years she said, “You guys love it so much, I’ll sell it to you.” It’s the house we’ve lived in ever since! And even though I’ve lived in the same New York City apartment for over 45 years, I feel the house on Nantucket really is more “home” than any other place.

HL: What is your Nantucket home like?

VK: Even though I design modern furniture, the home is more or less an antique, and I keep it that way – I just love it! I have one piece of my furniture there, and some outdoor furniture that I designed, but that is all. I don’t feel the need to live with my furniture. I do my creative work there, and I have a wonderful studio where I can be imaginative and inventive. My drawing table, my computer, and a great Kagan chair, that is all I need!

HL: There are very few modern furniture designers whose work are produced and manufactured in the United States. Haute Living likes to support American designers. What does being an American designer mean to you personally?

VK: We started our manufacturing in America in 1944, and we’ve been manufacturing in America ever since. There’s a certain pride in keeping my designs American-made. I’ve always been influenced by the needs of the modern American home, and attuned to the American way of life. Though this has inspired my designs, they are 100% universal in that America is the most global country on Earth – from the 6’6” man to the very petite, I design for everyone!

HL: You mentioned your house on Nantucket as being “antique.” What is your opinion on the market for moderndesign in the United States? What are your thoughts on the Chicago market for modern design?

VK: I think American taste and interest have continually grown for good quality, modern furniture design. But when I came into the picture in the 1950’s, I think less then 10% of the American market wanted modern furniture. I believe that young people today are much more into modern design and not hanging on to tradition like generations of the past. And Chicago is truly a modern city with all of its great architecture – it is always thinking. We have a lot of expectations for the city of Chicago.

HL: Your blog is about your life, your travels, and everyday trivialities. How did blogging come about?           

VK: It’s sort of a stream of conscience journal when I’m inspired to write. It takes a lot of my creative time, but it’s also a very stimulating mind exercise and it allows me to give structure to my thought process, which is very helpful when I’m designing. I have a lot of unfinished, half-stories that I have to complete, hopefully soon.

Photo by Todd Selby

HL: What are your thoughts on modern art today? I read one of your recent blog posts about the Armory Art Show in New York, and you didn’t have too many positive things to say about what you saw!

VK: Well, I did see some things I liked, too! My son, Illya, is a en plein air painter on Nantucket with a very good following and reputation. How does he describe the value of art? He says it’s “the cost of the canvas and the cost of the paint, and that is it. Art is defined in the eye of the observer.” Art today is a response to the need to be flashy, to make a statement, and the competition to be different than the next artist. If it looks like a Mondrian or a Matisse, it won’t make it into the museums. So they have to be inventive and work very hard at being different, and a lot of it is just not good. You don’t have to have millions of dollars to own good art, you just have to have a good eye.

HL: Much of your design work is considered mid-century design, though it really transcends time, periods, and styles. What was it like to be a furniture designer in the 1950’s and 1960’s?

VK: There wasn’t too much design happening during the years of the Great Depression and during World War II, so it was very exciting to be creating a new design language in a sense. Looking back, I never considered myself a mid-century designer. In the 1950’s, there was a conflagration of mass produced furniture, and when all of this was going on, I ardently stuck to the old tradition of producing and selling hand-made furniture. It was my father’s motto that I adhered to: “Ehre das Handwerk,” which means “All of the Handwork.” I designed furniture that was functional – it attests itself to a more casual lifestyle. Much of the furniture at the time was in the style of “formal boring” – and so I designed as a reaction to this. There was also an appetite by the public and by the press for something new. It was the right ingredients, the right chemistry, and the right time to do something fresh. It was very invigorating.

HL: Tell us about the future of Vladimir Kagan Design Group and its new showroom in New Jersey?

VK: Yes, we've found a remarkable home in an old mill building in New Jersey. We want to grow Vladimir Kagan Design slowly and solidly. We don’t want to explode it. Over the years I have been prolific, and so now we have an archive of over 700 designs from which we can go fishing for new introductions. But the main objective is organic growth, and with Joe (Vitagliano) as my business partner, and my son, Illya, Vladimir Kagan Design will be steered into the future by very capable hands.

HL: Any new designs in the works?

VK: I'm always thinking about new creations. I do new designs for designers, architects, and private clients, which has been an outlet for a lot of my creativity recently. But these pieces are exclusive, and the main focus is to keep the showrooms exciting. We regularly have design meetings to discuss rollout of new ideas, so we are constantly adding to the collection. Haute Living will need to keep expanding its space as there will be new Vladimir Kagan pieces in its showroom very, very soon!

HL: Vladimir, it was a pleasure speaking with you! Thank you for your time.

VK: You are very welcome!

Haute Living is truly honored to bring you the designs of Vladimir Kagan. For more information about the work of Vladimir Kagan, or to see the newly installed Vladimir Kagan furniture in-person, visit Haute Living’s showroom in Chicago, or view it here.

Interview by Nathaniel Ross

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Enjoy The Financial Times Article on Me from This Weekend

‘I’m supposed to be a minimalist’

By Shannon Bond

Vladimir Kagan has designed furniture for clients from Marilyn Monroe to Tom Ford. At 85, he is expanding his business

©Brian Shumway

Kagan in his daughter Vanessa’s sitting room

Vladimir Kagan’s elegant mid-century furniture has graced the home of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, Tom Ford’s Gucci stores and a Giorgio Armani restaurant in Italy. But the German-born designer’s Upper East Side apartment is a far cry from the “less is more” philosophy that inspires his work.

In the living room, his sculptural chairs and zigzagging green sofa compete for space with a collection of Buddha heads, several large statues, a smattering of plants and candles, an upright piano and a birdcage big enough to hold a man – home to Conrad the canary.

“I’m supposed to be a minimalist – I’m a maximalist. So I say, ‘Do as I say, not as I do,’” the 85-year-old laughs. Today is no exception: he is dressed in a pink striped shirt, red corduroy trousers and crimson braces.

His colourful attire fits in with the living room’s vibe: rainbow-hued Haitian paintings and African masks hang on deep green walls with gold-trimmed mouldings, while Mexican animal figurines trot across the mantelpiece. In the dining room, china and glass fills floor-to-ceiling cabinets, while the entryway and halls are dotted with paintings, some by Kagan’s son, Illya, and others from his father’s collection of works by German expressionists. There are also intricately embroidered pillows and textiles by Kagan’s late wife, Erica Wilson, all around the apartment.

At 4,000 square feet, the rambling 10-room property, which Kagan and Wilson bought for $140,000 in 1969, is more than twice the size of a typical Manhattan home, and in a way it feels like two distinct spaces. The front half is a riot of colour, where even a bathroom is wallpapered in a vintage geometric design. Step down a hallway, though, and you’ve entered the pale and airy domain of Kagan’s daughter, Vanessa, her husband and three daughters. There is a large, sunny bedroom, a smaller sitting room and three narrow maids’ rooms off the kitchen, which have become the girls’ bedrooms.

Kagan leads into Vanessa’s sitting room, where we find Vanessa along with the family dog, Toby. A large abstract painting of what look like cherry blossoms, by the Japanese artist James Hiroshi Suzuki, glows softly red against white walls and a beige carpet.

“[Vanessa] would like nothing better than for me to paint [the front half] white,” Kagan says. “The dark looks good in the other room.”

“The dark looks good, we should paint the whole house dark. Black walls,” Vanessa affectionately ribs her father.

Kagan leans back on a grey, kidney-shaped sofa – one of his own – and points out other designs from his long career. There is a roll-top desk on metal legs from the 1950s and a leather and wood rocker that is both sensuous and simple. Behind an electric guitar is a tall cabinet with a leaf that folds out into a small desk, “typical of what I did in the 1940s, that architectural look”.

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  At Home with Vladimir Kagan and his dog Toby

  ©Brian Shumway
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  Looking into his bedroom from the bathroom, which is lined with vintage wallpaper

  ©Brian Shumway
• Kagan’s desk in his bedroom is covered with items collected on his travels

  ©Brian Shumway
• A grandfather clock stands in the entryway

  ©Brian Shumway
• In the living room, the paintings are from Haiti and the figurines are Mexican, all collected on travels with his late wife Erica

  ©Brian Shumway
• Kagan sits on an Omnibus sofa that he designed

  ©Brian Shumway
• A wooden jewellery box made by Vladimir when he was at school

  ©Brian Shumway
• Kagan’s Cycle I Chair in bent walnut sits in a corner of the dining room

  ©Brian Shumway
• The birdcage with Kagan’s canary, Conrad

  ©Brian Shumway
• Kagan’s favourite thing is this chess set. It was carved by Kagan’s father, who turned to sculpture after retiring from his cabinet shop

  ©Brian Shumway
• Silk and glass flowers on a sideboard in the dining room

  ©Brian Shumway

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Like the rest of the apartment, the sitting room is an archive of Kagan’s creative work over the past seven decades, stretching back to his days as a student at New York’s High School of Industrial Arts.

“I had a lot of exposure to good, modern design,” Kagan says of his early years, and he developed a firm sense of likes and dislikes. Italian furniture was “baroque, over the top, unjustifiable”. Scandinavian designs were appealing, but still “more industrial” than what he preferred.

Inspired by the Bauhaus, he developed a style that emphasised comfort and functionality, epitomised in the very piece he’s sitting on – the Serpentine sofa, designed in 1949 – and his 1947 barrel chair. “A lot of modern furniture was not comfortable. And so comfort is: form follows function; the function was to make it comfortable.”

Kagan also sought to strip down design to its simplest non-decorative form, and he points to the rocker – its sinuous wooden frame characteristic of his 1950s “contour” style – as an example of this ideal. “The joints reflected roots and trees and bones and knuckle. That’s a knuckle there on the arm. I used a lot of human anatomy ... I created what I called vessels for the human body.”

Today, these designs are back in demand with the vogue for mid-century style. “Who knew that I would live to see the day when a sofa of mine would fetch $193,000 at auction?” he mused in a recent blog post.

Even after decades of success, Kagan still seems tickled by the idea that celebrities and design magazines are clamouring for his work. The son of a Russian-born cabinetmaker, who fled Germany with his family on the eve of the second world war, Kagan got an early start in his father’s workshop in New York.

“I was not well suited to being a good cabinetmaker. I was too impatient, impulsive,” he says. “My father always said to me, ‘Vladi, measure three times and cut once.’ And I would cut three times without bothering to measure ... But I was damn good at conceptual ideas.”

A talent for drawing and the encouragement of an attentive teacher pointed him towards architecture, which he went on to study at Columbia University. But Kagan was already making a name for himself in furniture design, and returned to the business after finishing his degree.

©Brian Shumway

The living room of Kagan’s apartment features a painting by US artist Frank Stella

He got an early break when he was commissioned to make cocktail furniture for the United Nations’ temporary headquarters in Lake Success, New York, and he went on to work with pioneering industrial designer Raymond Loewy, before opening his own shop in the late 1940s. Kagan’s early clients included Marilyn Monroe and Gary Cooper, and, later on, companies including Monsanto and General Electric.

Today, the soaring prices of his vintage work present a challenge to his latest project: an archive of his pieces at a new showroom in New Jersey. The oldest work is a blue leather and wood dining chair built in 1946 for his parents – the first design he made real.

“Almost all of the interesting work I’ve done over the past, there are no records of it any more,” he says. “It’s not like in architecture – they build mortar and bricks and stone and it becomes a monument. I work in a home, and when people move out, the place gets destroyed. They die and it ends up at auction.”

Though age and health issues have brought an end to his daily runs in nearby Central Park, Kagan has no shortage of energy. Reproductions of his classic styles are for sale at a growing number of US showrooms, he does bespoke work for individual clients, he writes lively posts about his work and family for his blog, and he is working with interior designer Amy Lau on $150,000 worth of furniture for a new showroom in Saudi Arabia.

“We are expanding, at a time when retirement isn’t an unappealing thing,” he says. “It’s keeping me very busy and I think it’s very healthy.”

There is also the travel – already this year he has been to France for the Maison & Objet interiors show, and to Palm Beach and Disney World with his grandchildren. This summer he will spend driving his Model T car around Nantucket, where his family has spent vacations for decades.

Kagan approaches it all with optimism and humour. He joked on his blog about his “mission” at Maison & Object: “To be the ‘trophy’ for visitors from all corners of the world to cluster around and chat with me and have their picture taken with an ‘icon’.”

Even at Disney World, he ran into another moment in his long career history: the Carousel of Progress, an exhibit originally designed for the General Electric pavilion at the 1964 World’s Fair, which Kagan helped to research. The final product bore little resemblance to his design, he says, but the experience stuck with him.

“There’s nothing I ever learnt in school or any place that hasn’t come to be useful,” he says. “Nothing has ever been wasted.”

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©Brian Shumway

Favourite thing

A chess set in Kagan’s study was hand-carved by his father, who turned to sculpture in later life after retiring from the cabinet shop. “He loved playing chess,” says Kagan, looking over the chunky, geometric pieces and recalling hours spent on the other side of the board. Other pieces by the elder Kagan are lined up on a shelf near his desk, and two large sculptures take pride of place in the living room – next to the fruit of his son’s labours.

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2013.

A visit to Peanut island

How To Cure the Doldrums In Palm Beach

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, March 29, 2013

 

Ten days of sitting by the poolside, baking in the sun, or alternately dodging the wind, can become tedious.  

 

sittin' by the pool and getting bored

 When the small kids got restless, we headed for Disney World. Now my adult family is afflicted with the same syndrome: boredom. We all need diversion.

What’s a better thing to do than to see how the world beyond ours lives? Our world is Palm Beach Island – separated from the mainland by three bridges, an active water channel from Lake Worth to the ocean, and shielded from the real world with serene seclusion behind high-hedged mansions, Condos and expensive boutiques… A two-minute drive over any of the bridges transports you into the real world. West Palm Beach is a beehive of diversity. The downtown area is awash with half empty high-rises, Condos built during the Real Estate Frenzy. There is a weekly Farmer’s Market, a plethora of cool and noisy restaurants and some quite hidden and secret “finds”. There is a huge, impressive new County Court House to deal with lawsuits, land deals and criminals that inhabit the neighborhood. This week there is the West Palm Beach Boat Show. For culture there is the Kravis Center, The Norton Museum, the Armory Art Center, the Science Museum and a delightful Zoo.

There are man-made lakes, the byproduct of swamp drainage – Disney wasn’t the only smart cookie finding Florida’s hidden treasure: land development! There are new strip malls and abandoned malls.  The Palm Beach Lakes mall is today a ghost with only J. C. Penny remaining its sole occupant all else is flattened. There are new malls; City Place, is a highly successful complex of restaurants, movie Theater, shops, residences, plazas, fountains and parking for thousands of cars. A few miles further north you have the Palm Beach Garden Mall and the famous golf courses with their gated communities.

US-1 is the major north – south road known in these parts as the Dixie highway. Heading south on Dixie you’ll find “antique heaven” with tempting boutiques block after block. Going north and the atmosphere changes. You begin to experience West Palm’s underclass. There are mysterious one-story buildings, cheerfully painted bright yellow, pale blue, and orange, mostly windowless, except for the few that are clad with iron bars. These buildings conceal huge liquor stores, small manufacturing and a brightly painted pink house hiding Bush Bros. the finest butcher and purveyor of prime meats to every pricy restaurant in Palm Beach Country. Drive one block east and you find enclaves of Old Palm Beach’s well preserved mid-century villas, pleasing low-profile architecture with palm trees, gardens and streets carefully paved with brick speed bumps.

Continue North and these little communities give way to another world: Cheap motels cheek to jowl, fifty bucks a night and probably negotiable for shorter stays. You have entered a no-man’s land. Loitering is the chief occupation of some of its residents.  Drive on and within minutes you are in the Port of Palm Beach, a bustling container ship port serving the Bahamas, which lies 90 miles across the “pond”. Tied up to one of the piers is an massive converted ferry that served as a gambling ship, but now lies bankrupted and seeking new suckers to invest to the tune of 20 million! There is a colossal power station under construction to replace the old coal guzzling one. One hopes it will be eco friendly, but that may be wishful thinking., knowing Florida’s disregard for it’s own survival in favor of fast-bucks. For years the cooling basins for the generators was a tourist attraction to see hundreds of Manatees enjoying the warm waters. These aquatic mammals are now on the endangered species list; harmless creatures that are being decimated by careless speedboats, whose propellers cut deep ridged into their back and they eventually die.

Less than a half-mile North of this industrial complex is Riviera Beach, a salty enclave of fishing boats, entertaining waterfront bars and the ferry to Peanut Island. Riviera Beach comes right out of central casting with all the salty seafront characters to add color and interesting conversation. Sport fishing boats return at the end of the day, their captains’ gut the day’s catch right at the wharf, slinging the entrails to the hungry waiting pelicans poised in the water with open beaks. These awkward, rather unusual looking birds are the same glorious flying creatures idealized by my wife Erica in one of her poems:

 

 Passage Of The Pelicans

Erica Wilson Kagan

April 15, 2009

The sea is glistening silver blue

The sky is washed, the clouds are new

The pelicans, a measured band

Unwavering, fly where sea meets sand

They’re motionless, yet moving fast

On unseen air they’re sailing past.

 

hungry pelicans wait patiently for fish guts to be tossed to them

 
For the kiddies there is a great pirate ship complete with water cannons

  

For the grownups there is a salvage ship that goes regularly off-shore on treasure hunts for sunken galleons and sailing ships that sank three hundred years ago off the Florida coast

 
We were fortunate enough to meet one of the crew, who explained the awkward contraption on the boat's stern: they are huge underwater blowers that dislodge the sand around the sunken ship, clearing it enough for divers to go down and inspect it.

 

If your taste is for antique yachts, there was a beauty tied up to a nearby pier, most likely available for charter.

AN ARIAL VIEW OF PEANUT ISLAND 

Peanut Island (I don't know how it got its name - perhaps because it is so small) is a ten minute boat ride from Riviera Beach. It is nestled in a lagoon between Singer Island, Palm Beach and the Lakeworth inlet.

Peanut is a tropical Island in the middle of a bustling harbor

We embarked for Peanut Island with our blond, handsome and suntanned captain, who regaled us with local lore. 

Coming in from the ocean was this enormous freighter, transporting luxury yachts for the Boat Show.

The closer it got the bigger it loomed. this was a Dutch registry boat

Peanut Island is a man-made 80 acres of dredged sand and stone, tossed there by the Army Core of Engineers as thy created the Lake Worth Inlet. The island’s initial mission was to serve as a safe-haven bunker for President John F. Kennedy. (Coincidentally so was the Naval Station on Nantucket Island) Today, Peanut Island is a delightful recreational oasis covered with lush vegetation, Palm trees, Palmetto trees, sea grass for nesting birds, incubating fish and camping grounds with man-made lagoons for snorkeling. There is a small museum dedicated to JFK memorabilia. No motorizes vehicles are allowed, so I left my electric scooter at home and manipulated with my walker.

This time around, I am not toot-tootling on my scooter but hiking on my walker (I'm really not that fat, only layered with sweaters against the cold!)

Matt, my son-in-law and one of his daughters about to dive into the cold water for some snorkeling 

While the brave were out snorkeling, Vanessa and I explored these peaceful man-made lagoons

the Kennedy Museum, which was unfortunately closed for the day.

Snorkeling is a gentle family pastime; we were all poised to dive into the water, until the children, one by one cooed “it is COLD!” that was enough to deter Vanessa and me. We spent a delightful 2 hours exploring a little bit of the island until our chilled snorkelers returned to dry land.

 

Our return drive down Dixie provided one additional revelation. We have for years passed a little one-story building with a discrete sign painted on its walls, “Middle Eastern Bakery”. This time we did not pass it. Entering its inconspicuous driveway we came across a little Mom and Pop grocery store laden with exotic Middle Eastern goodies. The friendly proprietors were as hospitable as we were happy to discover them, except we were not the first to discover this hidden treasure. Anyone in the know knew about this little oasis. For us it was a revelation. We stocked up on hummus, French feta cheese, babaghannuj, mint yogurt, baklavas and just two of their twelve differed selections of halva. Thus fortified, it was no hardship to return to the pool and an unexpected feast in the Cabana.

Our "discovery", the Middle Eastern Bakery and its unprepossessing market

The amazing refrigirated display case with all the exotic goodies

the check-out ounter with our delicious pic-nic

 

Not bad for a day of prowling through new territory just to escape the doldrums!

Disney World through the eyes of Grandpa

 

 

Disney World Revisited

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, March 20, 2013

 

Grandpa Vladi with two granddaughters, Annecy and Ondine at Disney World 

What to do with visiting grandchildren in Florida? Take them to Disney World, of course!

Don’t think of it as only a kiddy park . Disney World is a family affair.  Disney World is a colossal Empire. Well done! because it is Disney.

 

I returned to Disney World forty-years after our first visit and entered a time warp! Nothing has changed. (At least, so it appeared). They may have added more chilling rides, (I was terrified to do them then and certainly smart enough not to do them now.) They’ve added themes like Pirates of the Caribbean, There are rides for the timid and rides for the brave. This time, my best ride was on my Electric Scooter. Miraculously, in the three days of tootling along the streets of Disney, scattering thousands of people, I avoided hitting anyone!

 

Scattering the crowds in Fantasy Land with my nimble electric scooter... Annecy is hitching a ride

Ondine on the Railroad that circles Disney World.... Below, me and the Locomotive

Minnie Mouse still does her cute dance. The hourly parades with clowns, acrobats and bands continue to attract the crowds. New themes blend seamlessly into the old and the old looks like it came out of the box yesterday.  The Carousel Of The Future is still the same corny exhibit that I worked on 49 years ago*)… Forty years ago, we stayed at The Contemporary; it was then a state-of-the-art hotel, where the Monorail coasts through the center of its cavernous lobby, a most impressive sight for its time. The Monorail was to be the transportation of the future...sleek, streamlined, silent.  It never caught on and is today only a novelty. Three days at Disney is not enough. Most people take a week (there seemed to be no recession worries).  In our three days, we managed to visit The Magic Kingdom, Epcot and The Typhoon Lagoon.

 

Mickie Mouse dancing at the show in the Magic Kingdom...with Donald Duck looking on

The Mgic Kingdom in its full glory... still fresh after forty years

A non-scary ride... the Tea Cup Carousel

Illya clowning in a Pirate's Hat (which we bought - of course)  Right photo: This is NOT a bag lady - just a visitor after having done all her shopping... the baby is not to be seen

The Contemporary Hotel, still an impressive sight with the Monorail running through it

Disney World is run with military precision. Maintenance is impeccable; not a candy wrapper or chewing gum on the sidewalks.  There are 65,000 employees with perpetual smiles, who are the friendliest people on Earth. There is no one at Disney that doesn’t have a kind answer to your question…. always helpful, always happy… until they go off duty!  Then, I am told, these friendly people become morose; so sick of smiling that they barely talk to their neighbors.

 

This is a colossal complex of 5 theme parks with twenty-one residential enclaves that can accommodate thousands of guests. This mammoth entity covers forty-seven square miles of resurrected swamps, which Walt Disney cleverly acquired as worthless land.  He then excavated huge tracts, which he drained and transformed into bucolic lakes and verdant islands. It is a complex twice the size of Manhattan Island! The lakes are plied by dozens of Mississippi River Boats (assembled on location in Disney’s efficient shipyard).  All the parks and residential villages are located on their shores. What fascinated me was the brilliant engineering that has gone into every attraction; not movie-set facades, but virtual reality; labyrinths of walkways through damp caverns, waterfalls cascading down mountains and steep cliffs. Main Street USA is a fantasy of turn-of-the-century villages replete with horse drawn trolleys, theme restaurants, and always the ubiquitous gift shops raking in millions of dollars.

 

Below, are a few photos of Epcot from Disney's photo library

    

Our first day was spent at Typhoon Lagoon. This water-soaked enclave offered a dizzying roller-coaster ride that whisked its human cargo through dark tunnels, hairpin turns, finally spitting them out into a tranquil lagoon. (I skipped this thrill!) Next we played on a man-made beach crowded with umbrellas, beach chairs and tons of sand, just like any jam-packed ocean beach resort. The beach comes complete with a breathtaking seven-foot high wave; a man-made Tsunami repeated every 90 seconds. The most exciting adventure was an attraction called Swimming With Sharks. Indeed Illya and  Annecy did just that.  I was assured by the Life Guards that the sharks are very well fed each day and have no interest in people, but the adrenaline still flowed.

  

We got right into the spirit of things: buying towels for the day at the Lagoon

Everything at Disney is done with painstaking authenticity - here's the family in front of a fish shack

This high and dry stranded boat came alive every five minutes blowing a soulful whistle

The scary Swimming with Sharks required plunging into a 65 degree water.                                            Below: a close-up of Illya and Annecy threading their way through "shark infested water"!

The family being eaten by a giant shark!

This bucolic beach scene spews out a seven foot wave every 90 seconds

Sequential photos of the building wave and Illya catching a ride

 

a benign float down a Lazy River

We spent the next two nights in Fort Wilderness Cabins, efficient Log Cabins the size of a trailer, surrounded by Bald Cyprus trees; the residue of the drained swamps. There were more luxurious places to stay, but none had rooms for us. Not too far from our campsite was the impressive Wilderness Lodge, a huge log-cabin style Western hotel 6 stories tall. However, if you preferred your atmosphere to be South Pacific you could stay at the Polynesian, if you favored the Tropics, there was the Caribbean and if you were more comfortable in an old world environment, there was Saratoga. These are just a few of the twenty-one choices available (providing that you made your reservations early).

    
the cavernous lobby of the Fort Wilderness Hotel

roughing it in the reclaimed swamps of Fort Wilderness

Annecy and Lori roasting marshmallows in a fire pit in Fort Wilderness

Our visit ended at Epcot; where you are welcomed into an entire micro replica of the World. You enter this world underneath a huge globe, which the children immediately said looked like the largest golf ball ever made. Epcot is an adult playground consisting of Las Vegas style theme Architecture from Italy’s Venice with convincing replicas of the Doge’s palace, the Campanile and decent restaurants.  A few steps away you are in Morocco complete with a souk, narrow streets, a bandstand with authentic Middle-Eastern music, and the best belly dancing I have seen in years. You can visit China with amazing acrobatic performances, go to England and walk up cobbled streets and into authentic Pubs. Japan is a half-mile away with exquisite temples and excellent Sushi restaurants. Epcot has enough diversions to also amuse the children including a spectacular fireworks display synchronized to music. Above all, Epcot is a colossal money making machine without the gambling tables of Vegas.

 

Post Script

 

Our visit would not have been so amazing had it not been for Lori Mannel, our guardian angel, who has worked at Disney for the past seven years. In an earlier life, Lorie was the spirited, entertaining babysitter for our granddaughters. When my Mother needed help, she switched tacks and became her loving caregiver until her death. Lorie is a one-of-a-kind.  At Disney, she has worked through the ranks doing every odd job thrown at her in the transportation department from bus driver to equipment maintenance to dispatcher to keeping the buses spotless. And like her 65,000 coworkers, she loves Disney World; it’s her family.  When Lori takes a vacation, she doesn't go home to Nebraska; she pitches a ten in the Fort Wilderness and roughs it for a week.  Lori is the salt-of-the-Earth.  She is the heroine in every one of Carl Hiaasen’s Florida-based books.  She and her friend Cathy are birds-of-a-feather. They call themselves “The Evil Twins” having both driven night buses throughout the Disney complex. Cathy spent several years as an engineer, driving Disney’s genuine antique Steam Locomotives. (I am a railroad buff)... These are NOT buses disguises as trains, they are antique steam engines, meticulously restored. To generate the required steam, they have been converted to use diesel fuel instead of coal and wood... all else is original! Six of these locomotives were found rusting away in the Yucatan and purchases by Walt Disney's brother to be restored in America for Disney’s theme parks.

 

Our friend Lori with her "Evil Sister" Cathy taking a bus-man's Holiday at Disney

Grandpa Vladi is ready to go back anytime grandchildren turn up!

 

 

* The Carousel of the Future is a relic transported from the 1964 - 1965 New York Worlds Fair to Orlando. The Disney folks call this the longest running show on earth.  

It was originally THE GENERAL ELECTRIC PAVILION
 
"Peace through Understanding" was the theme of the exhibit. PROGRESSLAND Under a huge, gleaming dome suspended from spiraling pipes, the GE exhibit depicted the history of electricity, from its beginnings to the mighty bang of nuclear fusion.

I remember scouring General Electric plants around the country in search of memorabilia of the past as well as examples for the future. My visits took me from home-appliance plants to locomotive factories with weekly commutes to Disney in Anaheim and back to Nantucket for the weekend. It was a memorable year!

 

 P.P.S.

When the next family arrived in Palm Beach and couldn't make it to Orlando, they found their thrills at the Rapid Water Park just fifteen minutes North of Palm Beach!

           

          The girls took their first plunge on a timid water slide

          

           

The girls became more courageous and tried surfing the wave - until they wiped out! For this amazing ride, the water actually is jetted up the slope to create a permanent wave.

           

           

            

             

                 

The kids were fearless and had the time of their lives!

 

These amazing photos were taken by my daughter Vanessa, who stayed safely out of harms way and most importantly, remained dry.

A Sunday Stroll through New York's Art Scene

 

The Armory Art Show
Copyright Vladimir Kagan, March 12. 2013

Marcel Duchamp's Nude Descending A Stair - The controversial painting that started it all in 1913

 A New York happening not to be missed… and miraculously, I was in town and had the good fortune of persuading a dear friend to push me in a wheelchair around this vast exhibit. Unfortunately, from my low vantage point (almost a worm’s eye view) I did not get the pertinent information on the Artists or gallery’s name. As a result I am treating you to an anomalous tour of the exhibit with random photos taken on my iPhone.

                                       
         A recent photo of the 69th Regiment Armory on Park Avenue - not changed since 1913
 
The original Armory Art Show in 1913 was held at the 69th Regiment Armory on Park Avenue and was an overwhelming success. It introduced Modern Art to America. The audience was dazzled by the European Avant Garde artists such as Duchamp, Miro, and Leger. It was an eye- opener for American collectors and became the granddaddy of many similar shows for decades to come. 2013 marks the 100th anniversary of this epic event and is being officially celebrated by three exhibits around the country. ”The New Spirit” American Art in the Armory show 1913 which opened at the Montclair Art Museum on February 17, a hundred years to the day from the original! The second exhibition is being organized by the New York Historical Society, entitled “The Armory Show at 100”, to take place from October 18 through February 23, 2014. The “Fountain Art Fair”, named after Duchamp’s famous “Fountain”, which was the symbol of the Fair, took place this past week from March 8 – 10 at the 69th Regiment Armory itself. The show that has just closed at the Piers had actually usurped the famous name and is not a direct descendant of the original. Nonetheless, it was the timeliest event of all the tributes.
 
The “Armory Show” legend was rekindled in 1994, when a show opened in the spacious Hudson River Piers 92 and 94. Its name was an homage to the original exhibit; not to mention its drawing card value! The show has grown in importance yearly. Today’s extravaganza featured over 200 exhibitors from all over the world.
 
The cavernous space in both Piers made for an airy, entertaining experience, regardless if you were a serious collector or just out for an afternoon’s stroll.

        
An enterprising gallery initiated a competition to honor the original Duchamp painting - there were over a half dozen entries.... here are two examples

 
Pier 94 was hip, outrageous, vulgar. To me it was the epitome of “Much Ado about Nothing” – or what NOT to like about modern art. Prices were outlandish; most of this “art” was sure to appeal to the nouveau-riche collector who respects a hefty price tag to convince him and his friends that he has purchased a work of singular value.

I loved photographing some of these “chutzpa” works that pased as art! -  But art is a subjective thing, as my son Illya, who makes his living as an artist, so wisely says, “A painting is worth the cost of the canvas and the paint… all else is in the eye of the beholder”.

The first exhibit we encountered was this "exquisite" work of art... I neglected to ask for the price!

 
Close by, in another gallery, I found these outstanding works, each selling for $20,000 a piece (there were at least five or six more). I urge you all to go the the dump and resurrect some of these potential works of art to make your fortune!

How's about a stair with a slinky? - fun for all the family!

This was another gem... right out of grandma's attic

If you are a "breast lover" here is one with seven... please note the homage to an Indian temple painting!

For devotees of the industrial age, this was a sewing machine in constant motion stitching miles of ribbon! 

Perhaps the gem of gems was this salvaged snowman from the recent blizzards... it sold for $50,000!!!

                                                   

I love trees, so this little gem appealed to me.. probably because it is in my favorite color: Red

Having sated ourselves on the “what’s new in modern” we fought the crowds to Pier 92, just a block to the south…. The French have a wonderful saying “quelle différence!” … “What a difference!” We walked from gallery to gallery immersed in art that was a joy to behold; some masters of the 20th Century, others lesser known. Even if you didn’t recognize the name of the artist or the year it was created, you knew that you were looking at a serious work of Art. Prices were in line with expectation; unlike some of the flashy objects on display at Pier 94, here was value for the money.

Here I am exposing my "soft underbelly" and showing you the paintings that I liked... you may disagree with me...

What's there not to like about a Frank Stella?

It is unlikely that you would find these works on my walls, but I did consider them interesting and worthwhile.

You cannot flog the furniture designer out of me... these wonderful chairs and stools were NOT part of the exhibit, but were there for the comfort of the visitors

...And finally, the only way to beat the lines to the show was to arrive in your private yacht... moored on the next Pier!

 

It was redemption…. Modern is alive and well.
 
I’m already looking forward to next year’s show.

 

 

The Vladimir Kagan Design Group and its Archives

 

An Archive Sixty-five Years in the Making  

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, February 24,2013

 

The Vladimir Kagan Archives, a fledgling idea that has simmered for years and is finally coming to fruition. It is an offshoot of a well-organized entity called the Vladimir Kagan Design Group Inc.; the successful home base of all of my diverse activities. This organization carries on the tradition of my father’s cabinet shop to make the finest handcrafted furniture made today. Yes, our craftsmen use some aspects of modern technology to accomplish our traditional comfort and high standard of quality. We have switched from a mouthful of upholstery tacks extracted nail by nail with a magnetized hammer… (An action now a days more akin to a circus act, which few younger upholsterers even know how to do; comparable to driving my Model T versus driving a new automatic shift car…) We have switched to the more efficient, safer power stapler. However, that is about the only concession to modernity in our upholstery. We still pride ourselves in starting with hardwood frames, eight-way tied coil springs with horsehair topping, burlap strapping, muslin under-covers and hand sewn finished upholstery. In our woodwork we have adopted electronic scanners to help us better achieve my multi-carved contouring instead of using the ancient spoke shaver. Still today, every new introduction must pass my scrutiny and hands-on fine-tuning before it goes into our workshops

 

My father, Illi Kagan, in his cabinet shop, teaching me the fine art of furniture making ca.1953

My Barrel Chair, from the 40s, shown in it's hardwood frame and eight-way tied coilspting seat... That's how we did it then.... that's how we do it today

 

The Vladimir Kagan Design Group coordinates and oversees my worldwide activities; it is my support team for the bespoke consulting services that I provide to Designers and Architects. It is the conduit for all of our representative showrooms around the country. It organizes the complex shipping to our clients in many corners of the world. It is the depot for storing all the component parts of my designs to assure efficient delivery of my furniture, and finally, it is the custodian of my valuable archives.

I have been collecting my furniture whenever and wherever it became available and affordable. “Affordable” has vanished quite a few years ago, but occasionally there were items that I could not resist. Over time, I have accumulated a substantial collection of rare Kagan specimens. These treasures were stacked on pallet rack in my crowded warehouse… collecting dust. They have survived four moves in the last twenty-five years… And the collection has kept on growing.

   

A rare Erica Wilson embroidered chair acquired over forty years ago

The vitrine cabinet I designed for my parent's home in Woodstock, NY in the late 40s... rescued and in the Archives

My High School project - a rendering of a dining room - it became the first chair that I actually built

 

Some acquisition opportunities have slipped by because I either could not afford them or I was not enough of a visionary to see their future. (Had I had the wisdom of a dealer, these would have been the smartest investments of my life)… but who knew that I would live to see the day when a sofa of mine would fetch $193,000 at auction - chairs selling for over $20,000 to $50,000. My furniture appears monthly in glossy shelter magazines adorning celebrity homes. Inadvertently I have achieved stardom… or something close to it.

Today, I regret having ever sold any of my vintage furniture, no matter how alluring the price; it was bagatelle compared to its historic value. I have finally closed the barn door after the horses fled and come to the momentous conclusion to collect rather than sell.

The “Archive” concept had been smoldering for years… I even partnered with a devoted client-fan to purchase furniture as it came up at auction. The idea was to create a Kagan Museum to be located in a funky yet –to-be-defined location… Alas, it all fell apart with the recession of 2008. Reluctantly we agreed to split our collected works; half for her new home - the other languishing on my shelves collecting dust.

All this changed when my sage business associate, Joe Vitagliano came up with the brilliant idea that we should move our offices and warehouse. Our facilities were groaning at the seams. Thanks to the dedicated efforts of my support team and their attention to the details that maintain our high level of quality, our company had grown Globally.

None-the-less the prospect of another move, this time from Paterson New Jersey to Clifton, only a five minute drive away… rekindled the nightmarish memories of our last move from Queens to Paterson five years earlier…

Until I saw the space - WOW!

 
The Loft before renovation

 

A twelve thousand five hundred square foot loft with close to 100 window and twenty-five foot high ceilings… it was irresistible. This was a historic mill building famous, a century earlier, for the finest silks woven in the United States. When my children saw the raw apace they for once all agreed that I must make the move… they saw it as a great venue for parties complete with rock bands… Our vision was a bit different.

 

The historic Mill building that is now the home of the Vladimir Kagan Design Group

Once again I jumped into the breach and agreed to move. To everyone’s relief, it coincided with my prolonged trip to Europe. Plans were drawn up and work was done without my interference; everyone pitched-in and it was completed in time for Christmas. The huge loft was transformed into functioning offices, ample storage, a dedicated assembling and inspection space for furniture ready for delivery. Four thousand square feet of space were transformed into a stage setting for my collection of well over fifty vintage pieces of furniture.

 
 Renderings of the envisioned Archive space

The Archive space taking shape

A view toward the well organized storage and assembly area

Stacked chair components ready for assembly

The romatic Catwalk becomes the storage for our patterns (see them in my father's factory photo)

 

 The fulfillment of a vision: The Kagan Archives

 

A view towared the entrance with a pair of Mini-Kagan chair frames made for Angelina Jollie

A line-up of over a dozen collected chairs dating from the 40s to the present

Since my return from Europe I rejoice in finding “new” treasures still wrapped and tucked away on shelves; furniture that rekindles memories back to 1950 and earlier. “I may not remember your name but I sure remember the history of every piece of furniture – the client – the location – and when it was created!”

 

The Kagan Archives are not open to the public… We can only accommodate limited groups of professional visitors by appointment. There are no docents, no curators, and no gift shop. There is only my wonderful support team who keep the Vladimir Kagan Design Group Inc. functioning and buzzing along… If your timing is right, you might even get Vladimir Kagan as your personal guide.

 

 

To arrange a visit, kindly contact my office at 973 225-0925

 

 

 

Nantucket's Storm

 

Nantucket During the Storm

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, February 12, 2013

 

Yesterday I showed you the tranquil side of Nantucket in a snowstorm; this is the real McCoy! – When a Blizzard hits the East coast, Nantucket gets a real Nor’easter complete with massive flooding.

 

These photos were sent to me by our Yacht Club and I thought worthwhile sharing with you.

Looking up Main Street - Erica Wilson's  Store is hidden off to the right

Now, take a look in the opposite direction - Steamboat Wharf and all the shops flooded

                                                                                                    photo by Chad Piere

Notice the people slogging throught the icewater - a view toward Streightwarf and the fery docks

                                                                                                  photo by Nantucket Hotel staff

Children's Beach and a flooded cottage

                       photo by Mark Ranney

Easy Street, usually filled with tourist photographing the picturesque harbor

                                                                               photo by Mark Ranney

Flooded cars with the Yacht Club's tennis courts in the background

                                                                photo by Mark Ranney

Aptly named South Water Street

              photo by Mark Ranney

Though these pictures tell a distressing story, Nantucketers take their storms in stride... when the tide goes out, the waters will recede and life will go back to normal... almost.

I hope that you are snuggly at home while watching these chilly scenes!

Snow, snow everywhere - my take on the Blizzard

The Blizzard of 2013

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, February 10, 2013

 

Just when I thought that I had nothing to write about, God sent me the Blizzard of 2013.

 

As usual, life in my “ivory tower” on the upper East side is calm. New York had just under a foot of snow… manageable for both pedestrians and vehicular traffic. Parked cars were romantically covered with a heaping of the white stuff. We were spared Sandy’s devastation… Not so for the rest of the Northeast! 

Long Island got hit badly; in some places up to three feet. Except for the skiers and sledders, the locals are not used to this. They abandoned their cars mid-road and found shelter, those that stayed home, woke up to the snow covering their doorsteps and porches; clean-up crews were equally were quagmired. Long Island is a mess. Not surprising, thousands of people are without electricity and probably will be so for days to come. (At least this time around, they can put their perishables in the snow, providing the raccoons won’t get them first.)

               

Cars buried in the snow on our street

If you live in our neck of the world, there was no way to escape the 24/7 coverage on TV, radio and newspapers… (There was no other noteworthy news.) For those of you living further off, I am certain that you got the news blips, whether you wanted to or not. As a result you do not need an official report… here is my personal take.

 

NEW YORK

My apartment windows are shielded by arbritrary prison bars (mandated by a city code that says if there are children under 6 living in the apartment you’ve got to have them.) My Granddaughters have all grown older but the bars proof to be very useful with our dog, who likes to chase seagulls in flight!

 

Views from my windows, the morning after the storm. (On the windowsill is a model of the Titanic  that my son Illya and I built when he was 6)

The courtyard in our building, covered in snow - the bronze heron fountain in the center island garden, normally a blaze of flowers and greenery.

A walk down Fifth Avenue 

Central Park - a playground for all snow lovers and dogs

NANTUCKET

My son Illya lives there year around. He reported winds of 95 miles and hour… (Over 74 miles constitutes a hurricane.). Being an island 30 miles at sea, Nantucket doesn't get much snow, but enough fell this time to take his daughter’s out cross-country skiing. (Unfortunately, his iPhone camera was overloaded and he could not take photos for this Blog.)

To show you Nantucket in the snow, these are my photos taken through the kitchen window and in the garden a few years ago. 

Nantucket is a magical place in the snow

 

MAINE

My granddaughter Olivia goes to Bowdoin College in Brunswick. There they are used to snow and welcome it. They received over two feet and in the ski areas were blessed with three. When I called her, all she could say was “Oh My God, it’s amazing”.

 

Olivia on the Bowdoin Campus in Maine

 

AFTERMATH

We had a weekend of glorious sunshine… The snow is turning to slush… I’ve managed to waddle through it with my walker… an excellent exercise for survival.

A love note written in the snow 

 

 

Europe in Black & White

Reminiscences of Europe

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, February 5, 2013

 

I am finally back in New York for over two week - buried in work…the glow of Europe is rapidly evaporating… Before the last images fade away, I’ve gathered a few reminiscences.

 

IMPRESSIONS IN BLACK & WHITE

 

Photos of Europe in Black & White – snaps I took on my iPhone along the road from Gstaad to Geneva and the next day, on a high-speed train from Geneva to Paris…. Plus a rare glimpse of Paris in the snow.

 

Europe was covered with a blanket of snow. The countryside was devoid of color...it is a huge panorama in black and white. Where there were vineyards dotting the hillside, where cows and sheep were grazing, there is nothing but a huge expanse of white.

 

On the road through Roughmont

Driving down from Gstaad, the road is a black tarmac ribbon cutting through pristine white snow. Steep mountains, their peaks covered in mist, border the road. Tall black pines interrupt the whiteness, their branches thickly layered with snow. Occasionally rivulets of streams cut black gullies down the mountain accentuating the scene.

 

 





The road from Gstaad - a vision in black and white

One day later, we were comfortably sitting on the TGV from Geneva to Paris, the view out of our window was much the same: black and white flashes as the train sped through the bucolic French countryside at 200 miles per hour.

 

Not a creature in sight - nothing but black and white for hundreds of miles


In the summer, this view is a kaleidoscope of color: sunflowers, wheat fields, green fields and fresh brown-tilled earth, hillsides dotted with white sheep and tan cows. However, the panorama unfolding in front of my eyes today was an unending whiteness… it was magical… a calming scene that I adore… rivaling the sunshine and sea in the summer.

 

PARIS IN THE SNOW

Paris in the snow is enchantment... It is such a rare occurrence that most Parisians must go to a museum to see Monet’s and Pissarro’s impression of their snow covered city.

 

 

 

Illya and I enjoyed an unexpected holiday, sloshing around town… visiting my favorite Musée Dorsey, sitting in sidewalk cafes sipping tea and coffee…Illya did a long jog through the snow and took some of these remarkable photos.

Illya Kagan enjoying a cappuccino in a sidewalk cafe after pushing me in a wheelchair through the slush

Mustaffa, our faithful driver with Illya and me

MAISON & OBJET

 

Paris in January means Maison & Object. A carnival of decorative home objects located in a huge sprawling exhibition space at Vilipend – Paris Nord. Vilipend is not a destination except for this colorful show. I participate yearly with my Italian manufacturer (in excellent company with their two other licensees: Fendi and Kenzo.) As always, they created a hip space to show The Vladimir Kagan New York Collection … My mission? To be the “trophy” for visitors from all corners of the world to cluster around and chat with me and have their picture taken with an “icon”.

  , 

"Me" as the trophy in my exhibit - photographed with clients from all over the world

 My son Illya has accompanied me on the last three of these junkets. His job is to keeps me on the straight and narrow. He gathers interested clients to my table, ably providing information. His second mission was to makes certain that I had both my briefcase and Man-bag at my feet to bring forth hidden treasures.

 

THIS IS THE SAGA OF THE MAN-BAG

To smarten my image, my sister surprised me with an elegant, soft leather shoulder bag emblazoned with the name Longchamp. She did not approve of my red Patagonia bag: inappropriate for a designer of my status!

It was stolen at opening day! A sneaky character managed to twist a lattice partitions and skillfully extracted the Longchamp right under our collective noses, complete with my passport, wallet, credit cards, driver’s license, medical records and all of my cash. I was penniless! It was Friday night; the US Embassy had already closed for the three day Martin Luther King holiday. Flights and credit cards needed to be immediately canceled. Traffic in the snow was horrendous. It took two hours to drive to town. I was late for a dinner party given in my honor by Christies, the auction house that has sold so many of my designs to Parisian collectors. No time to change, I arrived in a sweater and sneakers at Caviar Kaspia, one of Paris’ most salubrious eateries.

 
The elegant dinner given  in my honor by Christies. What you are not seeing this photo is the bountiful heaping of caviar served on a backed potatoe!

 and me in a sweater and sneakers

 

This is when a light flashed on in my head!

Everything happens with a purpose: I finally had material for this Blog!

 

Next morning we made our report to the local Gendarmes, borrowed enough cash to get by, adapted our lives to a credit-card-less existence and relished the prospect of another four days in Paris. Illya and I were going to “suffer” through this dilemma in style.

 

Illya filing the police report at the local Gendarmery

Two days later the dream was shattered! The police had found my Passport, wallet and credit cards! All that was missing was the cash and the Longchamp bag…. So much for my chic designer image.

 

“All is well that ends well?”…Not to so fast!

 

The day of our departure it had finally stopped snowing. It was damp and drizzling but all looked wonderful. However, en rout to the airport, we were informed that our flight to London had been cancelled due to weather in England.  Back in limbo…what to do? Head for the train with all of our luggage? (Too dismal to contemplate). A quick call to Virgin Atlantic confirmed that our overseas flight was on schedule…We chose to slog on in the hope of finding an alternate flight to London and managed to find a flight three hours later. Before boarding, we were informed of another hour’s delay! Each delay necessitated rescheduling our Virgin flight. Three altered flights later cost $1,000! We arrived in New York at midnight on the coldest day of the year – but we were home at last!

 

Today I am still wallowing through three months of accumulated mail, messages, magazines and work!

 

 

 

 

My Sister's Daughter - the Artist

THE OTHER JOSEFOWITZ ARTIST

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, January 12, 2013

Cathy Josefowitz's poster for her show as seen on Geneva street kiosks

There are two Josefowitz artists in the family: my sister Tanya and her daughter Cathy. Both have been untiring painters all of their lives. I can never envision my sister without a drawing pad in her handbag. Cathy is a painter of a different ilk. She would need to carry a roll of canvas twice her size. Though Cathy also sketches prolifically in a Lilliputian sized, beautifully bound, blank book; hers are not spiraled drawing pages to be simply ripped out.

 

Cathy Josefowitz has been a free spirit all her life, having left home at 16 to pursue an uncertain path in the arts, sometimes circuitously, but always productive. She would paint on any blank surface. Her career has taken her from street graffiti to super large canvases. Her art is predictably unpredictable. She exhibits frequently, although her canvases are often too large to hang on most walls, that does not deter her at all. She paints passionately and creatively.

 

 My first encounter with her extraordinary talent was in her Paris atelier, a third floor walk-up in the 14th Arrondissement. There were vivid flashes of color, textures and materials. Her pallet was created out of salvaged textiles, her favorite media: Collages.

 

Cathy Josefowitz in her Paris Studio

The Art Gallery in Saint Germain where Cathy had an exhibit of her colages

 

The colages of Cathy Josefowitz at her exhibit in Saint Germaine Paris

 In 2002 Cathy and I had a collaborative show of our works in Brera, the art district of Milan. It was an exciting blend of her graphic paintings and my sculptural designs.

 

Cathy Josefowitz and Vladimir Kagan - a joint enxhibit in Milan at the Club House Italia Gallery in 2002

 Cathy does not stand still. Her moods change; her style changes; her message changes. Like her mother, she is a Jekyll & Hyde.  Cathy paints by day. Each morning, after an intensive Yoga session, she arrives at her bright loft in Carouge, an artist’s enclave in Geneva.  She steps out of her fashionable dress into colorful overalls and immerses herself into the canisters of paint and rolls of canvas that cover the studio floor. Since her canvases are too big for an easel, she paints on the floor, all day long into the early evening.     

Cathy painting in her Geneva Studio - The sketch books

 Cathy is a petite, beautiful woman 5 foot tall in her bare feet. She is a single mother raising a bear of a son 6 feet tall.  When she is not painting, she choreographs modern dance (to music that is beyond my grasp!). In years past, she had danced professionally. She formed a dance theater company with Mara de Wit called “Research & Navigation”. They lived, worked, and performed in Wales, with the support of the Arts Council of Wales, Cardiff.  Cathy’s career had taken her from Switzerland, to Paris, to Wales, to Boston, Italy, back to Paris and finally home to Geneva. Her vocation is all embracing, comprising dancing, midwifery, political activism, lover, and always the eternal painter. 

 

Opening night at Cathy's show WORKS IN PROGRESS in her Atelier in Carouge, Geneva

 I arrived in Geneva a week too late for the opening of Cathy’s latest exhibit WORKS IN PROGRESS, held in her colossal loft. The multi-media show included a film presentation of her dancing, installation art, sketchbooks, collages, and the three-dimensional canvases that have become her current métier. While her Mother’s works are often expressed in small-framed drawings, Cathy’s work is gargantuan. Only the walls of a major private collector are large enough to hang her art, the only other suitable spaces being museum walls and the actual floor. Her current focus is landscape, not those of Cézanne or Van Gogh. Her canvasses are moods of color covering large surfaces, undulating on the floor, climbing up the walls or hanging from the ceiling. Some are teasingly spiked with tiny Netsuke-like sketches in a forgotten corner of the canvas.  Making a change from the gargantuan to the diminutive, the windowsills of her studio are lined with her precious sketchbooks, and miniature fanciful flights of paper and sheet-metal cutouts 

Works In Progress an exhibit in Cathy Josefowitz's studio in Carouge, Geneva 2012

Cathy's miniature cut-out figures part of her exhibit

Cathy is exceptionally well organized; her keen eye ensures that all is tidy and carefully arranged. Her studio walls are lined in library fashion with floor to ceiling bins to store her prolific output of canvasses as archives for future exhibitions.

The studio with Cathy's tidy wall of racks to store her collection 

Cathy’s home reflects the serenity of her devotion to yoga.  It is tranquil, spacious, with colors from her art ingeniously woven into her lifestyle.  She is an avid fan of my designs and has meticulously amassed an amazing collection of my furniture. Cathy is custodian of my very first design, (a set of dining chairs dating back to 1946) handed down from my parents, to my sister, and ultimately to Cathy, all serendipitously integrated into her art collection. Her home has been featured in Paris Elle Decor and is a showcase for the harmony between art and design.  

 

Cathy Josefowitz's esthetic apartment with her collection of my furnture - the dining chairs were my first design from 1946 - the dining table was designed by my father Illi Kagan at the same time

 

To see more of Cathy Josefowitz’s work, please go to her website: <http://WWW.cathyjosefowitz.com>   

 

photo cresits: Cathy's apartment: Luxproductions.com -  Jean-Francois Jaussaud