Thursday, April 22, 2010


Des Becker Roses

This Sunday, six artists will gather in an old parlor of a beautiful turn-of-the-century home to sell some of their most beautiful works.

Hand Dyed Silk Scarves, by Colin Houlder Designs

One-of-a-kind jewelry of precious, semi-precious gems, gold, silver, austrian crystals, antique pen nibs & pearls by Alina Neganova

Amulet bags with crystals, stones and beads molded from hand dyed batik fabric by Barbara Zernov

Lilly Recht (age 11) sells fashionable and recyclable duct tape bags.

Porcelain dinner ware, serving pieces, oversized coffee and tea mugs, iridescent glass bird baths and other ceramic marvels by Claire Des Becker

Haramaki (belly warmers), yoga cushions, tick repellent and hand-made lip balms for all seasons by Sharon Kimmelman

Des Becker Birdbath

I asked Claire Des Becker about the origins of her parlor sales:

I held successful yearly artists' sales, twice a year for 10 years in my large ceramics studio. The parlor sales began after my husband and I move into our 120 year old house in Manhattan.

Artists like and need to educate people about their work. In a world of mass produced goods people need to understand why the handmade item is special.

Now, with money less available for extra things people are delighted to be able to buy often museum quality items, at the artists' best prices. These same items may be found in department stores and galleries, but there is a huge markup in the stores and galleries because the overheard is high.

Artists and and clients enjoy each others' company and have a good time in the non-pressured comfort of my parlor twice a year. I am truly pleased to host this event.

(Mothers’ and Special Others’ Sale)

Date: Sunday, April 25

Time: 1:30 pm.-5:30pm.

Location: 126 Manhattan Avenue, between 105th and 106th Street
(just off Central Park West and behind the chateau)

Refreshments served.

Des Becker Roses #3

Part Five: A View From A Kitchen

A View From A Kitchen is a series on what meets our eye when we look up from our dirty dishes or half-full coffee cup.


I don't often sit at my kitchen window in the morning with my coffee--if I'm imbibing caffeine I'm either writing, working at the latest editing gig, or catching up with My Private Coney and other blogs. What I will do is when stuck on a scene, or tired from squinting at commas, I walk restlessly through my apartment, and I will stand at my kitchen window and look out, catching the drift of the clouds, the look of the newest green shoots on the garden below, the cheery red-headed whatever-they-are birds at the feeder on the fire escape. It's my way to leave my body and get some peace. To fugeddabout myself.

Seeing sky is crucial for me--just as I feel closed in by something, panicked or unhappy, a scan of clouds or blue blueness or the distant Empire State Building keeps me, well, nicer. Note the new fucking condo to the left, which cut into my sky. MY sky! Anyway, at least it's a light color. If I squint my eyes, it looks like a desert bluff.

The growing garden below. I pretend to be God and make flowers and plants grow where I want them. There's a stray cat down there sleeping because he has sex nightly. Go forth and multiply, saith the Lord.

The birds also cheer me up--some kind of sparrow that's scrappy but melodious, with a bright red head that becomes almost fluorescent red in the summer. Writing, a compulsion, can be dismal or incandescent, but it's solitary. These birds remind me there are beings who exist, happily, to eat, drink, and fornicate. Amen.