As my salad-making has gotten lazier, my love for the bowl I eat pre-washed arugula out of has only grown. I bought my spalted-maple bowl—graceful as a Brancusi, smooth as satin—at the 57th Street Art Fair a couple of years ago and paid, I think, $160, more than I ever thought I’d spend on a salad bowl, but I haven’t regretted it for one second. The bowl was made by David Lory, a woodworker in Platteville, Wisconsin, who seeks out woods with unusual grains and turns them into objects of pure, functional loveliness. He’ll be at the art fair again this weekend—check him out. When I was hesitating over my purchase, a woman passing by Lory’s booth called out to me, “I bought one last year and it makes me happy every day!” So now I’m telling you.
—Joanne Trestrail
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As my salad-making has gotten lazier, my love for the bowl I eat pre-washed arugula out of has only grown. I bought my spalted-maple bowl—graceful as a Brancusi, smooth as satin—at the 57th Street Art Fair a couple of years ago and paid, I think, $160, more than I ever thought I’d spend on a salad bowl, but I haven’t regretted it for one second. The bowl was made by David Lory, a woodworker in Platteville, Wisconsin, who seeks out woods with unusual grains and turns them into objects of pure, functional loveliness. He’ll be at the art fair again this weekend—check him out. When I was hesitating over my purchase, a woman passing by Lory’s booth called out to me, “I bought one last year and it makes me happy every day!” So now I’m telling you.
—Joanne Trestrail
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As my salad-making has gotten lazier, my love for the bowl I eat pre-washed arugula out of has only grown. I bought my spalted-maple bowl—graceful as a Brancusi, smooth as satin—at the 57th Street Art Fair a couple of years ago and paid, I think, $160, more than I ever thought I’d spend on a salad bowl, but I haven’t regretted it for one second. The bowl was made by David Lory, a woodworker in Platteville, Wisconsin, who seeks out woods with unusual grains and turns them into objects of pure, functional loveliness. He’ll be at the art fair again this weekend—check him out. When I was hesitating over my purchase, a woman passing by Lory’s booth called out to me, “I bought one last year and it makes me happy every day!” So now I’m telling you.
As my salad-making has gotten lazier, my love for the bowl I eat pre-washed arugula out of has only grown. I bought my spalted-maple bowl—graceful as a Brancusi, smooth as satin—at the 57th Street Art Fair a couple of years ago and paid, I think, $160, more than I ever thought I’d spend on a salad bowl, but I haven’t regretted it for one second. The bowl was made by David Lory, a woodworker in Platteville, Wisconsin, who seeks out woods with unusual grains and turns them into objects of pure, functional loveliness. He’ll be at the art fair again this weekend—check him out. When I was hesitating over my purchase, a woman passing by Lory’s booth called out to me, “I bought one last year and it makes me happy every day!” So now I’m telling you.
—Joanne Trestrail
June 3, 2010, 9:44 am
As my salad-making has gotten lazier, my love for the bowl I eat pre-washed arugula out of has only grown. I bought my spalted-maple bowl—graceful as a Brancusi, smooth as satin—at the 57th Street Art Fair a couple of years ago and paid, I think, $160, more than I ever thought I’d spend on a salad bowl, but I haven’t regretted it for one second. The bowl was made by David Lory, a woodworker in Platteville, Wisconsin, who seeks out woods with unusual grains and turns them into objects of pure, functional loveliness. He’ll be at the art fair again this weekend—check him out. When I was hesitating over my purchase, a woman passing by Lory’s booth called out to me, “I bought one last year and it makes me happy every day!” So now I’m telling you.
