Spotlight On . . . Wall to Wall Framing

When Scout owner, Larry Vodak, praises somebody (or says anything at all regarding design, really), I listen; so when I needed a couple of things framed, I immediately thought of "Wall to Wall Framing," in Chicago's Edgwater neighborhood.


A work in progress.

Owner Leif Forre isn't just a framer; engaging with him is a collaborative and creative process. Most recently, he helped me pick a matte that suits the subject very well but also relates to the wall color in the room in which it now lives (and which Leif's never even seen).

After completing a framing project, he'll often leave the finished product in his little lobby, so just being in his store is always an interesting peak into other lives and different design styles.

Wall to Wall Framing is located at 5554 Winthrop Avenue in Chicago. 773-334-5333


This is the original that I bought at Scout.


And this is the companion piece that I had made and framed at Wall to Wall Framing. Leif did a wonderful job creating an exact match. The two now add beautiful horror to a small back hallway.




I inherited this from my grandfather, who found it on Okinawa during World War II. While I'm not normally crazy about shadow boxes, I like Leif's work here and the piece finally makes sense.

Spotlight On . . . Michael W. Dreeben Furniture and Fine Objects

Spline Chair



Cocobolo Dining Table. I love this name, and I love the table.

Michael Dreeben makes custom furniture and objects. I discovered his furniture in Chicago Home magazine a few months ago and have been stalking him a little ever since, lurking around on his website and fantasizing about his work. I especially love the spline chair; its smooth and stylish but no nonsense. His wood pieces especially have a very tactile quality about them - the images make me want to feel their smooth surface, to use them. They're not simply designs.

Let's face it, buying custom will cost you more than buying a piece from a mass retailer, but the benefits are numerous, for yourself and for literally, the world. You're paying for a piece of art, an heirloom piece that will be handed down through the generations; you're keeping jobs in the U.S. and supporting a local company with a name and a face and a record that you can trust, and because the pieces usually aren't shipped overseas, the environmental impact is lessened considerably.

There's something about sitting in a chair and knowing who designed it, who put it together, that gives it meaning beyond its function or aesthetic. Question, what's cooler than finding tomorrow's designers today? In fact, there are so very many cooler things. Stop thinking so conventionally. It's ok, I do it too (with me, it's all do as I say, not what I do.)

But in my opinion, what is cooler is supporting a real person, a local company and having a unique piece in your house, the chair that will never be an Eames (and thank God, right? I like him too and just bought a DCM, but enough's enough).

What do you think of Michael's designs? Have you purchased custom furniture? Who are your favorite designers?


Lord Vader would be most impressed. The nearly 10 lb Billet chair brings Star Wars to mind.


I know creamy is the wrong word, but buttery is no better, so I'm using it anyway.

Spotlight On . . . Blue Hydrangea

I lived on the corner of Winthrop and Berwyn in Chicago for four years. I loved (love) that loud little corner, marked by the roaring El and impossibly, the even louder Foster bus, which clogs up traffic on Berwyn as it uses the choked up little street to turn around and head back west on Foster.

The corner's marked by yuppies and blue collar folks and those less fortunate than that; it's marked by neighbors and friends and the children and the elderly and by people who care and by people who don't, who are just up to no good. It's like life in that way, real life, not the sanitized version that appears on TV and in so many over-gentrified neighborhoods.



And physically, the corner reflects the diversity, one point has Ollie's Tavern* and the apartments above it, the others host a converted condo building, a coin laundry and a little white house that's hanging on for dear life but that's constantly being surveyed, the last kid to be picked, not realizing until much later that not being chosen has its rewards.

The shops lining Berwyn were unremarkable when I moved in, but that changed pretty dramatically with the appearance of a great little coffee shop, Pause, and a spectacular flower shop (if such a generic term can accurately describe it) offering high-end floral design and operating next to an old fashioned barber and a little resale shop and an empty storefront, all co-mingling and looking a lot like the neighborhood.

Blue Hydrangea is always evolving; the visionary behind it, Dan, has created a space that's ethereal, white, mesmerizing, futuristic. I said before, in design, avoiding the trends means looking to the future or looking to the past. Dan's one of the guys that looks to the future (I called them savants in an earlier column, but Dan's very well-rounded).





Every time I think the space is nearly perfect, he makes a change. Is the space evolving or is it Intelligent Design? That's the question I want answered. But I'll bet Dan can't even answer that one. It's too much to contemplate, to big a question to tackle. We're unable to comprehend the creative forces that we channel or that we experience when we create or even just exist in a space like Blue Hydrangea.

Check him out; I recommend you place an order, pick a price and trust him and his artistic vision. I've never been disappointed, whether the result be a single unusual flower or fifteen individual square vases for a Christmas table setting.



*What happened to all the Chicago taverns? They were on every corner. They're where stuff gets talked about, where revolution ferments - we NEED the taverns.