Charles Hollis Jones
In the gallery’s office/anteroom sits a number of his brass works on the desk. Masculine and pragmatic, the totemic objects include a cigarette holder (with a couple pristine cigarettes in waiting), an ashtray, and tissue holder, the latter designed literally for Frank Sinatra. They have a bygone air of post-WWII functionalism, of American excess designed sparely and strongly.
The gallery is a showroom for the acrylic and steel furniture pieces: chairs, tables, and a tall lamp. The only decorative flourishes are the dice on the slender foyer table, and the occasional blue or green-tinged edge. The acrylic appears more see-through than even glass, and is attached by bolt and plating to right angles of steel.
It’s all a geometry of 90°, and flat, crystal plains, save for the curvatures of the carafe and cigarette holder, and the acrylic orb resting in the base of a table. The works, each crafted by Hollis himself in small editions, are immaculate, with a shiny clarity. They seem fragile like fine glass sculptures.
So when I sat down, I was hesitant, chary of these plastic works. There was relief though in the feeling of sitting on the structurally sound art, aesthetic objects made to do.