Zephyr Repurposed Hair Dryer Lamp

We recently repurposed a salon hair dryer into a floor lamp.  While it's a very sculptural piece on its own and still functions beautifully, I can't image sticking my head in the bullet-shaped hood to dry my hair.  So we polished up the chrome and added a light using all the original wiring, which after nearly a century, was still in good shape.  Yes, I said a century!  Well nearly, it dates from the 1930s.

Zephyr Hair Dryer Lamp

The history of hair dryers is quite amazing.  Many looked like frightful science experiments:

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But more than the evolution of the hair dryer, I was intrigued by the streamlined aesthetics and ancient name of our "Zephyr" model, which was made by Isana Products Inc., Chicago, IL, manufacturers of beauty shop supplies.

detail of Zephyr standing hair dryer

The aerodynamic shape of the hood epitomizes America's love of speed and power in the 1930s.  As the Great Depression carried on, advertisers focused on the hope of the future and progress.  Products were designed for appearance and striped of an unnecessary decoration.  The curved forms of the hair dryer would instantly convey to the consumer the machine's efficiency and speed, which was reinforced by the product's name.  Zephyr (Zephyrus) was the Greek god of the west winds.  He lent his name to many streamlined products during this decade, including cars, trains, planes, and clocks (see "The American Century: Art & Culture 1900-1950", Whitney Museum of American Art, 1999, p. 301).

California Zephyr Train

Zephyr Clock designed by Kem Weber for Lawson Time, Inc.

1938 Lincoln Zephyr Coupe

Zephyr Airkooler

And as a final tidbit, in 1947, Life Magazine featured a "swords to plowshares" story about a businessman who used WWII bomb casing machinery to manufacture hair dryers after the war.  Now that's repurposing at its best.

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Painting a Picture of Robert English

I bought a painting at auction last year.  I didn't know a thing about the artist, but I was drawn to the bright saturated colors and abstracted cityscape composition and I knew from looking at the back of the canvas that it had some age to it.  There were two other paintings by the same artist in the auction that day, but my shallow pockets left me with only one prize.

Hodge's Lodge by Robert English, 1960s

Luckily, I was able to take photographs of the other canvases, both front and back, to help with my research.  My new abstract was signed "R. English" and inscribed on the back "Hodge's Lodge."  Another painting was inscribed with the artist's address, 125 Buena Vista Terrace, San Francisco.  That's all I had to go on.  Here's what my sleuthing uncovered:

A copy of Robert “Bob” English's death certificate.  He was born on February 14, 1927 in Wayne, Michigan, 25 miles west of Detroit.  From census reports, I gleaned that his father was a retail store salesman and Robert was the youngest of 3 children.  At 18, he enlisted in the Army and served from 1945-46, at the end of World War II.

In 1957, he moved to San Francisco, and for the next 12 years maintained a residence at 125 Buena Vista Terrace, a short walk to Haight-Ashbury, which was in its bohemian heyday in the 1960s.  English was a well-respected teacher at Portola Elementary School in San Bruno, from 1965, until his untimely death at the age of 42 on March 10, 1969.  The school held an art show in his honor for several years after his death.

Portola Elementary School photo

Although it is not known where English studied art, living in San Francisco in the 1960s, he was certainly exposed to the work of the San Francisco Abstract Expressionists, who had been active in the city since the 1940s, as well as the Bay Area Figurative artists who broke away from non-objective painting in the 1950s.  It was a radical time in San Francisco's history with counterculture Beatnik poets, writers and free thinkers mixing with the peace-loving Hippie generation.  The area's breathtaking landscape and the revival of jazz were also essential influences on San Francisco artists.

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"Hodge’s Lodge" (painting seen at top of post) references the cool sounds of Johnny Hodges and his jazz orchestra, Hodge Podge.  Hodges was a premier alto saxophonist who also played first chair in Duke Ellington's band for many years. 

Harlem Air Shaft

It Don't Mean a Thing If It Ain't Got That Swing

The two Robert English paintings that got away are titled "Harlem Air Shaft" and "It Don’t Mean a Thing If It Ain’t Got That Swing", after compositions of the same name by Duke Ellington and his jazz orchestra.  In arrangement, the canvases reflect the chaotic, expressive street rhythm of Harlem that resonates through Ellington's music. 

Hendey's

A little background story.  I am an art and antiques dealer, historian, designer, and DIY crafter with New England blood and the heart of a Californian.  A selection of the vintage goods and handmade items I offer can be found in my Etsy store called Hendeys.  A rich family history sparked my interest in storied objects and the creative spirit.

Fowler & Sellars, Co. was the name of my great-grandfather's hardware and house furnishing store, which opened in White Plains, New York in 1895.  William Fowler was an amiable salesman with a great talent for display, as seen in these photos from the early 1900s:

But my love of antiques and handcrafts really started with my grandmothers.  Grandma H. lived in a big English Tudor that had lots of rooms filled with beautiful old things.  The back bedroom over the stairs was where you'd find the best treasures.  My dad’s college gear stored in old leather suitcases, sporting goods left over from my grandfather’s shop, fancy dresses from several generations back with their pretty matching shoes and sweet beaded handbags, my great-grandmothers mink stoles, the kind with the heads still on that terrified my siblings and I when we were young...and still give me the heebie jeebies.  Each piece we found in the attic told us a story of the past.  We developed an appreciation for old things.  The smell of a leather mitt, the patina of an old writing table, the feel of a well-worn fabric that has been softened with daily use.  These vintage things that surrounded me growing up, sparked so many questions.  What was it?  Who owned it?  Where was it made?  I loved hearing their stories from different family members.

Grandma S. was a quilter.  She made all of our clothes when we were young, which for me was quite embarrassing.  She didn’t live close by and couldn’t see how fast I was growing, so I usually ended up with hems that were too short and styles that were too young.  But I look at the pieces she made now and marvel at the tiny stitches that are so straight and spaced so evenly.  Her hands touched so many things in my home.  And she passed down all that she knew, all of her gifts.  So, beside the quilt that she made, sits a crewelwork pillow that my mother embroidered as she was waiting for my sister to be born.  I adorned it with a crocheted flower pin that my sister made one evening when the family was together.  These handmade pieces are the things that I will never part with, the things I will grab if disaster strikes, the things I will always cherish.

And since my grandmothers also taught me to share, I will work hard to pass their gifts to you by creating stories with love.  From my family to yours.