Our parents were in love, at least for one night, or perhaps for many years, and maybe even still. And it might possibly be true that our parents have been in love for eternity, cycling through infinite existences, catching one another’s eye at a dance, in a jungle, below the oceans, or out there amid the myriad of swirling cosmic motes. In any case, whatever happened happened and we were born. After some changes in our clothing sizes and a long series of school lunches we found ourselves in Detroit. A city with real history, industrial history, American history, racial history, music history, art history, but what was of particular interest to us was its design history. So many great designers have passed through this city, they designed automobiles, otttomans, arches, playing cards, pencils and perhaps even piñatas (we suspect so but the evidence was destroyed.) Then the designers were gone, well most of them anyway, off to glamorous places like Santa Fe, Los Angeles, and Grand Rapids. Some, including the automobile designers, remained, but the conversation about design in Detroit had certainly quieted down. It became little more than a fluttering page in a magazine, an afternoon “like” on a Pinterest page, a set of plates unpacked from a Christmas box. So we thought we would blow on the spark of what remained and then put a log on that fire and then make an inferno that we could dance about like ecstatic Shakers on a hot midsummer’s eve, so that people would say “Yes! Design! That City! Oh brother! You Gotta See This.”
4240 Cass Ave. Suite 109
Detroit, MI 48201
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