Featured Artist

What initially brought you to this area?

PP: The connection is a good friend whose family has a house in Norfolk, CT; Lucy and I went to college together. Her father, Pete Anderson, an architect, connected Rob and me. I went on a sailing trip with Pete and his family and was somewhat seasick, so he and I spent time on the deck discussing architecture. My father was an architect, and thus I felt a kinship to this family. Pete suggested I call Rob (who was attending Virginia Tech) to discuss graduate architecture schools. It took a while, but finally, I made the call; Rob convinced me to join him at Tech. Here we are today!

RB: It’s funny how Pete shaped our lives from that moment on. We landed in Boston for our apprenticeships and came to Norfolk, CT, for a weekend. I spotted a small barn for sale; boys love barns! Norfolk was a draw because it has Yale’s Summer Arts Program with art and music, as well as a writer and publisher community. It became our early anchor here. 

PP: We moved to Norfolk with our young family, and when the girls were a little older, we resettled again to a farm in Salisbury, CT. We designed and built the house together, situating it near the long barn, Rob’s workshop, and aimed at a fantastic view. Throughout this area, you never know who you may meet in these woods: truly grounded, focused, and accomplished people. That was the most exciting part of it all.

Pilar, what were your early artistic experiences?

PP: Luckily, I grew up in a creative family with an architect/artist dad. My father had a significant influence on me. We would visit museums regularly, and occasionally, he had me help with models or drawings. We would sit making big, balsa wood models of his projects; I was always playing at this drafting table. One brother is also an architect and the other went to film school, often waking us up to perform. None of us were ever held back.

Until I was six, we lived in Puerto Rico. Then we moved to Great Neck, NY, where my father grew up. The night before I left for Trinity College, my father said, “I know I shouldn’t be saying this to you, but you would make a great architect.” Trinity had an open curriculum, and I took advantage of it, studying all that engaged me while focusing on my studio art major. Later, with Rob’s insight, I headed to Virginia Tech for my master of architecture degree. The program is filled with engaging faculty who opened the doors to all types of art/architecture practices. People were creating, thinking, and finding ways to pursue architecture in its broadest sense. The faculty cared that we found our path. For my thesis presentation, my advisor encouraged me to find a place where my book would not be missed. I pasted the pages inside the elevator.

Women artists had to go guerrilla to be noticed!

PP: That was my advisor’s point. He wanted me to make a statement everybody would see; it was a great lesson. Back in New York, I landed a security guard job at the Met, answering an ad calling all artists. A line of a thousand people walked through and had interviews at various stations. The Met was expanding its hours for jazz nights, Fridays, and other events, and they sought real artists to discuss the collection. It was a fantastic experience with people from Juilliard and art graduates from Yale. We explored every bit of the Met. Walking down the halls, the Juilliard folk would start singing and dancing, an incredible energy of raw blood.

One night, in a club, I chatted with the owner, who noticed me looking at the wall drawings. I stated, “I’m going to be an architect one day.” He replied, “Well, how about I give you a job?” And I said, “Oh, I will take your job!” I went home, and the phone rang with a husky voice, “Hey, I got your name from Steve. I’m the architect; he’s not. I’m not paying you; he’s paying you, and you need to be here by 7:00am on Monday.” So, Bob Godwin hired me, and I worked on designing clubs and theaters, including the renovation of Studio 54, where we had to retain the original vomitorium, a part of the older theater.

I have maintained an art practice, a continuous line, through all our building projects. Our whole practice, the foundation of it, is the art, leading to the other creating. Following my father’s path through architecture school, he worked on furniture design and was an artist. He felt that architecture was the renaissance profession. Likewise, I think the seeds of art, design, structures, and engineering are in this big pot of architecture. This kettle holds these other ingredients, but the art is first and foremost.

RB: Pilar has devised a mantra for herself. She always says it starts with art, and that drives everything else. 

PP: It’s the subject I feel most akin to. I am not an interior decorator in that sense; I see design as art. Art feeds the design, as opposed to design feeding the art. I’m also passionate about creating spaces that feel brand new. I’m not a shopper; I’m a creator. This spirit initiates designing these hotels, broken down in the normative architecture and interiors path: concept, schematic design, design development, and construction documents.

You start with a concept. You have a building, a brand, the owners, the partners, and the players. Outlining a unique standpoint of what this project will be is integral to the whole idea of hotel design. It is touching that special moment when people walk in; they genuinely feel they’ve never been there before, experiencing an intangible familiarity with the space. The other key about hotels and restaurants is that they become a platform for all the creative parts. We have been able to design the building and the finishes and work with manufacturers to design the rugs, textiles, and furniture throughout the entire venue. Ultimately, we will be designing every piece of furniture, the millwork, and finally, the art, which also becomes integral. 

It is a tangible creative practice from the front door to the roof, on a larger scale than most art that comes from a studio. You are doing it in a multi-floor, multi-platform, multi-room environment, both flat and 3D. 

PP: We envision a feeling, and that concept draws us to the hotel world. I love creating feelings for people. A good feeling stays with you like a good meal: the look, feel, and touch of that first door you walk through. We take that first moment and glue it to the next room, and when they speak to each other, you’ve created the song.

Have you ever been nervous about working with clients?

PP: I am less intimidated by clients and am all in for that first moment of intimidation; the challenge is to be different. Each of these projects has its personality. At some point in the project, I always show them a beautiful object, which is the end goal. 

RB: You are prolific, with tons of ideas rolling out and populating the project. Then, you step back, corral them, and figure out what works.

You went to architecture school together. How did your artistic journey continue?

RB: We each had to apprentice for five years, during which time we were based in Boston practices. Architecture and interior design require many humans, which I sometimes struggle with. I love to make and build objects. The hands-on work suits me, and I gravitate towards objects I make on my own or with the help of another person. I consider all these design projects sculptures. We want to leave something behind. I hadn’t initially realized how much impact a larger scale project, notably the Quirk Hotel, would make in the community.It helped transform a neighborhood, which feels impactful. Likewise, we worked on the Scoville Library. Going in there and seeing people using and enjoying it is such a reward.

PP: There is a big difference between us. Rob is so grounded. He has a steady hand, whereas I am forever trying to reinvent. Where it is not safe, I push without fear. I want to create something that feels brand new. 

RB: Yes, she is just voracious and rangy.

What motivates your art practice?

PP: During COVID-19, I wrote a poem a day for at least two years. It was a lovely therapeutic and artistic practice. So much was embedded in the poems. They were emotional, redacted – hiding and revealing in an exciting back-and-forth. What motivates me is that rangy thing. I don’t know what’s coming up next. I am comfortable in the unknown, but something connects it all; it is a process and not an ending. Anthony Gormley said, “Your last piece of art is the mother of your next piece of art.” That resonated. 

RB: Gormley also said, “It’s not art if you’re not putting it out there in the world,” which struck a chord. My practice has focused on permanence versus impermanence. 

What artists have been fundamental to each of you?

PP: I am not one to look at artists and say, I’m going to take a piece of this, or I’m going to look at that. 

RB: You almost refuse to look. 

PP: My thesis professor remarked, “I think you’re making an argument for ignorance.” I didn’t want to be influenced, and now, looking at the world, I see too much influence. There are artists that I respect, Kiki Smith and Eva Hesse, particularly.

RB: No, it’s exactly true. You appreciate when you see something fantastic, but there’s a little bit of a shield where you don’t want things to touch you. This gives a rawness to some of the concepts you come up with. I trust your purity, as we all get bombarded by image after image.

I used to draw the line from Michelangelo to Rodin to Brancusi to Noguchi. They all shared in the development of a common thread. Brancusi worked for Rodin briefly, famously remarking, “Nothing grows in the shadow of a great tree,” and then Noguchi worked for Brancusi, so I love following that line. An artist named Hannsjorg Voth is fantastic. His sculptural work has a real architectural presence and narrative. 

My work focuses on time, impermanence, and permanence, expressed in thickness, heft, weight, stability, and simplicity. I tend to gravitate towards artists who make their own work and allow for the possibility of standing on their own and existing in time. I also love an Agnes Martin watercolor.

Do you have a dream project you still need to make?

PP: I have many dream projects, maybe a gallery or a museum. We designed a gallery, but we have never created a museum. Hotel-wise, anything in Europe or Puerto Rico would be extraordinary. We have always talked about a little chapel. 

RB: I’m going to do a chapel on a small scale, a contemplative space, because that feels like a bit of sculpture.

PP: The gallery Ralph Pucci has represented us for a long time. I would also love to take some objects made for these hotels to the next level. 

How does sustainability inform your practice?

PP: I think about using all the pieces and parts around me rather than purchasing. I try to be thoughtful with materials. I could reuse and repurpose the thing in my hot little hands or Rob’s workshop. 

RB: I have resisted making anything using a veneer. All our work is made out of solid wood, like this table, and ages with time. As a student in Florence, I visited the Renaissance palazzi. One was constructed from the stones of Rome. I like that recycled longevity. This table may become something else one day, a kitchen counter or a door, but it’s not going away. It feels more responsible to have a part to play architecturally in sustainable initiatives. On the hotel side, architects of record determine the sustainability strategies, which we then follow so everything gets built into each project. 

PP: Whereas I look and feel. Sometimes, clients ask us to look at the configurations so that they work better. Our clients are listening more and more, so we’ll say, let’s not go abroad for anything. We can design what you want and make it here. Let’s do it the right way, and that’s a big thing we’re pushing, which also keeps employment here. 

RB: The other day, we walked through the furniture factory where everything for the New York hotel is under construction. Our partner said, “Look around, Pilar. These people have jobs because of you.” It felt powerful, and you realized you played a giant role, a ripple effect through many lives. We also have a prototype workshop where we fabricate and test. Working at Hotchkiss, we made an art department desk with a flip top. They were going to farm it out to a shop to make out of veneered wood, but one of the guys in the meeting said, “We had an elm tree that fell, and we sliced it into planks.” Everything for that project was constructed from this fallen elm, which at 125 years old, was the exact age of the school.

PP: When we designed the Harney Tea Room in New York, we were building our house here, and there was siding left over, which became their tea tables. You look for opportunities around you.

Have you ever taught design, and what approaches can you share?

RB: We co-taught a design studio at Boston Architectural College, and I am currently teaching a graduate thesis studio course at the University of Hartford. We both like to be engaged in the world of ideas. Pilar sits in my lectures and will often say something different, and the students will come up to me afterward and say, “You know, she’s right!”

You are seamless and diverse artists who work well collaboratively as a team.

RB: Pilar is an excellent source of checks and balances. You can’t have a roomful of heavy solid wood furniture. That’s like having too much chocolate. She brings lightness and color to our work.

PP: I sit on a few crits with Rob. My approach is, “Let’s see where you’re going with this, but remember to keep the poetry in the work.” Another point is, “When you design a chair, you design it for one person. When you design a room, you design it for a family. When you design a house or building, it is for a community.”

RB: I’ve always gravitated towards architecture because it’s a discipline with rules. I want students to know it is a discipline you need to learn. There are all these pressures on your projects, which you must corral: sustainability, gravity, and structure. I encourage the students to tap into something uniquely theirs, springing from somewhere deep instead of AI. This seems to be the path forward in the face of relentless technology: the individual.

PP: Whatever you’re pursuing, really learn your true self. It is the beat that makes us unique. Discover what you are within. 

RB: Pilar was once told, “Sometimes you have to crash a party!” At one crucial moment, she crashed a party, which led to a fantastic collaboration.

Finally, if you could arrange an art heist for any artwork in the world, what would it be?

RB: Anything by Sugimoto or Anselm Kiefer if we had room!  

PP: An Eva Hesse hanging work, Aught 1968, or a Louise Bourgeois piece. •

To see more of their projects and work, please visit them in person at 16 Main Street, Salisbury, CT; online via ralphpucci.com/artists/robert-bristow-pilar-proffitt/ or bristowproffitt.com or on Instagram: @bristowproffitt.studio.