Sahir Ahmed

2 weeks ago | family.style | Qingyuan Deng |Jane Lewis |Elisa Lipsky-Karasz |Sahir Ahmed

When I meet Oliver Osborne at Francis Irv on a rainy afternoon in May for coffee, I am immediately struck by the degrees of self-trust he has in his practice. “The history of painting in England does not interest me,” the Edinburgh-born artist replies when I ask him where he draws influence. Osborne is a painter who is always looking elsewhere.

2 weeks ago | family.style | Jane Lewis |Qingyuan Deng |Elisa Lipsky-Karasz |Sahir Ahmed

Soft light emanates from a miniature table lamp that resembles a tall, polished candle. Both a light source and an art piece, its widened base anchors an angular, see-through lampshade at the top. This portable fixture marks the 10th anniversary of Flos’ first collaboration with Philippe Starck. Named Bon Jour Unplugged, the design reflects the French industrial architect’s  signature aesthetic that fuses form and function and combines diverse materials like plastic, aluminum, and chrome.

1 month ago | family.style | Beverly Nguyen |Sahir Ahmed |Emma Schartz

There is nothing like waking up to the French Riviera on an early clear morning at the start of spring. This week, tens of thousands will descend upon the resort town off the Mediterranean coast for the 78th annual Cannes Film Festival, filling city streets as they stop between screenings to unwind on by the water, debrief over drinks, and collect souvenirs to bring back home.

1 month ago | family.style | Sahir Ahmed |Emma Schartz

Frieze has evolved quite a bit since making its debut in New York City 13 years ago. Long gone are the days of breezy ferry rides across the East River to the airy tent on Randall’s Island—a trek that felt spiritually rejuvenating. Now it’s a commute to the Shed in Hudson Yards, a corporate enclave clamoring after the zeitgeist. Inside, however, there are gallerists, curators, and creatives with heart, and often a sense of humor.

1 month ago | family.style | Sahir Ahmed

Picture this: It’s San Francisco in 1932 on a foggy night in early May. Isadore “Izzy” Gomez is holding court on Pacific Street. Inside his saloon, it’s standing room only. Painters, printers, and poets are elbow-to-elbow, swapping gossip over thick-cut steaks and one too many rounds of gin. Wine is flowing, the piano is out of tune and nobody is paying for anything they can’t talk their way out of.