The snake, which comes with hammered-gold rings as its rattle.
Erlacher, who’s been with the company ever since he came to the U.S. from Austria in 1957, was more accustomed to replicating ancient Roman urns than creating Smith’s shimmery, surreal snakes and kitties. “Kiki asked me to forget everything I know about engraving,” he says. “Ultimately we came up with something that’s never been done before—a new style. At first I thought it looked primitive, but now I realize it’s terrific.”
Unlike typical Kiki Smith works—which are often physically delicate and thematically weighty—the Steuben pieces are the kind of thing a noncollector might buy to casually adorn a bookshelf or office. This is what the artist had hoped for. “I like the idea of things on desks,” muses Smith, reclining on her studio’s sofa. “I love that people have these knickknacks, because the desk is a folly. It’s the scene of reported activity, but there’s a daydreamy, fantasy aspect to sitting at a desk.”
Part of the apple
