On a sunny day like today in Venice, very near the spot that Kelly Cutrone once worked as a tarot card reader and Jack Kerouac squatted in a flophouse, the boardwalk was packed. The man parading his three turtles in tiny glass houses, the woman with three young children strolling with a fierce green parrot posed on her shoulder and the man hawking the Freak Show, free for children under six, bald and sunburned were no more curious than the pelicans shrieking on the roofs on the honky tonk buildings.
Tables of cheesey 2.00 trinkets, henna tattoos, a different tarot card reader, a vendor with Banksy prints (photocopies from the internet) and then there was Ramiro Perez earnestly talking to women about the healing nature of a bracelet, a talisman. Hand wrought pieces of ordinary materials, nothing was precious or refined. Maybe it seems strange that my first thought was that his pieces would show so well against a black Yohji Yamamoto dress and my second thought was the memory of discovering Herve Van Der Straetten twenty years ago in Paris: the language of craft that transcends the material.
Mr. Perez sits patiently on the boardwalk waiting for customers. He is bemused by me asking what shops he sold; he waves a hand and says he wouldn't like that. His work is not usual: these are artifacts imbued with his gentleness, that he believes will empower the wearer. Talismans.
This is work to treasure and collect. I don't know whether Mr. Perez will sell at Colette in Paris, Brown's in London, Maxfield in West Hollywood or just under an umbrella at Venice Beach. I wish the photos captured the sensuality and importance of his work.
Actually, those necklaces would set up a Rick Owens dress perfectly.
The Way Of The Hand.