Ace Hotel

Judson Studios in Highland Park, Los Angeles, has been making stained glass for churches and temples both secular and religious for well over a century. Founder William Lees Judson, inspired by the Arts and Crafts movement of his native England, was one of cofounders of the Arroyo Guild, an influential group of Southern Californian artisans. He also founded the Los Angeles College of Fine Arts — which later became the University of Southern California College of Fine Arts — in the original studio, a shared space frequented by artists, craftspersons and architects like Frank Lloyd Wright, whose Hollyhock House features leaded glass, pictured above, by Judson Studios. 
The present studio, in operation since 1920, is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. We’re proud to work with the present generation of artisans at Judson Studios, who are creating custom stained glass for Ace Hotel Downtown Los Angeles.

Judson Studios in Highland Park, Los Angeles, has been making stained glass for churches and temples both secular and religious for well over a century. Founder William Lees Judson, inspired by the Arts and Crafts movement of his native England, was one of cofounders of the Arroyo Guild, an influential group of Southern Californian artisans. He also founded the Los Angeles College of Fine Arts — which later became the University of Southern California College of Fine Arts — in the original studio, a shared space frequented by artists, craftspersons and architects like Frank Lloyd Wright, whose Hollyhock House features leaded glass, pictured above, by Judson Studios. 

The present studio, in operation since 1920, is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. We’re proud to work with the present generation of artisans at Judson Studios, who are creating custom stained glass for Ace Hotel Downtown Los Angeles.


Passionately devoted to contemporary art and artists, Dorothy and Herb Vogel—a New York City postal clerk and a librarian—began, in 1962, to build what would become a legendary art collection. They collected the art of their time and got to know the artists and their work, eventually bringing together some 5,000 artworks. In 1991, the Vogels donated most of their collection to the National Gallery in Washington. In addition, they selected 50 works for one museum in each of the 50 U.S. states. The Seattle Art Museum is the beneficiary in the state of Washington and will exhibit the Vogel gift in the spring of 2013, which will be contextualized by works from the museum’s collection.
– Catharina Manchanda, Jon & Mary Shirley Curator of Modern & Contemporary Art
The Dorothy and Herbert Vogel Collection : Fifty Works for Fifty StatesSeattle Art Museum, Third Floor Galleries, through October 27, 2013

Passionately devoted to contemporary art and artists, Dorothy and Herb Vogel—a New York City postal clerk and a librarian—began, in 1962, to build what would become a legendary art collection. They collected the art of their time and got to know the artists and their work, eventually bringing together some 5,000 artworks. In 1991, the Vogels donated most of their collection to the National Gallery in Washington. In addition, they selected 50 works for one museum in each of the 50 U.S. states. The Seattle Art Museum is the beneficiary in the state of Washington and will exhibit the Vogel gift in the spring of 2013, which will be contextualized by works from the museum’s collection.

– Catharina Manchanda, Jon & Mary Shirley Curator of Modern & Contemporary Art

The Dorothy and Herbert Vogel Collection : Fifty Works for Fifty States
Seattle Art Museum, Third Floor Galleries, through October 27, 2013


Coultrain - A Gem Iza Jewel


Of his many feats of daring, Harry Smith is likely most well known for his Anthology of American Folk Music, an act of assemblage that threw back the gray flannel curtain of the fifties and offered a glimpse into a weirder America, inspiring a generation of songwriters and listeners. Here’s Charley Patton’s growl like the plea of a ravaged crop on ‘Mississippi Boweavil Blues.’ Uncle Dave Macon is unhinged if not ingenuous, pledging, “Won’t get drunk no more…” on ‘Way Down the Old Plank Road.’ The Alabama Sacred Harp Singers are ethereal, like ghosts trapped in wax. Here’s the fatalism and syncretic religion of an America where strange spirits roamed the land from the Dockery Plantation to Appalachia. This isn’t an America you can straitjacket into the fifties forever, not when conjurer Mister Smith reincarnates the armies of what we were. Upon accepting a Lifetime Achievement Award at the Grammies, he said “I’m glad to say my dreams came true. I saw America changed by music.” And so he did. Because he changed America with music. We’re celebrating the life of Harry Smith — a one-time resident of the building that has now become Ace Hotel New York — later this month on his ninetieth birthday, with music and readings by people who knew him and people he changed.

The songbook picture was lovingly defaced by Harry Smith.

Of his many feats of daring, Harry Smith is likely most well known for his Anthology of American Folk Music, an act of assemblage that threw back the gray flannel curtain of the fifties and offered a glimpse into a weirder America, inspiring a generation of songwriters and listeners. Here’s Charley Patton’s growl like the plea of a ravaged crop on ‘Mississippi Boweavil Blues.’ Uncle Dave Macon is unhinged if not ingenuous, pledging, “Won’t get drunk no more…” on ‘Way Down the Old Plank Road.’ The Alabama Sacred Harp Singers are ethereal, like ghosts trapped in wax. Here’s the fatalism and syncretic religion of an America where strange spirits roamed the land from the Dockery Plantation to Appalachia. This isn’t an America you can straitjacket into the fifties forever, not when conjurer Mister Smith reincarnates the armies of what we were. Upon accepting a Lifetime Achievement Award at the Grammies, he said “I’m glad to say my dreams came true. I saw America changed by music.” And so he did. Because he changed America with music. We’re celebrating the life of Harry Smith — a one-time resident of the building that has now become Ace Hotel New York — later this month on his ninetieth birthday, with music and readings by people who knew him and people he changed.

The songbook picture was lovingly defaced by Harry Smith.


The Usual is a local surf mag published in Montauk. Their latest issue is in partnership with Patagonia, leading up to their Bowery shop location opening early summer of this year. Keep an eye out.

The Usual is a local surf mag published in Montauk. Their latest issue is in partnership with Patagonia, leading up to their Bowery shop location opening early summer of this year. Keep an eye out.


Seattle-based Blackbird Ballard is camping out at the shop above Rudy’s Barbershop next door to Ace Hotel New York until the first day of July. Stop in for incense pyres and friendly faces.

Seattle-based Blackbird Ballard is camping out at the shop above Rudy’s Barbershop next door to Ace Hotel New York until the first day of July. Stop in for incense pyres and friendly faces.


“In loving him, I saw a cigarette between the fingers of a hand, smoke blowing backwards into the room and sputtering planes diving low through the clouds. In loving him, I saw men encouraging each other to lay down their arms. In loving him, I saw small-town laborers creating excavations that other men spend their lives trying to fill. In loving him, I saw moving films of stone buildings; I saw a hand in prison dragging snow in from the sill. In loving him, I saw great houses being erected that would soon slide into the waiting and stirring seas. I saw him freeing me from the silences of the interior life.” 
― David Wojnarowicz, Close to the Knives: A Memoir of Disintegration
Wojnarowicz’s journals have been digitized by the Fales Library at NYU. They, like he, are things of beauty.

“In loving him, I saw a cigarette between the fingers of a hand, smoke blowing backwards into the room and sputtering planes diving low through the clouds. In loving him, I saw men encouraging each other to lay down their arms. In loving him, I saw small-town laborers creating excavations that other men spend their lives trying to fill. In loving him, I saw moving films of stone buildings; I saw a hand in prison dragging snow in from the sill. In loving him, I saw great houses being erected that would soon slide into the waiting and stirring seas. I saw him freeing me from the silences of the interior life.” 

― David Wojnarowicz, Close to the Knives: A Memoir of Disintegration

Wojnarowicz’s journals have been digitized by the Fales Library at NYU. They, like he, are things of beauty.


Shoreditch, East London.

Photo by Joost Schurr

Shoreditch, East London.


Photo by Joost Schurr


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