Imagine a home where every object tells a story, blending cultures, eras, and artistry into a seamless, captivating whole. That’s the world of Dana Arbib, a designer whose work defies easy categorization. But here’s where it gets controversial: Is she an artist, a designer, or something entirely her own? Let’s dive into her mesmerizing glass menagerie and find out.
Arbib’s quest for a quieter corner of New York City seems almost ironic, given her vibrant, eclectic life. Her downtown neighborhood, a bustling crossroads of Little Italy, Chinatown, and Soho, mirrors her own heritage—a melting pot of Libyan, Italian, Canadian Jewish, and New Yorker identities. This cultural tapestry is woven into everything she creates, from her glass collections to her impeccably curated apartment. To reach her home, a former horse stable, I had to navigate the chaotic San Gennaro street festival, a stark contrast to the serene, sunlit haven inside.
And this is the part most people miss: Arbib’s home isn’t just a collection of beautiful things; it’s a living archive of her life, her travels, and her influences. Over a breakfast of shakshouka, a North African dish from her childhood, we’re surrounded by objects that tell stories. A Gio Ponti saucepan sits alongside a blackened, dented one from her Libyan grandmother. Vintage Italian plates, Venetian glasses with cheeky nipple-like protrusions (her own design), and flamework glasses from a single Venetian artisan—each piece is a testament to her belief in uniqueness over mass production. “I never want to make anything for mass production,” she declares, and her home is a manifesto of this philosophy.
Her dining table, a ’70s-inspired design, sits beneath a glass fixture from her Vetro Orto collection, inspired by nature’s patterns. The chairs, by Charlotte Perriand, and the carefully sourced objects around us—from family heirlooms to pieces by artist friends—create a space that feels both timeless and deeply personal. “I never buy retail,” she jokes, admitting to spending hours on auction sites and in the New York Public Library’s picture collection. Her home is a masterclass in intentionality, where every object is thoughtfully considered and artfully placed.
But here’s where it gets controversial: As we tour her apartment, I struggle to describe its style. Is it late ’80s? Early ’90s? Or does it channel the ’70s? Arbib laughs, “It feels like Milan in the ’90s, but also a NY loft in the ’70s.” This ambiguity is deliberate. She works with interior designer Olivia Stutz to ensure her references aren’t too obvious, creating a space that feels both familiar and unexpected. In the living room, a white sofa inspired by Andrée Putman sits beside a “Frankensteined” coffee table and a Gaetano Pesce chair shaped like a cat. On the walls, a wax nose by Loup Sarion and a rare Gio Ponti painting on mirrored glass add layers of intrigue. It’s a room that’s both Milanese sophistication and New York louche—a perfect reflection of Arbib herself.
Her design process is equally fascinating. She draws from a vast internal encyclopedia of visual references, from movie interiors (think The Godfather and Baby Boom) to ancient relics and Italian modernism. Her newest light fixtures, inspired by Chinese snuff bottles, and her chandeliers, which evoke both Armani Casa and archaeological digs, blur the lines between ancient and modern. “I make with artisans because they use old production methods,” she explains. “I want the pieces to be something you keep forever.”
Take her piece Mille Bolle, a bubbly glass vase held by curved green legs. Inspired by a Libyan artifact, the green is “the color of Venice”—a hue she discovered during a solitary visit in 2020. Achieving that exact shade took months of collaboration with artisans, a testament to her relentless pursuit of precision.
But here’s where it gets controversial: Arbib’s work challenges the American art world’s separation of artists and designers. In Europe, architects like Carlo Scarpa and Gio Ponti are celebrated as artists. Why not Arbib, who works through design? Her earlier venture, the artisanal fashion brand A Peace Treaty, was ahead of its time, collaborating with specialized artisans from Pakistan to Peru. Yet, despite its success, she felt the fast pace and wastefulness of fashion were at odds with her values. Now, her glasswork and home collections feel like a return to her roots—timeless, bold, and deeply personal.
As we stand in her closet/archive, I see the same sensibility in her coats, clothing, and accessories. Her jewelry could easily pass for Charlotte Chesnais, her skirts for Jonathan Anderson. “I still treat my work as collections,” she says. “Each exhibit is a whole vision or story, just with different objects.”
Dana Arbib’s world is a testament to the power of intentional living and creating. Her home, her work, her very being challenge us to rethink categories and embrace the beauty of blending. But here’s the question: In a world that demands labels, can we celebrate artists like Arbib who defy them? What do you think? Let’s discuss in the comments.
For more of her work, visit dana-arbib.com.
