Anytime I pull them out to wear, it happens without fail: a collective sharp intake of breath from those I cross paths with, followed immediately by the inevitable, urgent question: “Where are those from?”
Long before I owned these Hosken Inc. regal pieces, I had spent years quietly admiring Charlotte von Hardenburgh’s curatorial vision. She has dedicated her professional life to recovering brilliant, overlooked female pioneers from the margins of history, a devotion that earned her the inaugural American Women’s History Initiative Research Fellowship at Cooper Hewitt. Her scholarship has been instrumental in shaping landmark moments, from her contributions to the retrospective exhibition of American textile pioneer Dorothy Liebes, to unearthing the uncompromising designs and monumental humanitarian work of Austrian-American Jewish émigré Fran Hosken.
Charlotte commands the room not just with this immense curatorial rigor, but with a sharp, utterly singular personal style. When I finally tracked her down to purchase a few pieces for my personal collection, it felt like a race against the clock. I secured them just as they were being selected and spoken for by major museums. Slipping them on for the first time, I felt the distinct weight of stewardship. I wasn’t just wearing jewelry; I was the custodian of an archival legacy that demanded to be honored, respected, and worn with a matching reverence.
The physical objects prove that truly exceptional design carries an elastic longevity, effortlessly crossing generations, medium boundaries, and decades of quiet storage.
The catalyst for this week’s collaboration, however, traces back to the beginning of this year at Frieze Los Angeles with Marissa Jartcky, the founder of DESMAR. There is nothing more pleasurable than navigating the dizzying terrain of an art fair with a friend who intimately understands the architecture of it all, from the gallerists and the artists to the nuanced machinery of its commerce. We were standing at the Hoffmann Donahue booth, admiring Adam Alessi’s work, right after several people had stopped to ask about my Hosken earrings. In one of those beautifully serendipitous moments, we ran into writer Dalya Benor. Beyond being Alessi’s partner, she is a formidable editor at The Slowdown and The Pleasure Lists, and as it turned out, she was already firmly initiated into the inner circle of the Fran Hosken archive.
Standing there in the crowd, we bonded instantly over our mutual reverence for “Chip”, as Charlotte is affectionately known to those close to her. Right then and there, a seed was planted: Marissa, with her hyper-discerning eye at DESMAR and Charlotte, with her exceptional, excavated treasury of Hosken Inc. pieces, simply had to partner. It was an aesthetic inevitability to bring this preservation-led work to light, creating an exhibition and intellectual shopping experience where the curation is impeccable.
It is rare that I suffer from true fear of missing out, but being in New York this week while their collaborative preview comes to life in Los Angeles has me wishing I could step through a portal just to support them in person. Still, I am deeply thrilled to share this space with them today. The work of both of these incredible women reminds us that quality design and exploration is never bound by a single era or medium. It deserves to occupy more eyes, more minds, and more conversations—to be worn on the body, integrated into the home, and met with the absolute homage it commands.
Anatomy of a Collaboration
The DESMAR x CvH preview currently unfolding in Los Angeles is a living study in creative ancestry. By bringing the rare, 80-year-old architectural jewelry of Fran Hosken into direct dialogue with DESMAR’s contemporary custom furniture and collected antiques, Jartcky and von Hardenburgh are proving that exceptional design operates on a singular, interconnected frequency.
To understand the weight of what they have staged, one must look at the distinct intellectual blueprints both women bring to the floor.
I. The Scholar’s Eye: Charlotte von Hardenburgh
In a design landscape dominated by flat, digital consumption, von Hardenburgh’s practice operates as a vital, tactile counterweight. Whether she is guiding her fashion history students at FIT or leading typography students through hands-on archival sessions in stone-carving and typesetting, her ethos is rooted in physical, slow-made literacy.
By eschewing traditional museum frameworks to open her private gallery, CvH, within a domestic Brooklyn townhouse, she has democratized how we interact with history. In her world, an archival object isn’t isolated behind glass; it is integrated into the daily cadence of an interior space. Backed by a background in Gender and Sexuality Studies from The New School, her research acts as a radical historical restoration. She bypasses well-trodden design paths to recover the creative autonomy of female pioneers—proving that a singular woman can comfortably occupy the space of both a custodian of beauty and an uncompromising activist.
II. The Merchant’s Blueprint: Marissa Jartcky
If Charlotte provides the historical heartbeat, Marissa Jartcky provides the sharp, spatial choreography required to bring it into the contemporary stream of commerce. Having cut her teeth leading buying and merchandising within the hyper-conceptual, avant-garde world of Dover Street Market and Comme des Garçons, Jartcky possesses a rare, powerful duality: an uncompromising, daring eye backed by a rigorous, data-driven business acumen.
At DESMAR, Jartcky translates this fashion-bred pedigree into the domestic sphere, designing custom furniture and procuring antiques that offer a slow, grounded alternative to algorithm-driven trends. Her compositions are masterclasses in form, lighting, and textures—vignettes that force disparate objects to actively converse with one another. By staging this offline, highly tactile encounter in Los Angeles, DESMAR bridges the grand scale of furniture with the intimate scale of jewelry, reminding us that true style is never a transactional choice, but a deeply interior act.
In Conversation: Charlotte von Hardenburgh on the Archaeology of the Archive
Formative Lens & Material Memory
Lauren Davis Britvan: Was there a specific moment or environment in your early life that first ignited your desire to look at design through a historical lens? How does developing that eye early on change how we view ordinary surroundings?
Charlotte “Chip” von Hardenburgh: I often trace my interest in design history back to my mother’s burl wood jewelry box—specifically, her sterling silver charm bracelet. Whenever she wore it I loved hearing the charms clanking as she moved her slender, tanned arms while animatedly telling a story. Growing up, I was fascinated by the bracelet—not simply because it was beautiful and felt like a circus on a wrist, but because every charm carried a story. Some marked milestones, others commemorated trips, friendships, or personal achievements. My favorite part was when I was allowed to help choose a new charm to add to the bracelet. It felt like participating in the preservation of family history.
“..objects are never just objects. They are vessels for memory, identity, and lived experience” —CvH
Looking back, I realize that the bracelet taught me one of the most important lessons of my career: objects are never just objects. They are vessels for memory, identity, and lived experience. Long before I knew the terms “material culture” or “curatorial practice,” I was already learning how stories become embedded in things.
“Ordinary objects begin to feel extraordinary…hidden in the objects we live with every day. The challenge—and the joy—is learning how to look closely enough to see it.”
Developing that perspective at a young age changes the way you move through the world. Ordinary objects begin to feel extraordinary. A receipt tucked into a book, a handwritten note, a piece of jewelry, or a worn piece of furniture all become clues to a larger narrative. As a historian and curator, I am constantly reminding people that history is not confined to museums or archives. It exists all around us, hidden in the objects we live with every day. The challenge—and the joy—is learning how to look closely enough to see it.
Tactile Literacy & Slow Craft
LDB: You have your students at FIT and Parsons physically engage with historic processes like stone-carving, calligraphy, and typesetting. Alongside seasonal field trips to New York City’s rich archival landscape, why is that hands-on connection to physical craft so vital today?
CvH: My students are makers, designers, and artists. They thrive when they are creating something with their hands, so as a history professor I am always looking for ways to connect historical lessons to physical experiences. Typography is a great example. Before typefaces existed, there was handwriting. I often ask students to slow down and reflect on the handwritten letter as a way of understanding typographic form. The fluidity of an ink pen gliding across paper reveals so much about why certain digital letterforms look the way they do. Suddenly typography is no longer an abstract concept—it becomes a physical process.
“..making something by hand requires observation, reflection, and decision-making. It teaches students to trust their own eyes and their own judgment.”
What has fascinated me since I began teaching in 2021 is that although my students are deeply connected to technology, they are equally drawn to analog experiences. They love the texture of coarse paper, the beauty of a crumpled receipt, the imperfections of letterpress printing. It’s almost as if physical objects feel retro to them, and therefore novel; there is a genuine craving for materiality. These activities do more than teach historical content. They cultivate patience, process, and empathy. When students spend even a few minutes carving stone, practicing calligraphy, or setting type by hand, they begin to understand the time, labor, and skill that historical makers invested in their work. That understanding creates a powerful connection across generations.
I also believe tactile experiences help cultivate an independent point of view. In a culture that moves incredibly fast and often encourages immediate reactions, making something by hand requires observation, reflection, and decision-making. It teaches students to trust their own eyes and their own judgment. That ability to slow down, engage deeply, and form personal conclusions is perhaps one of the most valuable creative skills we can develop today.
Curating Outside Institutional Walls
LDB: You chose to open CvH as an intimate gallery within your private home in Brooklyn rather than staying entirely within large-scale museums. What does a domestic setting teach us about experiencing art?
CvH: The opening of CvH was the result of several experiences converging. A close friend wanted to host a pop-up shop in New York and needed a venue, so I offered my home. I had so much fun transforming the space that I immediately started looking for opportunities to recreate that feeling.
Around the same time, I had completed my fellowship at Cooper Hewitt and was working for a gallery in Tribeca that had strict business hours and restrictions. My boss encouraged me to develop exhibitions using objects from the gallery and present them in my own home. That led to my first at-home exhibition, CERÁMICA ‘64, and gave me the confidence to continue curating independently.
The truth is that I have a lot of ideas and a cumbersome amount of energy. Institutions do extraordinary work, but they often move at a pace that cannot accommodate every idea. Creating CvH allowed me to experiment, collaborate, and build projects on my own timeline. Historically, museums began in domestic spaces through the kunstkammer tradition, which invited visitors into private homes to view collections of art, curiosities, furniture, and textiles. In many ways, CvH is participating in that lineage.
“..some of the most meaningful encounters with art and ideas happen in intimate spaces. There is something powerful about viewing historic objects while sitting in someone’s living room. It reminds us that art and history are not separate from everyday life; they are woven directly into it.”
I hope the space encourages people to think differently about their own homes. A home can be transformative—a gallery, a performance venue, a classroom, a library, or a gathering place. We often imagine culture as something that exists elsewhere, but some of the most meaningful encounters with art and ideas happen in intimate spaces. There is something powerful about viewing historic objects while sitting in someone’s living room. It reminds us that art and history are not separate from everyday life; they are woven directly into it.
Art, Activism, and the Multitudes of Fran Hosken
LDB: You hold a graduate certificate in Gender and Sexuality Studies from The New School, which offers a profound perspective when looking at Fran Hosken’s dual legacy: her whimsical, modular spring-jewelry on one hand, and her monumental, urgent humanitarian work in The Hosken Report on the other. How did your background in gender studies shape the way you unearth a narrative as multi-layered as Hosken’s? What does her life teach us about the expansive capacity of women to be both custodians of beauty and powerful voices for human rights?
CvH: First, thank you—that’s such a beautiful way of framing Fran Hosken’s legacy.
The very first exhibition I ever proposed and executed was for a grassroots feminist archive in New York in 2019. This organization had been active for more than fifty years and played a significant role in the effort to make Plan B available over the counter in New York. That project profoundly shaped how I think about archives, history, and activism. It taught me that archives are not neutral repositories of the past; they are records of people who actively worked to change the world.
“…archives are not neutral repositories of the past; they are records of people who actively worked to change the world…Whether she was designing objects for the body or advocating for bodily rights, she was ultimately concerned with human freedom.”
In many ways, that project prepared me for Fran Hosken. I was introduced to her through a jewelry historian who recognized the overlap between my interests and Hosken’s life—a woman whose commitment to feminist humanitarian work existed alongside a sophisticated Modernist design practice.
My background in Gender and Sexuality Studies has encouraged me to resist simplified narratives. Too often, women are expected to occupy a single category: artist or activist, intellectual or maker, designer or advocate. Hosken’s life refuses those distinctions. Her jewelry, architecture, photography, urban planning, and humanitarian work were expressions of a coherent worldview centered on equity, access, and human dignity.
The same woman who designed playful spring-wire jewelry also became one of the world’s foremost voices against female genital mutilation through The Hosken Report. At first glance, those achievements can seem disconnected. Yet they anchor a lifelong commitment to understanding the relationship between bodies, power, and autonomy. Whether she was designing objects for the body or advocating for bodily rights, she was ultimately concerned with human freedom.
“Fran Hosken demonstrates that a life can contain multitudes. Rather than diluting her impact, those identities strengthened one another…her legacy encourages us to embrace the full complexity of our interests and to recognize that meaningful change can emerge from many different forms of practice.
My research often focuses on women whose contributions have been overlooked because they don’t fit neatly into established categories. Hosken reminds us that creativity and activism are not opposing forces. Beauty and social responsibility can coexist.
Fran Hosken demonstrates that a life can contain multitudes. She was an architect, designer, photographer, writer, feminist, and humanitarian. Rather than diluting her impact, those identities strengthened one another.
Her legacy encourages us to embrace the full complexity of our interests and to recognize that meaningful change can emerge from many different forms of practice.
On Hosken’s Fleeting Jewelry Chapter
LDB: Fran Hosken was a true force: a Bauhaus protégée, a UN speaker, an architect, and an uncompromising voice for human rights. Yet, her incredible modular jewelry output spanned only a brief four-year window between 1947 and 1951 in an otherwise vast life. What else was she building or fighting for at that time, and why do you think she poured her energy into wearable art during this specific, fleeting chapter?
CvH: What fascinates me is that her jewelry compresses architectural ideas into an intimate scale. The spring-wire forms embody repetition, flexibility, and industrial production—the same principles that shaped postwar Modern architecture. During these years she was not simply making adornment; she was experimenting with how design could operate on and around the body. Looking back, the jewelry becomes an early chapter in a lifelong commitment to access and human-centered design, concerns that would later appear in her work as an architect, urban planner, feminist, and humanitarian.
Intimate Engineering & The Body
LDB: Hosken translated heavy Bauhaus architectural principles like modularity, spring-wire versatility, and machine-poetics into something intimate and playful for the body. Why do you think her jewelry feels so singular, even when compared to the broader landscape of postwar modern design?
CvH: I often describe Hosken’s jewelry as architecture at the scale of adornment. The body becomes the site where Modernist ideas are activated. Rather than asking people to inhabit a building, Hosken invited them to wear architectural principles directly on their skin.
This quality distinguishes her from many of her contemporaries. The jewelry is intellectually rigorous, but it never feels cold. It balances engineering with intimacy, structure with movement, and precision with joy. Additionally, Hosken’s jewelry is singular in that she truly embraced the machine, seeking to make mass-produced, affordable jewelry—a very Bauhaus mindset which integrates the ethos of democracy with exacting design.
Creative Seasons and Motherhood
LDB: It is incredibly poignant to note that Hosken Inc.’s brilliant, prolific design run wrapped up around 1951, directly intersecting with the birth of Fran’s first child. It highlights a reality so many modern readers navigate: the intense, delicate act of carving out space for artistic creation while experiencing the profound shifts of motherhood. From your deep dive into her personal archives, how do you see Fran navigating this pivot between her identity as a maker and her role as a mother? What does this chapter teach us about honoring the changing seasons of our own creative lives without viewing pauses as a compromise?
CvH: We tend to measure artistic success through continuous production, but Hosken’s life challenges that assumption. After jewelry, she devoted herself to architectural photography, urban planning, writing, and eventually humanitarian advocacy. The pause in one creative practice made room for others. Rather than viewing motherhood as an interruption, I see it as part of the broader evolution of her life and work.
“We tend to measure artistic success through continuous production, but Hosken’s life challenges that assumption…The pause in one creative practice made room for others. Rather than viewing motherhood as an interruption, I see it as part of the broader evolution of her life and work.
She was also a very atypical mother—she divorced her husband following the birth of their last child and proceeded to caravan her young children around Europe, teaching them from the Calvert Homeschooling Method and arranging ski lessons in the Alps during the winter. It was the sort of curriculum that was anomalous at the time and completely enviable in today’s educational landscape.
For contemporary creatives, especially women, Hosken offers a liberating lesson: a change in medium is not a loss of identity. Creativity can migrate and take new forms. A season of apparent quiet may actually be laying the groundwork for the most consequential work of one’s life. It’s also a great reminder to not be so precious with identity and strictly categorizing oneself as a jewelry designer, architect, mother, or photographer. You can freely test out ideas, embrace new personas, and then move on to the next thing that excites you.
“For contemporary creatives, especially women, Hosken offers a liberating lesson: a change in medium is not a loss of identity. Creativity can migrate and take new forms. A season of apparent quiet may actually be laying the groundwork for the most consequential work of one’s life. It’s also a great reminder to not be so precious with identity..”
The Hosken archive is currently on view this week at DESMAR in Los Angeles. Please reach out to info@desmarstudio.com for private appointment times.
For museum acquisitions, institutional placement, or purchase inquiries directly related to the Archival Jewelry of Fran Hosken, please contact Charlotte von Hardenburgh at charlottevh@newschool.edu.
Revisit this space tomorrow for Part II of our conversation, where we shift from the archive to the showroom floor. Founder Marissa Jartcky of DESMAR takes us inside the mechanics of creative commerce, visual daring, and the contemporary design salon.
Warmly,
Lauren
x
ENTICEMENT . New York
a wonderful article
Over on my Substack I talk about antiques, design and culture so you might find something that interests you! I’d LOVE to chat and connect!😊