In Store: Curio Commons

When life turns dull, stop by Souvenir in Ballard to remember its myriad marvels.

It’s true that Souvenir sells jewelry, greeting cards and curios. But that’s not the whole story. This decorative arts gallery in Ballard offers customers and browsers alike a stimulating tête-à-tête with the curatorial genius of its owner, artist Curtis Steiner. I never know what I’ll find at his Ballard shop, but I’ve never left without an epiphany.

Photography by André Mora for City Arts.

On a recent visit, I homed in on some jewelry draped over a group of bottles. I tried to choose some favorites. The red coral bracelet by Marina Marioni has nubby, natural stems that transport me to the ocean. When I pick up a Chinese moss agate bracelet, Marioni, who works in the shop sometimes, puts it on her wrist, saying, “Look, its translucent discs create a peep show for your tattoos!” As I play this favorites game with the bracelets, it dawns on me that the jewelry is not the only art in front of me. The eighteen display bottles, once buried in Savannah’s rich soil, sport iridescent age spots. Their ghostly green glass speaks to my imagination. This one curves; that one squats. Perky, pugnacious, stolid ... each is unique. With all the mass-produced items in my life, there is room for something unique. But which to buy? A bottle or a bracelet?

Especially on a rainy day, I like best Steiner’s huge grocer’s cabinet from the Netherlands. He leaves some drawers half open. Peek in. Or, if you like the frisson, sneak in. The contents change over time: an old alligator-claw reticule, a delicate hair comb, some foosball fellows, hand-blown glass pipettes, a two-by-one-half-inch leather case of weight standards with tiny samples of brass, lead, iron, copper, aluminum, zinc and tin. Once I found lead-based nipple covers for lactating women, complete with instructions addressed to – excuse me? – their husbands!

The wide range of prices displayed on Steiner’s calligraphied price tags reflects his wish that everyone be able to participate. His superfine necklaces crafted out of antique materials don’t fit my budget (sigh). Ditto the ornate Patty Grazini paper shoes and the larger curios, such as the cool, massive metal mold. Steiner’s handmade cards, though? I can afford one of those. They don’t ring up at Hallmark prices, but then most folks don’t consider their Hallmark cards to be art. And I find a marvelous joy in the inexpensive wooden spool of old lavender embroidery floss that rolls sonorously to greet me as I tug one tippy drawer of that grocer’s cabinet all the way open. Who owned it originally? I wonder. As I cradle it, I begin to transcend time.

This spell falls on me every time I enter the shop. Yes, my heart beats and my watch still works. But layer upon layer of detail greets my eye, rewarding each whispered “one more minute, then I’ll finish my errands” with a deeper consciousness, a deeper understanding of where beauty can be found. I notice not just the sheen of a top hat, for example, but its maker’s label inside too. I read the maker’s long name; it sounds like an incantation, and I travel back in time. I stare at the hat’s lining – wispy strands of fraying cream-colored satin – and it begins to fill my entire field of view, morphing into a delicate personal sculpture. This is not just any old hat; it has become art.

If you look for a big sign, you probably won’t find Souvenir. There’s only a small, hand-lettered card on the deeply recessed door. Best to just walk along Ballard Avenue; when you catch a whiff of the truly extraordinary, of art mixed with mystery, you’re there. •

Souvenir
5325 Ballard Ave. NW
206.297.7116
curtissteiner.com