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AARON R. THOMAS Written by Chantal Lamers Photographs by Coleen Rider To begin with, let's just say that the studio occupied by Aaron R. Thomas seems uncharacteristically situated. The 34-year-old designer, sculptor and artist with a proclivity for having his way (quite nicely) with acrylic, seems better suited "cozied" away in some hip, industrial-style loft. There, considerable glass doors would slide wide-open revealing puffs of smoke and orange sparks that pop off welding machines. Ideally, it would be someplace his constant craftsmen could be spotted cracking the tops off bottled beers late on Friday afternoons.
Instead, A.R.T. Inc. is hidden away in an industrial strip mall in Orange County's San Juan Capistrano. The lobby, more like an oddly arranged art show, is neatly littered with enough peculiar, chic pieces to occupy one in a guessing game of sorts for quite some time. (Among the mix, something named the "Chandelireum." Made from cut strips of acrylic, it was baked to wobbly noodle form, to allow Thomas to shape the massive lighting fixture.)
When Thomas reveals himself (chances are he was blacksmithing, blowing glass, welding or experimenting somehow with a flame thrower) the first thing you might notice is his unruly, dark Spanish curls, propped on top of his head in a ponytail. A dense beard wraps his Cheshire smile. Oh, and the fact that he seems utterly, genuinely happy won't escape you, either.
Thomas made his mark by fabricating flawless acrylic pieces, which can be purchased through his online shop, aaronthomas.com. These days, he's especially hot among the luxury commercial and hospitality industries for his easy gift to manufacture and install striking pieces that create dreamy, dramatic experiences. "I'm an artist and a sculptor more than an acrylic man," says Thomas. "So even though it was the bread-and-butter and it's still a large part of what we like to do because its complexity and beauty, I'm known (now) more for artistic pieces of any media. With no boundaries, really."
It can be as subtle as a carefully etched acrylic display table at Neiman Marcus for parking pairs of Manolo Blahniks. Or something he engineered, like a fireworks canister (made of polycarbonate, Pyrex and stainless steel) designed for lighting the sparklers safely for the Los Angeles nightclub MyHouse.
Or something absolutely stunning, like the reverse water lily leather ceiling tiles made for LA's new restaurant, East. When lit, the handcrafted pieces cast shadows on the ground, giving the sensation you are walking on water. Perhaps more mesmerizing is the rich, black lacquered burlwood communal dining table, which looks as if it's growing into the earth, he painstakingly designed for the eatery. "When we walk into firms and talk to designers, they don't really think it's really possible to make the things they are dreaming of until they meet us," he says. "I'm an architect, I'm a designer, I'm a painter," says Thomas. "I have to draw everything out. I'm a storyteller. I have to tell a story. I have to get the point across. I have to sell my concepts. All the furniture is hand painted or completely hand built one-off so I have to categorize everything as art. I can't really call it furniture; I'm not really a furniture shop. I'm an artist. I'm an artist in shop." He was just a boy when he stumbled upon his knack for working with acrylic. His master-craftsman father, Ed Thomas (whose talents are being used at his A.R.T. Inc. now), started a small acrylic display business in Costa Mesa in the 60's. Aaron Thomas rode his bike from workshop to workshop, collecting acrylic remnants that he crafted into sculptures. Summers and afternoons after school were spent learning to hang drywall, peaking over the shoulders of architects and inventors or experimenting with tools he snuck from his dad's shop. It stuck with him, and as an adult Thomas turned heads with his acrylic inventions, including the Eames plywood lounge chair reinvented in the clear material. His capability for working with acrylic was clear even to one of its master designers, Charles Hollis Jones. Thomas spent some time working and learning from Jones. Later he commissioned Thomas to re-create several of his iconic pieces for a retrospect of his work in Palm Springs. But acrylic is a nasty material to work with, something Thomas is honest about. "It's expensive, it's raw, it's thick, it's clear, it's optically clear. We have to push and pull this stuff and drag it and work with it and buff it and sand it and pick it up. Some of these pieces weigh like a thousand pounds and we have to keep it from getting scratched. It's crazy and it's an incredible challenge. It's complex because you can see through it, and you can't hide anything." The intricacy of acrylic isn't the only reason that Thomas has moved beyond using it as the sole centerpiece of his work. At the moment, colors are a big influence, reflected in an array of graffiti style art he's taken up. "It's the beautiful pop-y colors used to express so much emotion and vibrations and happiness. I think I like the instant satisfaction of having a lot of cans available with so many different colors, to just pick that emotion right out." Thomas never seems to take issue with making the leap from artist to inventor. Which is why what he has planned next might comes as no big surprise. "I think that being able to use things that are alive in my works is in the future."
Now it's time to integrate the materials he's already worked into organic forms. To produce something like, perhaps, hydroponics units, he says. Pieces of art and furniture that encompass complete growing environments to produce vegetation inside one's home. "It's art that produces oxygen," he says.
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