As Borges said about artists: 'When everything rises dizzily, in the soul of a poet, everything can at the same time be enclosed in a nut. Concentrated: as in a jewel'. A phrase that comes in handy. The neighbourhood: on the edge of Brera, a jewel of an area, almost secluded, in a busy city. The gallery: a jewel of an atelier, small and measured. The atmosphere: a jewel of books, Brahms music, church bells opposite. The name: Thelonious, a mixture of Greek wisdom and Dadà irreverence. The creative: a gentleman, with the air of a boy brimming with vitality, a cultured and restless traveller. The furnishings: jewel-furniture, disarranged in a skilful 'harmony of the spheres', between Art Deco, Loos' bistros, the brasses of transatlantic liners of yesteryear. And finally, the jewellery: unique pieces, gathering the world's heritage, from 'barbaric golds' to postmodern sneers. Inimitable. An hour spent well, which compensates for the other twenty-three, frayed in the chatter of the world: an hour that cannot be forgotten, like a fusion food which, however, beware, can be addictive.

Try it to believe!

 Text by 

Pieter Von Balthasar