Stalking the Palazzo Chupi
As I was running a few work errands, I came across the Palazzo Chupi on 360 W. 11th. While some critics find it a testament to architect Julian Schnabel’s selfdom, I neck craned for 10 minutes, admiring its filmic qualities and created scenarios if I were to live there. It would be especially beautiful on rainy days. Listen, I can’t help it. And when you’re staying with friends, saving, and trying to find a place, deliriously, anything seems possible.
I pulled up the specs- built on top of a former stable, boasting 19 ft high ceilings, mighty french doors, terraces, balconies, 44 ft long skylit swimming pool with steam room, on and on. $12,950,000. I never think of myself as a sucker for extravagance, nor do I envision my dream home having these many zero’s or being pink. But somehow this chimerical crash pad got me all dreamy. I love bars, coffee shops, etc that have the capability to transport me somewhere else via my mammoth imagination. Of course this all led me to think about how the only way I could live in the West Village at this point would be to befriend someones long lost grandparent, visit to read them Chekov, and Brodsky- or better yet get nostalgic with Burroughs and have them regale me with stories of the beat movement and they’d leave their brownstone to me. Is that run-on sentence an awfully wretched to say?
Anyway, this creation gives tribute to a Northern Italian palazzo.
Obviously not my photos:
To see the interior, check out http://palazzochupi.com/