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86 56 Coming from a townhouse that was double the size of their new apartment, they did some serious editing. "Rose Tarlow once said to surround yourself with the things you love," he says. "We finally did it here." They kept a family antique piano that belonged to Garrie's grandmother, along with Alexander's collection of native American pottery and tribal masks, acquired during their travels. "Our favorite place in the world is anywhere in the desert," Alexander says. "We've picked up a lot of things in Santa Fe, Paradise Valley, and little towns along the way. I'm selective about what I buy, and each piece I have speaks to me — it was made by someone, and there's a history there." When spaces are minimal, everything counts. Alexander managed to inject plenty of personality into his rooms without cluttering things up. To do that, he looked to some of his favorite design influences, including '70s designer John Dickinson. One of Dickinson's most iconic pieces, a three-footed plaster side table, sits next to a white goatskin coffee table by another icon of design, Karl Springer. "Dickinson was a master at pulling together different styles of furniture and objects to give rooms just the right quirkiness, and that's what I've tried to do here," Alexander says. "But I also wanted it to feel like me." And it does. "I'm structured and I love anything with a straight line. I'm not a curve person — even the patterns in my sofa pillows are just alternating lines, and there's a zigzag pattern made from the nail-head trim on my headboard. Everything has geometry." Alexander has worked with J. Randall Powers for six years, so naturally a lot of the sophisticated, art-filled style their firm is known for has rubbed off. "I have a lot of Randy's lighting for Visual Comfort, and he's taught me so much about art in general," Alexander says. "One of my favorite artworks is the Donald Baechler lithograph above the piano — it was a Christmas gift from Randy." On the piano are an old African mask and an intriguing drawing of a face using drips of red India ink, by South Africa-born artist BJ Broekhuizen. "Brian and I laugh and say there is a certain dark undercurrent to most of our art," Alexander says. "We like the juxtaposition of beauty and darkness — it speaks to what humans experience." Al Souza's Moon Dancers, located above the bar in the living room, sets Alexander's thoughts racing. "I stare at it every morning. I often wonder if the dancers symbolize demons — we all have our demons, and they are forever dancing. At least mine are," he says. In that same grouping is a collection of medical and circumcision masks, including one that's been charred in a fire. The role of art is to make us consider ourselves in its reflection, he muses, even if that artwork is not always understood by others. "One day Brian mentioned to me that almost all of our art has a face. I often wonder if they are looking back at us for the same answers we are asking." The mood for contemplating art and other matters is set with flickering Jo Malone grapefruit candles and something beautiful streaming from the Sonos wireless speakers, such as a classical Abel Korzeniowski film score. "We refer to our apartment as a cocoon," Alexander says. "Our lives are filled with chaos, but this is the one place where all is calm. It's the one spot in the world that's purely ours." In the living room are a Karl Springer coffee table and John Dickinson plaster side table. The chair is Donghia. J. Randall Powers for Visual Comfort floor lamp. (continued)