Jenna Krypell builds and rebuilds. The Brooklyn sculptor and painter moves between wood, mirror, hand-dyed resin, and paint, chasing how illusion, color, and surface play off each other. She sets her own limits early, then lets each piece evolve past where it started. Restriction first. Discovery after.

That logic shows up across her objects, vessel and floor alike.

Start with the Wiggle Vase. 37 inches of high-polish stainless steel, an undulating mirror with three keyholes on the back. It holds flowers, fresh or dry, but hangs like a painting and reads as sculpture first. Function is almost a footnote.

Her textiles run the same idea along the floor.

Take the Peek-a-boo Rug. Hand-tufted New Zealand wool, linear striations pulling the eye across a plush 22mm pile. Then the cutouts: elongated voids that expose the floor beneath. A rug that admits it is also an object.

The Weave Rug pushes harder. Striations interlock, over and under, with the same negative-space windows breaking the grid. Made to order, sized and colored to spec. It reads as woven even though nothing is.

These are collectible textiles, not floor covering. They reward the same long look as her sculptural installations, the same restless quality found when color and form spill from floor to sky.

Specify them where a space needs a pulse: a boutique lobby, a design-forward amenity floor, a reception that earns a second glance.

Nothing here stays still. That is the point.

_{Images Courtesy of Jenna Krypell}