Photos By Gail

It’s always a good day when I wander into R & Company on Franklin Street, because there’s no telling what kind of design sorcery will be waiting inside. During a recent visit, one piece in particular caught me eye: a towering, fur-covered illuminated sculpture by artist and designer Rogan Gregory that looked less like a lamp and more like a benevolent life-form that drifted in from a warmer, softer dimension.

At first glance, the sculpture has a disarming, almost creaturely presence. Its long, curving spine rises from a bulbous base that rests heavily on the floor, then arcs gently overhead in a graceful swoop. The entire surface is wrapped in creamy, plush fur — the kind that makes you want to reach out and pet it, even though you suspect it might purr (or vibrate) in response. At the sculpture’s head, a warm pool of light glows from within the fur, giving the piece a quietly sentient energy. It feels alive. Or maybe it’s just dreaming.

Gregory is well known for his Fertility Form series — those smooth, gypsum sculptures inspired by cellular division and embryonic growth — but this furry light belongs to a different, more mischievous branch of his evolutionary tree. While his hard-surfaced, biomorphic forms draw from geology and marine structures, these soft, fur-wrapped works explore tactility, humor, and an almost primal sense of animal instinct. They’re lamps, yes, but lamps with personality that behave like characters.

Part of what makes this piece so arresting is its scale. The sculpture towers above the eye line, creating an immediate sense of interaction between viewer and object. It looms, but kindly. The organic arc of its body feels protective, almost nurturing, as if the glowing “head” is bowing down to illuminate your path or whisper a warm secret. Gregory has always been interested in blurring the boundaries between the biological and the fantastical, and here that instinct takes on a soft, tactile twist. The fur transforms the form: instead of reading as alien or abstract, it reads as approachable — a mammal from another universe, or a prehistoric plant that learned how to snuggle.

Lighting is at the core of Gregory’s practice, and this piece is no exception. The illumination is subtle and directional, glowing downward from beneath the fur in a diffuse, golden wash. Instead of calling attention to the light source, Gregory uses light as an animating force — something that breathes life into the sculpture rather than simply powering it. The effect is almost cinematic: a creature caught mid-gesture, illuminated from within by some private luminescence.

This furry illuminated sculpture not only brightens a room; it shifts its atmosphere. It’s humorous, uncanny, elegant, and tactile all at once — a rare combination in any medium, but especially in lighting design. If you happen to be in SoHo, I highly recommend stepping inside R & Company to meet this gentle, glowing oddity in person. Just don’t be surprised if you feel it looking back.