Kenzi Wilbur, 2023, Em Breitkopf photo.

There’s no such thing as a “typical” antiques dealer. They are as varied as the goods they handle and come to the trade for a multitude of reasons and along a myriad of paths. Kenzi Wilbur, who we were introduced to by chance and who set up shop on Warren Street in Hudson, N.Y., in September 2024, has a refreshing story and take on the trade, which she shared with Antiques and The Arts Weekly.

On your website, you talk about your return to “old things” as being as much about escaping lineage as it is about “honoring the good parts of what came before us.” Can you share with our readers a little bit of your personal and professional journey and how it brought you to this particular moment?

How much time do you have?

I think, for a lot of us, antiques and old things represent traditions: what came before us. That lineage and those traditions can be so beautiful, but for me they’ve been complicated.

I grew up in an antique house and as the granddaughter of an antiques dealer. I’m surprised “they don’t make things like they used to” wasn’t my first phrase. As I got older, I became aware of the ways in which we keep ourselves imprisoned because of lineage, in many, many psychological ways but also at the hands of objects: The house I grew up in had many things we weren’t allowed to touch (let alone try to paint a wall — crazy!), and many things my parents don’t actually like but have out of familial obligation. I think sometimes, if we let it, lineage can chip away at our own creative expression, at our own identities. This is to say nothing about all of the complicated history of colonial antiques and pieces from occupations, which is a whole other thing to think about.

And so, my return to old things in my professional life — after about 15 years in media and entertainment — is as much about escaping lineage, finding my own creative expression and identity, as it is about honoring the good parts of what came before us.

I will say, though, that in the nature versus nurture argument of being an antiques dealer, nurture really did show me how much beauty can be in the old. If you’re one of us — or have been exposed to one of us — objects can really hold a special kind of gravitational pull. You can try to resist, but the force will win, eventually. Being a dealer is a byproduct of that gravity, and for me, a wish to consistently be surrounded by and taught by the objects I find. I love the hunt and then I like to learn from what I find — not just about their eras or their history (of course also those), but more: What is it about me that made me drawn to this?

Objects are one of the best catalysts for self-reflection. Not much — save for a few very special people in my life — has taught me more about myself.

Why the business name “Freaks’”?

It started with a brainstorming session at a diner, with friends. We got silly and started rhyming things with “antiques” (hire us for your next branding project), and my friend shouted “Freaks’ Antiques!” And then we kept going, onto other ideas. But it stuck with me. I thought about how I source. How the things that draw me are a little weird, a little left of center, very much themselves and they don’t care what you think. That kind of vibe. How they’re little freaks. How we all kind of are…and realizing that is such a beautiful thing.

But it didn’t become a real thing until I looked up the etymology and found that prior to the 1880s, people used to use the word “freak” to describe a fancy or usual thing. Then it had to be the name.

And, the apostrophe is at the end because I think of the shop as belonging to all of them, really.

Your virtual shop offers a variety of things from case goods, tables and chairs to textiles,
décor, ceramics and art. Where do you go to find things?

Where do I not go is the better question! Auctions, estate sales, yard sales, random basements if their owners will let me. Mostly in the US, but abroad some as well. Barn sales, Goodwill stores; as I’ve grown into this new profession, I’ve met some of the most wonderful dealers who work with me on occasion. Being a dealer is basically a lifetime of being on the hunt — we’ve turned the thing we could never turn off anyway into a job.

Is there a quality about things that draws you to them?

For sure. I tend to go for things that look like they’ve survived, but also like they “just woke up like this.” Does that make sense? I do my best to keep Freaks’ full of the most beautiful old wood and patina.

We (dealers, but also you, too; everyone, I think) are constantly projecting into objects, picking things that in some way feel like they either reflect our experience or they reflect what we want our experience to be. That feel like us.

For me, that means things that look like they’ve been through it: wear and tear, beat-up wood, old paint holding on for dear life but somehow looking more beautiful than it did when it was fresh. Freaks’ is not so much about the ostentatiously freaky, but about pieces that are subtle little freaks, and I’m always finding that in the scallop of a chair back, the frankensteining of old pottery repairs, the matchwork of Tramp art. Beautiful, time-worn pieces that have a wink — somewhere, if you’re looking for it — to offer you.

I also can’t stay away from a good chair. Chairs are one of the very few categories where form and function can push and pull on each other until they break. Which is to say: more or less, tables mostly need to hold stuff and stand up straight. Cupboards generally need to open and close. But chairs can be free enough to be pure sculpture — there are so many opportunities for art. Each curve, each leg, each bend of a back, each strut (do you even need a strut?) and so on. I’ll never get tired of looking for chairs that surprise me.

You also have a shop in Hudson — when did you open that and are there things that aren’t on your website?

I opened on Warren Street last September, which was a big move and risk for my little, self-funded business. It’s been wonderful so far, and I’m really grateful for that. I also work very hard for that.

There are roughly one million things in my shop that aren’t on the website. So many! It’s just me at Freaks’, so uploading photos and information for every one-of-a-kind piece sometimes falls behind the finding of the things themselves. I’m working on a new website this year, but until that happens, customers can always get in touch with me to see what I have in stock that’s in line with what they’re looking for.

Can you share some of the fun and interesting things you’ve bought/sold with our readers?

Definitely! I fall in love early and often with pieces. I’ll never forget this old make-do captain’s chair with these sweet little get-up handles that someone attached along the way. A who-knows-what spindle back chair that looks like a Windsor and a folk art sculpture had a love child sometime around the Salem witch trials is a close second. These days I can’t get enough of fringe, anywhere and everywhere, and I’m starting to fall hard for patchwork of any kind — metal on lamps, leather on furniture. I love the idea that a piece is presenting, proudly, that it’s glued together from a million little pieces. (See: the projection I talked about earlier. We can’t get away from it!)

I had a full meltdown when I learned about pyrography from a hall chair — the art of decorating wood by burning it. I recently sold a pair of Charles Dudouyt chairs that had the most insane, cubist wood carving on the seat backs — I still think about them.

Where would you like to see yourself and Freaks’ in five years?

Sustaining my life with this! With your readership I’m preaching to the choir, but it can be quite hard to make a living doing this without significant independent wealth, or a generation or two doing this before you. So that’d be cool.

I’m starting to design my own pieces, heavily inspired by all of the art I get to find in antiques every day.

I keep my shop a little on the dim side — I like it cozy, homey, warming — and I was talking to a dealer friend about this. He said: “Step into the light, Kenzi.” And he meant ‘light my windows better,’ but damn if he didn’t hit right to my core. I hope, five years from now, I’ve really stepped into the light. What that means exactly will surely change overtime, but I’m here and excited for all of it.

[Editor’s note: Freaks’ is at 339 Warren Street, open noon-5 pm, Thursday-Sunday, or at Door 15 at The Antiques Warehouse, at 99 South Third Street in Hudson. To reach Kenzi, 860-617-8278, freaksnewyork@gmail.com, www.freaksny.com or on Instagram: @freaksny.]

—Madelia Hickman Ring