Editor’s note: This is the first of a two-part series focusing on a day in the life of a large-animal veterinarian’s practice in the tri-corner region.
STANFORDVILLE — To travel with Dr. Isaac Angell of Bentley Veterinary Practice for a day was to witness a veterinary practitioner completely enamored with his work, and deeply connected to the region where he does that work.
Bentley Veterinary is a large-animal practice that specializes in farm animals. Its patients tend to fall on the large, stinky and hard-working side of the domesticated animal kingdom rather than the small, fluffy and genteel side.
On a recent January morning as we wended our way through the misty, dramatic hills of eastern Dutchess County and Litchfield County in Angell’s mobile animal-care truck — equipped with ultrasound, an array of medications, and surgical capabilities — Angell took the time between our various stops to share reflections from a lifelong devotion to veterinary medicine.
“I have a deep excitement for what we do. A tremendous respect for the field of veterinary medicine, and for my fellow practitioners … I often say it’s the animals that get you in, and it’s the people that make you stay.”
A soft-spoken man, quick to smile and quicker still to shift the spotlight from himself, Angell reiterated throughout the day his desire for our time together to spotlight the whole of veterinary medicine rather than his work alone.
“I think about that quote from ‘The Boys in the Boat’: ‘You can’t just write about me, you gotta write about the boat!’ The whole picture, the difficult parts and the joyful parts, are what make the job what it is … Still, for me, being a vet has always been a passionate dream.”
An average day for Angell or the other three veterinarians at Bentley often includes three to four visits — on busy days, that looks more like six or seven. While that might sound manageable, Angell’s practice offers service to an area larger than some states, from Canaan, Connecticut, to Woodstock, New York, to Great Barrington, Massachusetts. Much of Angell’s day is spent on the road between properties.
The necessity for this kind of travel can be traced to decades-long changes to the social and economic geography of the region. In 1972, there were 275 working dairy farms in Dutchess County. In 2022, there were just 15. While dairy production in the region has steadily increased, belying an emphasis on industrial-scale dairy farming, the number of working farmers has dropped steeply off a cliff.
“Growing up, on my road alone there were 10-11 dairy farms. Now there’re none.”
Angell and his wife and five children are the fourth generation of Angells to live on his family’s property. While he loves to work with all the clients he provides service to, Angell admitted to a bit of a soft spot for those who make a living working with animals: the vocational farmers that have grown rarer and rarer in the region. Helping those folks when able keeps him connected to the culture and tradition he was raised in.
Our day’s journey very much emphasized those connections, and consisted of three farm visits and a few social calls.
Old goats, vaccine shots, and estate farming
Our first stop was at a beautiful estate farm in the Northeast Corner. Angell characterizes estate farms as those properties owned by wealthier folks with a large amount of land and a desire to use some of that land for small-scale farming. Often, these estates hire full-time workers to manage the land and care for the animals, and those workers frequently come from the pool of inter-generational farming families that used to operate farms of their own.
Two old goats, 15 years apiece, and three donkeys received Angell’s practiced care that day.
Aside from the unending stares, everybody behaved themselves — shots were administered with minimal kicking and teeth were checked without biting. In addition to providing medical services, Angell also gave the animals’ caregivers advice on what feed to use, how much to give, and even where to buy certain products at a reasonable price.
The conversation between Angell and the property managers was easy and familiar, and the importance of maintaining good relationships is an element to his work that Angell considers both crucial to his success and one of the major perks of the job.
“I was taught pretty early on the value of developing a rapport with a client. You can’t treat the animal without the client.”
Angell’s range of clients means he often has to meet folks where they’re at in terms of the relationship they have to their animals. In addition to vocational farms, Bentley Veterinary works with three main types of clients: rescues and sanctuaries, backyard or estate farms, and equine organizations. An animal sanctuary may have thousands to spend on animal care, and a mission-driven investment in pursuing involved treatments. At a vocational farm, the reality can come down to economics, and many farms don’t have the money to spare.
Accordingly, Angell tries to approach every client with empathy and an understanding of where their decisions might be coming from, whether it’s a deep attachment to an animal or, sometimes, the lack of it. Developing a relationship with the person behind the animal helps him understand those perspectives and offer the kind of care that will align with their needs.
This clueing-in to the emotional component of veterinary medicine is an element to the job that Angell considers vitally important as well as often underemphasized.
“Unless you let it affect you on an emotional level, you’re not doing it right. You’ve got to have some sleepless nights, worrying about a case, or you’re not going to push yourself to become better quite as hard.”
Our day required little by way of difficult decisions —and on the estate farm, it was as clear as day that the property managers cared deeply for the animals in their charge. They worried after the right balance of feed to avoid bloat, mused on the personalities of the donkeys, and remarked on some of the humorous side effects of their job.
“Working with animals, you get used to a whole bouquet of smells you never thought you’d get used to. Knowing, ‘Oh, that’s not right!’ when you catch a hoof smelling a particular way.”
Church’s status as an early environmentalist was mentioned repeatedly during the conversation. Shin’s sculpture “Fallen,” which graced the lawn next to the estate’s main house during last year’s event, featured a fallen hemlock tree trunk planted by Church over 150 years earlier which had been wrapped in tanned leather. She described the work as a direct reference to Church’s experience witnessing the eradication of the area’s hemlocks as the leather tanning industry wreaked havoc on the natural environment of the Hudson Valley in the mid-19th century.
The relationship between art and the environment wasn’t isolated at Church’s former home. Instead, it seemed to be found all over UAW.
Now in its seventh year, UAW works to take the art world out of the city. At its best, the weekend gives artists and curators the opportunity to interact with unfamiliar environments. Just as often, however, it serves as a literal escape, allowing New York City galleries to bring works to pop-up spaces assembled for the express purpose of displaying fine art. The “Loading…” group show in Hudson did just this.
Transplanting six New York City galleries into an intimate event space, “Loading…” featured a wide variety of artists from around the globe. Sheroanawe Hakihiiwe, an Indigenous artist from Venezuela, takes ancient practices and translates his observations of the Amazon into minimalist works. Michael Assif’s “Plant a Weed” highlights the human impact on a natural landscape while feeling like a marshmallow dream. And Margaret Curtis’ “ ‘S ” uses the backdrop of a Hudson River School-style sunset to highlight the chaos of today’s state of the American dream.
The flip side of this art-world field trip is the variety of makeshift galleries in the garages and barns of the Hudson Valley. Places like Ugly Mud Studios and Ten Barn Farm, both in Ghent, along with Foxtrot Farm and Flowers in Stanfordville, housed unexpectedly refined exhibitions. These venues all integrate sustainable practices into their business: Foxtrot is a regenerative flower farm, Ugly Mud uses locally sourced clay, and Ten Barn Farm operates a farm-to-table restaurant called The Kitchen.
But at the end of the day, UAW is about getting the art world into the wild. So it was no surprise to see a panoply of eye-catching outfits, and out-of-this-world works at Art Omi, the sculpture and architecture park in Ghent, on Saturday evening. Complete with avant-garde ambient operatic metal, the Summer Kickoff event served as a testament to the continued growth of UAW. It seems the seeds that Toomer and her collaborators planted seven years ago are flourishing, with no signs of slowing down.
Andrew Ingall
Artist Christy Gast with her sculptures at Friday Arts in Amenia.
Benjamin Reynaert
His career began at Martha Stewart Living. A contributor to Architectural Digest, Elle Decor, House Beautiful and Veranda, Reynaert has also served as style director at Domino. He has worked with Farrow & Ball, Chairish, Neiman Marcus, Sunbrella, Anthropologie, Gap, Bunny Williams Home and Stella Artois. He shares his work on Instagram via @aspoonfulofbenjamin.
“I’ve been fortunate to travel the country and abroad for Elle Decor, covering design fairs and trade shows like Deco Off in Paris, London Design Week in England, Cersaie Tile Show in Bologna, Italy, High Point in North Carolina and the Kitchen and Bath Industry Show in Las Vegas,” he said. He is drawn to unique objects and textiles. “As a market editor, the pieces that stick with me are not the newest. They are the ones I stumble upon and imagine living with.”
Reynaert is also co-founder of Ticking Tent with Christina Juarez, president of Christina Juarez & Company. The biannual event has become a destination for collectors and designers seeking curated antiques and design objects.
“I met Ben about 15 years ago when he was a young design editor and I was early into my career as a design communications strategist having switched gears from the fashion world," Juarez said. “We immediately clicked. I was impressed by his multidisciplinary creative talents — styling, writing, vision and impeccable eye — and his passion for the thrill of the hunt. I could not ask for a better partner and friend — my brother from another mother — and a yin to my yang. Two creatively minded people with a love of old and new beautiful things, and the ability to curate what the luxury shopper doesn’t know they need and most definitely wants.”
Reynaert described the most recent Ticking Tent as the largest yet. “We hosted over 2,000 guests and transacted our most sales to date with 75 vendors,” he said. “The most exciting part is seeing friends and watching new connections being made. I’m excited for the next event, Nov. 13–14, in Bedford, N.Y.”
Butter Wakefield’s kitchen from“The Layered Home” by Benjamin Reynaert.Manuel Rodriguez
For Reynaert, objects are defined as much by narrative as by design. “An object is about the story — whether it’s passed down in your family, something you worked hard for, bought on a trip, or a friend gave you,” he said. “With that added narrative, it doesn’t need to be the most aesthetically pleasing thing. The memory attached makes it beautiful. I like the idea of simple, seemingly insignificant items having a ton of meaning. Treat a thrift store painting as you would a Picasso.”
Greg Domres and Peter Nichols’ residence in Litchfield, which they share with their miniature schnauzer, Bunny, is one of 15 homes featured in Reynaert’s book, “The Layered Home.” The couple hosted a book signing at George Home in Washington Depot. “I first met Ben at press events during my time at John Derian,” Domres said. “We became friends and stayed connected professionally over the years.”
The book spans interiors from Eric Goujou’s shop The Wolf Tile in Paris’ 5th arrondissement to textile designer Schuyler Samperton’s Litchfield farmhouse. “Sharing the stories of talented, stylish people I’ve met during my tenure in magazines has been a privilege,” Reynaert said. “The most inspiring interiors are layered — with personality, patina and the poetry of a life lived. This book is my love letter to that idea.”
Reynaert said he would like to travel to Japan and Australia and hopes to develop his own product line in the future. “Balancing work and life is a challenge,” he said. He spends downtime with his husband, Luis Illades, in Delaware, where they are renovating a Victorian home.
“I feel incredibly fortunate to blend my work and my life in the home I share,” he said. “Creating a home is, at its core, an act of love.”
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Mickalene Thomas and Delano Dunn at Wassaic Project.
Thomas, an artist whose multidisciplinary practice spans painting, collage and installation, first met Dunn when she was his graduate adviser at the School of Visual Arts. “I think your work needs to be out there more,” she said, noting the urgency of this collection in the current socio-political moment.
Dunn’s layered collages often begin with an image unearthed from flea markets, used bookstores and forgotten archives.
“I go to secondhand shops, old bookstores, any place that looks like it has history in it,” he said.
Sometimes, he explained, an image becomes the centerpiece of a work. Other times it simply sparks an idea.
“There’ll be an idea that pops into my head. I’ll read something or hear music or a lyric, and then I’ll think, ‘I’ve got to find an image that matches that.’”
His color palette also carries its own history.
“I grew up in L.A. during the L.A. riots,” Dunn said. “I would sit on my porch as a kid. I was watching the neighborhood burn, but the sky was beautiful.”
He still paints with those saturated blues, reds and oranges.
“Color can transport you. Color can make you feel safe, or happy or scared,” he said. “Those colors made me feel safe.”
For Dunn, Troutbeck’s own layered history became an active part of the work. Learning that the estate had hosted W.E.B. Du Bois, Langston Hughes, Ida B. Wells and generations of civil rights leaders informed his direction.
Dunn was given access to Troutbeck’s archives and found handwritten notes by Langston Hughes, and writings by Du Bois and Wells that found their way into the exhibition.
“There was a letter between Amy Spingarn and Martin Luther King Jr.,” Dunn recalled. “To be in its presence and hold it... you don’t see communication like that every day.”
Delano Dunn’s “Echoes in the Margin” at Troutbeck.Natalia Zukerman
Much of Dunn’s work invites viewers to dig deeper into history rather than accept simplified narratives.
“I want them to look at it and go, ‘Wow, this is really amazing and interesting and colorful and beautiful,’” he said. “And then I want them to be terrified shortly after that.” He accomplishes this through bold, colorful, and often playful compositions that draw the viewer in before revealing their more complex historical underpinnings. As Thomas wrote, “Dunn’s compositions invite viewers to sit within that tension and take it in.” That impulse toward deeper investigation extends to Dunn’s own children, who are often his first audience.
“They’ll ask, ‘What is this? Why does this person look the way they look? Why are you using that color? Why are you using glitter?’”
Those conversations, he said, become lessons in looking beyond appearances.
Thomas framed collage itself as a kind of storytelling practice —“the gathering of information… piecing things together”—and praised Dunn’s ability to translate research, memory and visual pleasure into a unified language. She also underscored the importance of creative joy in the process. “If you’re going to your studio and you’re not having fun,” she said, “you shouldn’t be doing it.”
Dunn said one of the biggest misconceptions he hopes to challenge is the idea that there is a monolithic Black experience.
“There are so many different perspectives out there. This is just one of them,” he said. In the same breath, Dunn said he adopts the label “Black artist” because “it would make my Grandpa proud.”
The nearly two-hour conversation shifted seamlessly between humor and history, studio practice and social commentary, ultimately returning to what both artists believe art can accomplish: encouraging curiosity, complicating familiar stories and inviting viewers to question what they see.
As Dunn put it, “History is so much more nuanced than what we’re taught. There’s so much more going on below the surface.”
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