His grass is neatly cut. His cat appears content. He's kind to old people.
He even makes up silly stories to entertain his wife and two little girls.
But his underwear stands up by itself.
That's right.
All by itself.
Once, 13 years ago, Silbert wound up with a package of the wrong-sized briefs.
The error, in retrospect, seems a little like the butterfly in Brazil that would trigger a tornado in Texas.
Silbert, a graphic artist and set designer, unleashed his creative energy on cotton. He bought more and more pairs of underwear and experimented until he saw something he liked. He took a 10-year break to get married and have kids, then returned to the fruits of his loom.
From the chaos came underwear vases. They went on sale at Artsiphartsi in Tampa this week, starting at $175, joining similar displays at Twisted Sisters in Clearwater and American Stage in St. Petersburg. There are plans for a Sept. 19 show at Viva La Frida Cafe-Galeria.
Underwear, as objets d'art.
Silbert beams.
"I'm actually getting to do what I was meant to do," he says.
He starts with brand-new garments, working behind his family's ranch home north of Lake Carroll in Tampa. He rounds the waist bands, stretches cloth into elegant shapes and freezes the moment with plaster.
"It really came from my interest in taking common, everyday objects and distorting them or reshaping and bringing them up to a level where you notice what they look like," says the man who once decorated his bathroom with hurricane clips and screws.
"It's not my original idea; it's what artists before me for a hundred years have done."
He guards his technique, knowing that others might jockey to steal wUnderpants, as he calls them.
At first, he shyly disguised the seams.
Now, they are badges of honor.
"I am telling people in advance that they're underpants."
He's married to Wendy Leigh, founder of the Loft Theater and former artistic director at the Off Center Theater. She's now a freelance director and mom.
They fell in love 12 years ago, after he took Wendy to Wendy's. He bought her a kid's meal that came with a pig snout straw, and she took him, underwear and all.
He decorates their lives with imagination, drawing from the spoils of salvage shops. He tells daughters Gillian, 4, and Emma, 7, to expect llama for dinner, llama with toad liver over slices of ostrich. "I like to chop broccoli and imagine myself a giant lumberjack in a tiny, little forest," he says, lyrically.
The underwear?
"It was something I brought into the marriage."
His favorite pieces have matted, distressed exteriors with shiny, contrasting interiors that remind him of worn handrails in old buildings. Shards of glass cling to a few of the rims, reminiscent of Merida rooftops.
The smallest are made from boy's size 8; the largest, from men's 38.
"Upon first glance, you don't realize it's men's underwear," says Artsiphartsi owner Carmen Smith, who calls the vases "playful" and "whimsical."
"Provided it's not used underwear, we are happy to carry them."
Silbert thinks about his future.Underwear lamps, maybe.
Or perhaps that big idea he won't discuss, the brainstorm unrelated to underwear.
"Mis-s-ster Secret," he calls himself.
People ask if he will ever do anything with boxers.
He seems incredulous at the suggestion.
"A totally different medium."
- Tampa's Kennedy Boulevard was once called Grand Central. Now Grand Central is the name of a weekly column by Times senior editor Patty Ryan. Reach Patty Ryan at 226-3382 or pryan@sptimes.com
