Comfort in Imperfection
Deer Friends,
Hello again! I hope you enjoyed the first newsletter last week, including the print release, inspo picks, and art feature. I’ve got some more treats for you this week! Once again the print release for this week is from a painting I made a while back, but available now as a print. Stay tuned for something a little different next week: new artwork available as prints, and maybe tote bags as well;-). Last week I got to finish the heavy lifting that came with setting the foundations for a website, blog, and brand, and this week I got to just make art. And for someone that thinks and talks about art more than anything else, I wasn’t really making anything for a while there. So having the time and space to do that felt really nice. It gave me a chance to slow down and appreciate the work I’ve put into this. The first piece in this new line of the new work will be released next Thursday! In the meantime, please enjoy this week’s print release: an ode to my slo town.
Here’s the latest print:
Psychedelic Hills
Acrylic on Paper, 2022
I lived in San Luis Obispo for five years. Four while I was in college, and then for an extra year after that. There were a few reasons I stayed in SLO for that last year. One of which was that in the evening, when the sun was setting, the hills seemed to glow. The golden light would spill across the rolling hills, and the colors would intensify as the sun sank lower. The clouds overhead would take on a radiant orange glow, then slowly fade to pink, then purple, then deep blue. These moments watching the sun set always felt meaningful. I still think about them often.
When I was leaving SLO I wanted a way to memorialize not only my time there, but also these fleeting moments. Photos couldn’t capture the sunsets the way I was seeing them, so I turned to paint. I don’t paint often, and hadn’t touched acrylic paint in years, so it was a bit of a meditative practice remembering how to connect to the process.
I was deep in the process of moving already when I started painting. I didn’t have a desk in my room so I took over the table in the living room I shared with two other girls. I bounced back and forth between painting and packing, painting and packing. I finished it a day or so before I left. That felt meaningful too. This piece sat above my fireplace in San Francisco for a little over a year. And now that I’ve moved once again (just can’t seem to stay in one place very long) it now sits in my new home and serves not only as a reminder of San Luis Obispo, but of the magical little moments in life, both big and small.
On to the next…
I refuse to believe we’re nearing the end of summer, because I truly feel like it just started. So in the roundup this week are all things that remind me of summer. Because to say it’s my favorite season is an understatement.
I love everything about the summer. I think I’m drawn to the messiness of it all. The heat and humidity, sandy hair, blistered heels, and tender skin from a sunburn. Early mornings, ripe fruit, trickles of sweat down my back while I’m sitting at the table, and a sense of peace that I can’t seem to hold onto in colder months. I love that I see yellow and green and blue everywhere I look. And wildflowers and growth and hope. The air is dense and the sun is hot and I feel so alive. I love the mess, the imperfections, the beauty. I’ve gathered together some photos that represent that same kind of feeling.
Tiles with imperfect edges and inconsistent shades feel so much more comforting than stark white. Flowers and plants that grow wildly are a sweeter gesture than a uniform bouquet. Clothes made of thick knits and softly textured fabrics feel more comfortable than synthetic textiles. Fruit that’s freshly cut, dishes that feel like a hodge-podge of everything you’re craving, and desserts that are perfectly messy are the small things that bring me so much joy.
This week’s inspo:
This week I’m highlighting:
Tomomi Kamoshita
Tokyo-based potter
Relating to my earlier musings on finding comfort and joy in imperfection, the work of Tokyo-based potter, Tomomi Kamoshita, does just that. Kamoshita is skilled in the craft of Kintsugi, which is a traditional Japanese repairing technique that uses gold to bind together broken ceramic pieces, highlighting the imperfections instead of attempting to mask them. Using this technique, she collects broken pieces of ceramics that she finds along the shore and turns them into unique chopstick and fork rests. Each piece is one of a kind and tells a story of revival. These pieces were displayed in a group exhibition “Contemporary Talents of Japan” in 2016 at the Ronin Gallery in New York.
The rest of her work can be found here.
Quick little announcement before we wrap this up. This is an open call for artists to be featured in next week’s newsletter! If you are an artist looking to share your work and participate in building a creative community, please email me a few examples of your work and a brief bio and artists statement (3-4 sentences). Every medium is welcome!
Until next week,
Morgan