On an antiquing trip that didnt go according to plan, I was still able to find something in the hunt: a bowl
Read MoreThere are certain evenings that do not feel like they are happening in real time. They feel arranged. Suspended. As if every object, scent, sound, and gesture has been placed inside a small spell.
Read MoreI think that’s what I’ve been chasing lately.
Juxtapositions that shouldn’t make sense but somehow become balanced. Smoke and flowers. Brutalism and softness. Silver and dirt. A backyard becoming a gallery for one evening.
Read MoreAnd as a kid, that just made sense to me.
Easter bunny… rabbit… dinner.
No questions asked.
Last night, my brother Nikko and I slipped into Heirloom at Comstock Ferre just as the evening settled in — around six, that soft hour when daylight is thinning but the room hasn’t fully turned to night.
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