In this lovely short film, we watch Annemarie O’Sullivan cut down rods of willow and turn them into baskets. O’Sullivan pays homage to her craft’s roots by infusing ancient techniques into contemporary designs. “When I made a willow basket –– that very first evening –– I went to bed and was dreaming of the willow, moving in arches and tight turns. It reminded me of how I feel when I swim, which is the same kind of movement. It’s a really lovely fluid feeling, one I experience deep in my body.” O’Sullivan’s studio is in the South East of England where she grows and harvests local materials to make pieces ranging from functional bowls and linen baskets to large scale woven sculptures. “Our work is shaped by a strong design sensibility and a desire to live lightly on the land.”

Sunsets, like first snowfalls, and newborn babies, never seize to amaze us, no matter how many times we see them. I owe my love of sunsets to my Dad, who observes them with a reverence that is nothing short of holy. When I came across Tacita Dean’s The Green Ray this morning, I thought of the hundreds of sunsets we’ve watched together. I thought about the beach on Ana Maria Island, where a little over a year ago, under a sky of uncertainty, my family and I watched a giant, golden orb melt into the ocean. It’s the last time I can remember watching the full passage of the sun as it descends from the sky into the water. The green ray is a rarely-seen visual phenomenon, where the slowest setting ray of sun passes over the horizon and turns green. Too ‘elusive for the digital world,” Dean captures the moment by analogue recording. The passing of time, and light, are both central to her work. “Digital is so known, and film is all about the unknown,” says Dean of her choice to record on 16 mm film. If you have a moment today, watch The Green Ray. It’s quite exquisite. “Looking for the green ray became about the act of looking itself, about faith and belief in what you see.”

I emptied my wallet today for the first time in well over a year and I felt like I was sifting through another woman’s things. A receipt for cornbread, steamed greens and a ginger tea at Fresh reminded me of another life, one where I lunched alone after making pots and swimming laps, a quiet pit stop before launching into pickups and programs. Beck Taxi. Dinner at Brother’s. A bright green coat check ticket from the Windsor Arms Hotel. I found my JCC entrance card and a black and white stamp with the Queen on it. The Queen, she still makes sense. And my bank cards. And a Brunello Cucinelli pencil. That also makes sense, even if it’s poncy. And a passage on Cerulean Blue from The Secret Lives of Colour. So much has changed, and much remains the same.

I have a bit of a thing for decorative throw cushions. I’ve amassed about twenty of them that I rotate every few months when I think a room needs a revamp. Some of them, I’ve had for 15-years or so. I try and buy good ones that last. This week, I’ve got my eye on a couple of velvet cushions from Aussie company, Sage & Clare. I like this woven one, too, and I go soft for anything with tassels. The fabrics are colourful and zany, two things I’m very fond of. And they’d spruce up any old sofa in a second.