colour field

June 9, 2022

Indivi Sutton‘s large scale washes of pure and mellow colour remind me of an aura photograph. They have that same ethereal and otherworldly feel. “Emotions and memories are the language of my paintings,” says the Sydney-based painter. Through a process of layering natural pigment powders on raw linen, Sutton achieves beautiful shades of colour that travel softly across her canvas. “Each piece connects to a moment in time, and what I hope for is that the audience will connect with that emotion and stand there with me, in their own memory,” she says.

around and around

June 8, 2022

Mohamed Ahmed Ibrahim’s colourful Robots.

Gertrud and Otto Natzler’s magnificent glazes.

Mackerel, green sauce and preserved lemons.

The summer shoe that gets better with wear.

Elsworth Kelly’s temple of light.

just my imagination

June 8, 2022

You’ve got to be bold and daring, with a great sense of humour, to live in a kitchen like this one. The entire apartment, home of Sisley’s Christine d’Ornano, is an ode to whimsy and play. Kaori Tatebayashi’s porcelain flowers adorn a wall in the guest room, and teal velvet chairs surround an Angelo Mangiarotti double-pedestal table in the dining room. There’s colour, there’s verve; there’s serious art. Back to the kitchen; It’s the pop art floor that I love, and how it mixes with that decadent marble and all the colourful tchotchke.

hand in hand

June 6, 2022

As a potter, it is a pleasure and privilege to buy another potter’s work. I know firsthand how laborious working with clay is. I also know how hard is it to quantify originality, imagination, and the many failed pieces that pave the way for the successful ones. Machines have become so damn good at emulating human hands that $50 mugs are hard to justify. Until you’ve held one. Sipped hot ginger tea out of one. Until you’ve amassed a collection of them, purchased over time, each one with its own distinct personality and story. I came across Caitlin O’Reilly faceted mugs in emerald today and I love them. Her mini dishes are tactile and warm, too. I walked away with a large bowl glazed in a deep, dark oxidized green that reminded me of an ocean pool. Now, what to fill it with? Shells? Lemons? Or nothing at all?

that’s all folks

June 3, 2022

I really like Jane Ormes‘ use of pattern and colour. Her folk art inspired bowls could have belonged to your Great Aunt Astrilde, if Great Aunt Astrilde had superb taste. Her drawings are equally whimsical. I’m no fan of pigeons, but I do love this one. Have a scroll through her work. It’ll amuse and delight you.

flower power

June 3, 2022

Amy Brnger‘s flowers are loose and painterly, and just what I wanted to find at the end of a long week. Some are so loose that they barely even look like flowers. Her Grape Hyacinths, Forget-Me-Nots and her Daffodils are my favourites. Light, fresh, vivid colours –– I could easily snap up a collection of them.


June 1, 2022

It’s peony season, and peony season signals my annual pilgrimage(s) to the corner of Sussex and Brunswick where peonies bloom in abundance. Last year, I arrived too late, and the flowers were already splayed wide open, and some were even taking their last breaths. They’re just as beautiful in that state, but I do like to watch them transitioning from introvert to extrovert, and from fresh and perky to aged and listless. Which is why I visit several times over several days. Between June 1st and June 7th, my phone is filled with pictures of peonies. Beyond being beautiful, they’re also emblematic of the passage of time. As I scroll back, among the various shades of pink petals, I see fresh-out-of-the-kiln pots, my children’s toothless smiles, selfies, screenshots and outings to the lake that feel both like yesterday and a lifetime ago.


May 31, 2022

Possibility –– it’s one of my favourite words. Derived from the Latin, possibilis, “able to be done,” possibility walks hand-in-hand with hope, potential, and the idea that there is always room for something else to emerge, something different, unexpected and exciting. It’s how I feel about sunsets, sandcastles and Spring. It’s how I feel about white walls and lumps of raw clay. It’s how I feel when I come home from a holiday, or when two colours merge to create a new one. I have a ring –– my most treasured ring –– that is a small and brilliant diamond, secured within a bezel and surrounded by a moat of gold. The design is utterly simple, and while I love it as it is, I sometimes imagine tiny diamonds floating in the “moat”, or one day filling it with cerulean enamel. I love that the negative space around the stone leaves room for possibility. Much harder for any of us to accept is that alongside the beauty of possibility comes the terror of it. And that even though we know that possibility as a concept is free and fluid and unwritten, and that we have little to no control over its movement, we still shut ourselves off from the possibility of that which we fear. To embrace possibility is to embrace every facet of a multifaceted thing. Even the surfaces that the light does not touch. And hope that, “able to be done,” means that we will survive –– and maybe even thrive –– for having held it.

around and around

May 30, 2022

Textiles in vivid colours by Harriet Chapman.

Lilacs in green glass.

A pool with Italian tiles.

Scalloped skirts.

Pool party à la Slim Aarons.

Drawings of whales in the log of the ship Indian Chief kept by Thomas R. Bloomfield (1842–1844). Source Public Domain Review.


May 26, 2022

Ballerina meets librarian –– such is the small, low bun. It’s where I’ll be for a while until my hair is long enough to wear it in a top knot again. I liked the bob, I really did. It gave me the change I yearned for. I used my hair dryer so much it blew a fuse. I bought mousse. And diamante bobby pins. I considered different necklines. It was fun. Like a sojourn in the French countryside. And now I’m ready to come home.

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