A Life in Motion

Change shows up unannounced —

and never asks permission to reshape us.

The birth of a child.

A job lost or left.

A love that opens everything.

A diagnosis.

None of us walks through life untouched.

Shifts are underway in my world —

Amélie preparing to leave for Iceland,

Oliver evolving in his own creative rhythm in New York.

The shape of our family is in motion.

I turn to design —

not as a way to preserve the past,

but to move with the present.

For fifteen years, we’ve been a constellation of three.

After their father died in 2010,

gravity rearranged itself.

I became the center of a smaller orbit —

mother, guide, constant.

A new season is taking form —

shaped by distance,

and by something still emerging.

This is how I design;

not despite life, but through it.

Design isn't surface.

It’s distillation —

of meaning, of what matters.

At first, I couldn’t translate this moment.

The personal is complex —  

difficult to hold, harder to shape.

What emerged was inspired by kintsugi —

the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold.

The cracks aren’t hidden, but highlighted.

They become part of the object’s beauty and story.

The process isn’t nostalgia.

It’s a meditation —on what’s been

and the wisdom earned along the way.

I don’t yet know what this design will become.

A mark, a moment,

or simply a shape that invites pause

so the viewer might enter. 

It illuminates metamorphosis

and reminds me

design holds the human experience —

without needing to solve it.

✦

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Pass this on to someone who walks the world a bit like you do.