harmony
Some things need time before they tell you what they want to become. They sit on the desk, collect on a shelf, travel home in a pocket—sometimes for days, sometimes for years—until something in the material, the relationship, or even the accident begins to speak.
Harmony is what happens when you pay attention long enough to hear it. Tangled silver becomes a knot. Stones gathered over a lifetime become something to wear. Two tattoos become a pair rather than copies. The medium changes, but the practice doesn't: work with what is already there and leave enough room for possibility to emerge.
Linger longer. The best things reveal themselves.
BFFs Queenie and Chica wanted matching dandelion tattoos—a story told separately, complete together.
Stones collected for years along the shores of Lake Michigan, waiting for someone to see what they could become.
The tile was never meant to fill the wall. Its edge found its own way.
Nothing here was arranged.
Everything found its place.