We find ourselves at this collective crossroad as the nightmare of the global pandemic persists but hope for the future is impossible to ignore. Our trauma has been both individual and shared, subtle and profound, fleeting and forever. Our lessons are blurry at best.
I'm hesitant (or embarrassed?) to admit that this forced hiatus was a necessary one. Not for clarity, because clarity has proven itself an illusion. Not for rejuvenation, because let's be honest, we're exhausted. Not for justice, because every tiny step forward has been followed by crushing blows back.
My lessons aren't your lessons, nor are my emotions, frustrations, dreams. My appreciation, however, is for you all. While crawling out of the rubble of 2020 and checking myself for breaks, I have never felt more thankful for the support, the kindness, the community around Colony. Thank you for seeing us, even in this hazy, exhausting and devastating time.
There's a moment in each day, when we're neither asleep nor awake, when the drama of our dreams fizzle into mist, and when the reality of the morning has yet to settle.
This familiar haze, dimly lit by a hopeful morning glow, offers us unexpected clarity in its temporary version of contentment -- free of expectations but full of the purest form of hope: undefined possibilities.
We walk into the day with restrained reverie, and hope you will join us.
Precipice in Denali by Flat Vernacular
Found II Side Table No. 3 by A Space
Shy Sconce by Bec Brittain
Tripod Floor Lamp by KWH Furniture
Nocturne Credenza 2 by Vonnegut/Kraft
Helix Hanging by Bec Brittain
Pojagi Drapes by Meg Callahan
Ame Natural by Studio Paolo Ferrari
EAE Lounge Chair by Erickson Aesthetics
40 Bleecker by Colony
Instructions on Not Giving Up
Ada Limón - 1976-
of the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor’s
almost obscene display of cherry limbs shoving
their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate
sky of Spring rains, it’s the greening of the trees
that really gets to me. When all the shock of white
and taffy, the world’s baubles and trinkets, leave
the pavement strewn with the confetti of aftermath,
the leaves come. Patient, plodding, a green skin
growing over whatever winter did to us, a return
to the strange idea of continuous living despite
the mess of us, the hurt, the empty. Fine then,
I’ll take it, the tree seems to say, a new slick leaf
unfurling like a fist to an open palm, I’ll take it all.
Kiroitori by Hiroko Takeda
Wormhole Table by Erickson Aesthetics
Split Leg Layered Low Table by Studio Paolo Ferrari
Karla Quilt by Meg Callahan
Standing Mirror by KWH
FKA Themis Pendant by Bec Brittain
Found Side Table No.1 by A Space
Alabaster Mini Orb by Allied Maker
Project: Callicoon by General Assembly
Photography: Matthew Williams