what we carry
and the things we leave behind
Over the years, I’ve learned how to carry a life in a suitcase.
To choose what matters.
To leave things behind.
There are always a few things I keep close—
a stone in my pocket
something small, solid, grounding
no matter where I land.
And without fully realizing it…
I was carrying an idea too.
Sometimes it’s hard to pinpoint the beginning of a significant shift in life.
But I can clearly recall when something first stirred.
We were building a cabin on forested land high in the mountains of central Washington State.
No electricity. No running water.
Everything done by hand.
Somewhere between scraping bark from trees and hoisting cabin beams, I knew:
this would be a place to make art—
and one day, to invite others in.
I didn’t know it then, but that way of working—
learning as I went, trusting what was emerging—
would become a pattern I’d return to again and again.
That dream traveled with us.
We left the security of our teaching jobs and moved overseas—first to Kazakhstan, then to Italy, where we lived for 21 years.
We didn’t know what the path would look like.
Only that staying curious mattered more
than staying certain.
In Italy, my friend Amy—also an artist—and I often spoke of studios.
We kept returning to the same idea:
the table
the making space
the center
How could we do it? We weren’t sure.
“It’ll come,” we said.
So we played with the idea—
and let it quietly take root.
it didn’t look like much at first.
Not something I would have pointed to and said, this matters.
It was easy to let it fade into the background—
to treat it like something too far-fetched, too impractical, too easy to set aside.
You might have something like that too.
Something you’ve been carrying without fully acknowledging.
Something that hasn’t asked for much… except not to be forgotten.
The winds of change came, and we moved to Portugal.
When we found our small, rustic home in the Algarve,
we knew it was right—a new chapter, rich with adventure and stories.
Where to start—we hardly thought about it.
The land was tangled with weeds, scattered with rusted tools, broken cement, clay-encrusted sardine cans… even a once-white bra buried beneath the rubble.
And slowly, as the work took shape, something else did too.
Sometimes dreams arrive after upheaval.
Sometimes they return, again and again, asking for your attention.
When they do, it’s worth listening.
Adventure, novelty, and surprise have a way of meeting us once we begin.
how it came to life →
This studio grew from a belief that making and reflecting belong together.
If you are someone who likes to pause, notice,
dream, and sit with what’s taking shape—
there’s a place at the table for you.
Looking back, I can see it clearly now—
this idea I carried from place to place, without fully naming it.
It shaped more than I realized.
It asked for more than I was ready to give.
And eventually… I chose to stop setting it aside.
Maybe you’re carrying something like that too.
Not loud. Not fully formed.
But steady. Persistent. Yours.
Something that has traveled with you longer than you expected.
Maybe it’s time to take it out.
Hold it in your hands.
And see what it’s been waiting to become.
What are you carrying?
from the studio notebook
