SUMMER
EDITON
2026
VIEW FROM THE DESKTOP
Where do we go from here?
I am sitting at my desk, watching the usual afternoon gray wash over the rolling hills of this lovely place that I call home. This is not a moment of sadness; the tranquility is sublime, truly. A little space heater hums behind me, inching the temperature up one degree at a time. The leaves of a fresh plant that my beloved gave to me gently shake in time with my keystrokes. My new sit spot is perfectly in view: just outside the double doors that act as the windows of my office. This is a good place and a perfect moment.
However, behind the digital window that I am typing on, is an open browser with one tab dedicated to the only social platform that I regularly use. Simmering in the background like the constant smoke of an unending fire, begging me to add my log to the billions of burning embers. We choke on the fumes, intoxicated by the humming crowds. We look away; we walk away; we swear we will spend less time there, but dopamine and curiosity are cruel masters. When they work in tandem, we, the sensitive and the creative, find their alluring purr almost irresistible. Like all addictions, we find a reason to need it. Some succeed on these platforms, so the rest of us hold on to the belief that we can, we must, try to do the same.
I know we all have cracks where the poison seeps in. For some of us, it manifests in the need to connect. We believe that reaching into the fire will help to fill the empty spaces. But soot and ash are often the reward. A few bright spots, but otherwise a darkness that repels and yet controls.
For others of us, the constant influx of influence makes it hard to know who we are, what we want, what we do, how to be. We step away and some of these unknowns start to manifest, but those precious discoveries are soon forgotten with the next hit of the feed.
The internet and social media have opened our eyes to a world of souls like our own. It has created a longing for a place of belonging and there have been some rewards. But for highly sensitive people, we know better. We know that these types of connections are just languishing wisps of cotton candy; whipped with air, momentarily satisfying, leaving a bigger hole when it dissipates. If this revelation feels like a sting, let it pass until the truth remains. You know it and you feel it.
I am a man of many dreams; many loves. Too many vision quests and mental treasure chests. I want to make food with my hands that nourishes the body and leaves it feeling whole, healthy, and satisfied. I do not want to cause harm to any being. This is who I am. I want to appreciate and enjoy art, ceramics and music, the kind that lingers on you like lavender and turmeric. Good stains. I want less open tabs, more open books, ripe fruit, sweet stings of guitar and violins. Tender hands in my head, tender hearts in my little world.
I want to not know the darkness that a lack of empathy creates. I want a little blue, a gentle mist of gray, a caravan of slowly moving bovine, sheep with no other life but fields of grass. The twine of kindness to hold my pieces together without protest or resistance. Slow mornings, steady days, quiet nights. The curl of incense, the patter of rain, the music of birds, the swaying of trees. Big mugs of calm, small bowls of balm, wide plates of gentleness and rest.
This is where I want to go. This is where I want to be. Quiet spaces that matter and mean more than the noise outside. One day the sun will shine like a radiant clarion, becoming the children of man to rest and joy. Until then, we the seekers of light must shine a gentle glow, saving energy for tomorrow, leaving something to share.
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VIEW FROM THE DESKTOP
Gentle musings from the editor and chief creative person.
One troubling thing about social media, in my opinion, is that it makes you a watcher. We've been lead to believe that inspiration comes from the addictive collecting of ideas from others through a constant feed of visual input.
This con is the practice of companies invested in keeping you plugged in and locked out of your own inner world. However, the best ideas are often born from solitude, sanguine moments of self-reflection in times of personal sorrow, and serendipitous surprises. The finished products you see on the waterfall of images does not tell the full story. Quite frankly, for me, the stories don't matter until I hold something tangible in my hands.
For instance, I've dreamed of owning a piece of pottery from Florian Gadsby, but I'm never fast enough to get a piece, but I did get a signed copy of his book and that act alone has made me appreciate his work.
Storytellers like Florian can be the historians of their own lives. Artists and craftspeople take elements of their personal history and transform them into objects that stand as monuments of their story.
When I take care of that piece of crafted good, it is alive to me, history captured in time and attention. How generous that these talented folks share a bit of themselves with strangers.
If you do feel the need to gather visual inspiration, I encourage you to move away from the public models and aim for private spaces like mymind. Mood boards have been vital for artists as a means of pulling together elements that feed that gnawing fire to create.
mymind is yours alone, unshared and unseen. I started pulling images from the websites that I visit and it has been enlightening to see a theme emerge. I used the colors and hues I've gathered to reinvent my personal design story and to clarify my creative identity.
I am not a brand, I am Brett. There is a difference. One is human and the other is the death of self, commodified and limited.
Want to share your thoughts? Connect with me in The Inner Circle. You can find the archives for The Desktop posts here.
When I take care of that piece of crafted good, it is alive to me, history captured in time and attention. How generous that these talented folks share a bit of themselves with strangers.