Digest = me + a possible glass of wine + reflection the previous weeks ongoings and a glimpse into future happenings. You're Welcome.
A BIG HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY (MORE GROWN UP THAN ME) KID SISTER, HEIDI, WHO IS HOME TODAY RECOVERING FROM HER INCREDIBLE, SUCCESSFUL KIDNEY TRANSPLANT. THANK YOU TO EVERYONE FOR YOUR WELL WISHES OVER THE YEARS, HOPE PREVAILS.
Winter Light, Trying New Things & Choosing Love
I've been thinking a lot this week about what it means to try something new when it feels genuinely hard. I know, perfect timing for the festivities of the holiday season, right?! But if you've been following along on Instagram, you've seen me teaching myself how to show up live on Fridays over the past few weeks, imperfectly, nervously, sometimes awkwardly, and continuing anyway.
I'm often asked how I manage filming myself forward-facing, and the truth is this - doing something I believe will connect with others, even when it's uncomfortable, is more important than not showing up at all. My real trick? Hitting record and posting without review. But going live is different. When I'm recording, there's an escape hatch, I can choose not to post. Going live removes that safety net entirely. You're just... out there. How Lorne Michaels has found a revolving cast willing to do this for over 50 years is beyond me, but I'm hopeful I'll soon get past my nerves enough to find the real joy in it.
What started as a 10am experiment has evolved (yes, I've officially moved it to noon, largely due to strong feedback from my California friends who refuse to wake up early for art). What's surprised me most isn't how "good" or polished it's been, but how much more natural it feels each time I do it. And I love the storytelling I get to share about all the lovely things I’m highlighting in the gallery and beyond.
There's something fascinating to me about choosing to practice instead of waiting to feel ready. Friday night felt like the other side of that same coin. The opening of the Winter Light Auction was one of those evenings that reminded me exactly why I love gathering people around art, that shared hum of curiosity, conversation laced with seasonal spirit. It felt like what I wanted the room to embody, Winter Light itself. Celebratory without being loud, intentional without being precious, a room full of people connecting over a beautiful evening, intriguing art, and the possibility of something unknown unfolding.
There was also so much laughter. My dear friend Brendan Dyer at the podium, martini in hand, presiding over the auction with his signature wit, bantering with the audience and those joining online (we have an idea to correct the delay and make it more interactive next time, stay tuned!). It all felt like the perfect way to introduce this incredible auction.
If you haven't had a chance to look yet (you should—it's the biggest one yet!), I'm doing the online portion a little differently this time. You'll find the full auction saved as a highlight at the top of my Instagram profile. You can also find available items here and can bid by email or text 401-684-0211 if you want to skip socials. As pieces sell, I'm updating the highlight in real time, removing listings and marking works as sold so you can easily keep track through Tuesday when the auction ends at 8pm. I love how savage some of you have been, going right online and buying out from under a bidding war, it's certainly a sure-win strategy! In Instagram Stories, I'll be sharing more details, materials, and why certain pieces matter to me and why I brought them into the gallery… more storytelling by yours truly.
This weekend I continued with another new format I hope becomes a habit: The Archive, a weekly drop on my Forgotten Island Instagram featuring pieces from my own home I'm ready to part with and make available for their next lifetime. Think dinnerware sets ready for the next dinner party, books in need of new coffee tables, and objects meant to be loved once more. I've become enamored with the joy that Forgotten Island has become, both in my sourcing and in bringing new light to aging art and objects. The good news? You all love it too. You can see more here, and if it locks in for the new year, I'll make this official on my website with a link where you can check back often. In the meantime, check out the experience here.
With so much to be grateful for, warm and meaningful connections with all of you, with our friends and family, these last few weeks, our annual holiday party this coming weekend, it's hard to digest the devastating details of a mass shooting in our community here in Rhode Island. One of my first apartments was only two blocks from where it happened, a place I have always felt to be the top example of a safe neighborhood. This is beyond too close to home. I feel immense loss for people I never knew, but I think that's the exact point of terrorism, to remove our innate sense of security in the places we know and love, to take enough from us that it truly resonates as tragic.
Our country is long overdue for gun reform. But equally, in a time when our world can feel so lonely and divisive, I believe we can make a difference. I believe in the butterfly effect, the ripple effect of kindness. A warm smile to a stranger, an impromptu coffee chat with a loved one or old friend, checking in and sharing happiness as a way of life. It makes a difference.
This season asks us to hold both grief and gratitude, to move through fear and keep showing up anyway. To try new things even when they're hard. To gather around beauty and each other. To choose love, again and again, even when, especially when, the world feels uncertain.
That's what Winter Light means to me. Not the absence of darkness, but the decision to shine anyway.
With love and hope from the gallery,
Kristen