The world of interiors and hospitality tells a story of motion, a constant sprint toward the next look, the next motif, the next social proof. Trend over deliberation, popularity over presence, acquisition over affinity. Buy it because other people have it! I find that rhythm shallow. Stubbornly, I believe the opposite: choose your artwork like companions, choose your wall-art slowly, choose it because it grounds you, choose it because you love it.
Choose it because it will sit with you through the years.
The industry myth, and what it costs
Design briefs are often written in the language of scarcity and speed, the ticking clock of launches and Instagram moments. When art becomes a commodity to tick a box, it loses its capacity to hold you. The immediate cost is visible, a room that looks timely but feels bare. The deeper cost is quieter: a gradual erosion of your sanctuary, a steady accumulation of objects that do not reflect who you are, only what you once wanted to signal to the world.
When you choose alongside trends, you inherit someone else’s opinion. You become the temporary stage for a passing idea, not the curator of an intimate atmosphere. That might be bearable for a moment, it certainly isn't for a lifetime.
Where deliberation changes the game
Deliberation has an economy on its own. It demands patience, and in return it yields resonance. A deliberately chosen piece is not decoration, it is companionship. Such pieces become portals. They slow breathing, tilt attention toward the here and now, and invite reflection.
This is where I want my work to sit, in the intersection between belonging and invitation. I create abstract nature photographs that invite you to become still and listen. The language is black and white, nature's texture and silence. Leaves, ripples and shadows. Distilled until only the essential hum remains.
The result is not a trend, it is a long conversation.
What I bring, and why it matters
You might reasonably ask, why should you listen to me, why trust one more voice in a crowded field? The answer has three parts, each practical and personal.
First, I walk the talk. My visual language is anchored in Shibui, intentionally pared back and refined. That is not affectation, it is not only a concept of aesthetic but also a discipline. It is visible in every contact print, in the choice of paper, in the way an image is framed and placed so that it breathes with the room.
Craft matters, because permanence begins with careful making.
Second, I curate the experience. Neither buying my existing art nor commissioning a bespoke piece is an exercise in risk. It is proven path. Our journey begins with listening.
You share what the space means to you, how you want people to feel when they enter. I translate those intentions into visual proposals, art chosen for its resonance with your materials, light, and intention. Once the final piece is selected, I oversee the printing process with my trusted craftspeople, ensuring the result is everything you wish for. That stewardship is as important as the image itself.
Third, I take a rigorous approach to bespoke creations. My corporate years taught me the value of clarity, of contracts, of timelines that respect excellence and anticipation. Those skills allow me to offer a done for you service to private collectors, boutique hotels, and retreats, where the art is integrated into a broader experience of hospitality and care.
Excellence is not only aesthetic, it is organizational, and that reduces the anxiety of commissioning original work.
The transformation I invite
Imagine arriving at a hotel suite or an office reception where a single artwork feels like an exhale. Imagine a lobby that does not demand attention, but receives it. Imagine a private home, where the artwork provides a counterpoint to the pace of modern life, transforming a wall into a moment of pause. Imagine clinics and wellness environments, ,where guests are guided toward stillness without being told to slow down. Imagine how artwork in yoga and meditation studios holds the energy of presence, becoming part of the practice itself.
That is the outcome of choosing deliberately. Your space becomes a mirror for deeper qualities, a place that supports rest, thought, and good decision making.
Contrast that with the alternative, a space assembled by impulse, full of disconnected pieces that do not speak to one another. There is an exhaustion to attention scattered in this way.
A soft invitation
If you are a curator of experience, a collector who prefers resonance over rhetoric, consider the stillest choice. What would it mean to select fewer companions for your walls, and choose those companions with intention? If you would like to explore how stillness might live in a particular room, the conversation begins with intend. Not with what's trending.
Warmly,
Petsy