I’ve always felt a peculiar awareness of the world around me. Growing up in the rural South as the daughter of a minister, I explored the world through the lens of an artist. I grew up on a small 5-acre farm with access to endless exploration and use of my imagination. These frequent explorations sharpened my eye to color, texture and the beauty found in nature. I learned to love animals, old trees, and the way light flickers through grassy fields.
Another fond and impactful memory of growing up was forged one summer when my mother turned off the cable and announced that my siblings and I would have to find our entertainment at the library, which was walking distance from our home. Learning about the outside world — beyond our little town — from books would shape my identity even in adulthood.
As I reflect on those early years, it was most certainly the combination of my faith, nature, and those long hours spent at the library that created the artist that I am today.
PHOT BY KAYLA MENDEZ.
In high school, I found my safe haven in the art room. My art teacher, Mrs. Bramlett, kindly let me join the older students in their advanced art studies. I spent time doing pottery, painting, and sketching portraits — whatever my hands could grasp, I was eager to learn its language. As my studies and love for art increased, I got the news that my beloved teacher Mrs. Bramlett was retiring. I did not find the same connection with our new art teacher and, upon graduation, decided to part ways with my love for art to pursue something more practical. I was also ready to leave my small hometown and explore a larger area that would fit with my chosen college major, which was resort and hospitality management. South Florida became the most appealing prospect, and I left the peace and calm of farm life to discover my new adult self in this new adventure.
My journey back to art would include several triumphs and failures, and a lot of uncertainty. While the hospitality world was exciting and new, my heart often called me back to using my hands. I think the breaking point came after having my first child and deciding to become a stay-at-home mom. I remember being overjoyed, but also lonely in the day-to-day acts of being home. While I loved my beautiful children, there was something that began to grow in me that I felt I needed to express. I began to paint and draw and do pottery again, which felt fulfilling, but I also knew that there was something more.
I recall the first table that I decided to purchase for resale. It was especially unique with its curves and texture. I convinced my husband to drive the two hours to get it and I promised him that I would sell it. At the time, my husband was the only one working, so every move had to be thoughtfully agreed upon. To my delight, the table sold and spurred on my new determination to become a furniture seller. One buyer in particular, a vintage dealer from Atlanta, opened my eyes to the world of vintage resale in a way that completely changed me.
I decided to start an Instagram account to display my beautiful finds. I wanted to tell the story of these items that were often handmade and bespoke, but usually stored and forgotten. They spoke to me in a way that would often bring me to the point of being emotional; a sculptural chair with an incredible finish or a wonky-shaped lamp that looked like a trumpet. I began reaching into my database of imagination and words to infuse life into these pieces as well as harnessing the things I learned in those early days on the farm about light and form.
As my Instagram account following grew, so did my bravery in storytelling. I wanted to add elements of my culture and my faith into the dynamic and I did just that. I also wanted to experiment with a certain styling direction, which included a specific color palette, lighting, and storyline.
I wanted to talk about the “folk” of the rural South. The richness of heritage in people like my grandparents and other artists of the African diaspora, such as Toni Morrison, the Gee’s Bend quilters, and Bill Traylor. I now spoke on my Instagram not only as a seller but as an artist because I saw parallels in these stories in the beautiful furniture I was curating. I wanted my furniture and curating practice to be an experience for the viewer and buyer. It was very important for me to connect with my audience in a way that triggered an emotional response because, after all, I believe this is the purpose of art.
Most recently, I was excited to collaborate with Hudson Valley Lighting Group to tell my folk stories in the form of lighting. This experience brought everything I knew about art up until this point to the forefront, from sketching the products to choosing the final finishes. My collection Folk and Flora embodies the stories, history and artistry that tell my authentic story, and is to date my fondest project.
It is now my goal and aspiration to further my reach through design in the furniture world. I would love to collaborate with more brands in the interior space, doing things such as rugs, textile design and other furniture products. If I could offer any advice to artists, I would say that it’s important to have an authentic voice that makes you stand out from the crowd.
In the past, I often felt embarrassed about growing up on a farm and I thought that I would be perceived as simple or not sophisticated in my perspective. I now proudly claim this rich heritage because the soulfulness of my aesthetic perspective bloomed from the simplistic beauty that came from the raw earth.
My journey as an artist has only just begun. I am elated that I can connect with so many who are eager to hear about my story and design perspective.
I’ve always felt a peculiar awareness of the world around me. Growing up in the rural South as the daughter of a minister, I explored the world through the lens of an artist. I grew up on a small 5-acre farm with access to endless exploration and use of my imagination. These frequent explorations sharpened my eye to color, texture and the beauty found in nature. I learned to love animals, old trees, and the way light flickers through grassy fields.
Another fond and impactful memory of growing up was forged one summer when my mother turned off the cable and announced that my siblings and I would have to find our entertainment at the library, which was walking distance from our home. Learning about the outside world — beyond our little town — from books would shape my identity even in adulthood.
As I reflect on those early years, it was most certainly the combination of my faith, nature, and those long hours spent at the library that created the artist that I am today.
PHOT BY KAYLA MENDEZ.
In high school, I found my safe haven in the art room. My art teacher, Mrs. Bramlett, kindly let me join the older students in their advanced art studies. I spent time doing pottery, painting, and sketching portraits — whatever my hands could grasp, I was eager to learn its language. As my studies and love for art increased, I got the news that my beloved teacher Mrs. Bramlett was retiring. I did not find the same connection with our new art teacher and, upon graduation, decided to part ways with my love for art to pursue something more practical. I was also ready to leave my small hometown and explore a larger area that would fit with my chosen college major, which was resort and hospitality management. South Florida became the most appealing prospect, and I left the peace and calm of farm life to discover my new adult self in this new adventure.
My journey back to art would include several triumphs and failures, and a lot of uncertainty. While the hospitality world was exciting and new, my heart often called me back to using my hands. I think the breaking point came after having my first child and deciding to become a stay-at-home mom. I remember being overjoyed, but also lonely in the day-to-day acts of being home. While I loved my beautiful children, there was something that began to grow in me that I felt I needed to express. I began to paint and draw and do pottery again, which felt fulfilling, but I also knew that there was something more.
I recall the first table that I decided to purchase for resale. It was especially unique with its curves and texture. I convinced my husband to drive the two hours to get it and I promised him that I would sell it. At the time, my husband was the only one working, so every move had to be thoughtfully agreed upon. To my delight, the table sold and spurred on my new determination to become a furniture seller. One buyer in particular, a vintage dealer from Atlanta, opened my eyes to the world of vintage resale in a way that completely changed me.
I decided to start an Instagram account to display my beautiful finds. I wanted to tell the story of these items that were often handmade and bespoke, but usually stored and forgotten. They spoke to me in a way that would often bring me to the point of being emotional; a sculptural chair with an incredible finish or a wonky-shaped lamp that looked like a trumpet. I began reaching into my database of imagination and words to infuse life into these pieces as well as harnessing the things I learned in those early days on the farm about light and form.
As my Instagram account following grew, so did my bravery in storytelling. I wanted to add elements of my culture and my faith into the dynamic and I did just that. I also wanted to experiment with a certain styling direction, which included a specific color palette, lighting, and storyline.
I wanted to talk about the “folk” of the rural South. The richness of heritage in people like my grandparents and other artists of the African diaspora, such as Toni Morrison, the Gee’s Bend quilters, and Bill Traylor. I now spoke on my Instagram not only as a seller but as an artist because I saw parallels in these stories in the beautiful furniture I was curating. I wanted my furniture and curating practice to be an experience for the viewer and buyer. It was very important for me to connect with my audience in a way that triggered an emotional response because, after all, I believe this is the purpose of art.
Most recently, I was excited to collaborate with Hudson Valley Lighting Group to tell my folk stories in the form of lighting. This experience brought everything I knew about art up until this point to the forefront, from sketching the products to choosing the final finishes. My collection Folk and Flora embodies the stories, history and artistry that tell my authentic story, and is to date my fondest project.
It is now my goal and aspiration to further my reach through design in the furniture world. I would love to collaborate with more brands in the interior space, doing things such as rugs, textile design and other furniture products. If I could offer any advice to artists, I would say that it’s important to have an authentic voice that makes you stand out from the crowd.
In the past, I often felt embarrassed about growing up on a farm and I thought that I would be perceived as simple or not sophisticated in my perspective. I now proudly claim this rich heritage because the soulfulness of my aesthetic perspective bloomed from the simplistic beauty that came from the raw earth.
My journey as an artist has only just begun. I am elated that I can connect with so many who are eager to hear about my story and design perspective.
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I’ve always felt a peculiar awareness of the world around me. Growing up in the rural South as the daughter of a minister, I explored the world through the lens of an artist. I grew up on a small 5-acre farm with access to endless exploration and use of my imagination. These frequent explorations sharpened my eye to color, texture and the beauty found in nature. I learned to love animals, old trees, and the way light flickers through grassy fields.
Another fond and impactful memory of growing up was forged one summer when my mother turned off the cable and announced that my siblings and I would have to find our entertainment at the library, which was walking distance from our home. Learning about the outside world — beyond our little town — from books would shape my identity even in adulthood.
As I reflect on those early years, it was most certainly the combination of my faith, nature, and those long hours spent at the library that created the artist that I am today.
PHOT BY KAYLA MENDEZ.
In high school, I found my safe haven in the art room. My art teacher, Mrs. Bramlett, kindly let me join the older students in their advanced art studies. I spent time doing pottery, painting, and sketching portraits — whatever my hands could grasp, I was eager to learn its language. As my studies and love for art increased, I got the news that my beloved teacher Mrs. Bramlett was retiring. I did not find the same connection with our new art teacher and, upon graduation, decided to part ways with my love for art to pursue something more practical. I was also ready to leave my small hometown and explore a larger area that would fit with my chosen college major, which was resort and hospitality management. South Florida became the most appealing prospect, and I left the peace and calm of farm life to discover my new adult self in this new adventure.
My journey back to art would include several triumphs and failures, and a lot of uncertainty. While the hospitality world was exciting and new, my heart often called me back to using my hands. I think the breaking point came after having my first child and deciding to become a stay-at-home mom. I remember being overjoyed, but also lonely in the day-to-day acts of being home. While I loved my beautiful children, there was something that began to grow in me that I felt I needed to express. I began to paint and draw and do pottery again, which felt fulfilling, but I also knew that there was something more.
I recall the first table that I decided to purchase for resale. It was especially unique with its curves and texture. I convinced my husband to drive the two hours to get it and I promised him that I would sell it. At the time, my husband was the only one working, so every move had to be thoughtfully agreed upon. To my delight, the table sold and spurred on my new determination to become a furniture seller. One buyer in particular, a vintage dealer from Atlanta, opened my eyes to the world of vintage resale in a way that completely changed me.
I decided to start an Instagram account to display my beautiful finds. I wanted to tell the story of these items that were often handmade and bespoke, but usually stored and forgotten. They spoke to me in a way that would often bring me to the point of being emotional; a sculptural chair with an incredible finish or a wonky-shaped lamp that looked like a trumpet. I began reaching into my database of imagination and words to infuse life into these pieces as well as harnessing the things I learned in those early days on the farm about light and form.
As my Instagram account following grew, so did my bravery in storytelling. I wanted to add elements of my culture and my faith into the dynamic and I did just that. I also wanted to experiment with a certain styling direction, which included a specific color palette, lighting, and storyline.
I wanted to talk about the “folk” of the rural South. The richness of heritage in people like my grandparents and other artists of the African diaspora, such as Toni Morrison, the Gee’s Bend quilters, and Bill Traylor. I now spoke on my Instagram not only as a seller but as an artist because I saw parallels in these stories in the beautiful furniture I was curating. I wanted my furniture and curating practice to be an experience for the viewer and buyer. It was very important for me to connect with my audience in a way that triggered an emotional response because, after all, I believe this is the purpose of art.
Most recently, I was excited to collaborate with Hudson Valley Lighting Group to tell my folk stories in the form of lighting. This experience brought everything I knew about art up until this point to the forefront, from sketching the products to choosing the final finishes. My collection Folk and Flora embodies the stories, history and artistry that tell my authentic story, and is to date my fondest project.
It is now my goal and aspiration to further my reach through design in the furniture world. I would love to collaborate with more brands in the interior space, doing things such as rugs, textile design and other furniture products. If I could offer any advice to artists, I would say that it’s important to have an authentic voice that makes you stand out from the crowd.
In the past, I often felt embarrassed about growing up on a farm and I thought that I would be perceived as simple or not sophisticated in my perspective. I now proudly claim this rich heritage because the soulfulness of my aesthetic perspective bloomed from the simplistic beauty that came from the raw earth.
My journey as an artist has only just begun. I am elated that I can connect with so many who are eager to hear about my story and design perspective.
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