July: Relections

The heat hangs heavy, and perspiration drips. The studio doesn't have air conditioning, but I gladly sit here in my happy place.

I wanted to reflect monthly, but as the months passed, I realized I hadn't written in my journal in quite a while. I didn't want it to feel forced. I finally feel ready.

Recap & Reflect

Over the past few months, I've been creating The Courtyard Collection—ceramic pieces inspired by imperfect courtyards (like mine) and hot summer days. Morning coffee in a handmade mug, your favorite pastry from the local boulangerie. My choice would be a few madelines paired with a medium roast, sprinkled with cinnamon. A piece of in-season fruit, maybe an egg to get me through the morning.

I didn't stop at the lovely dessert plates. Oh no. I created oval ceramic platters imprinted with lavender and edged in gold. Close your eyes and daydream with me for a bit. The sun is setting, the music is lovely, and the table is set. Cheese, fruit, nuts, wine... café lights paint the scene. Swoon.

I create pieces that I hope invoke a feeling. They are not just objects; they are pieces that I hope become part of your memories.

They began as simple pieces of earth, and somehow that still amazes me every single day.

The Court Yard Collection 

I made a zine!

Where The Quiet Blooms: An Artist Zine 

And somewhere between shaping clay and tending the garden, Where the Quiet Blooms came to life. A small art zine filled with artwork, photographs, and quiet thoughts gathered throughout the seasons. It feels less like a product and more like a companion to the collection—an invitation to slow down.

Daydream with me. You're sitting in your courtyard with that lovely mug, a few madelines, and Where the Quiet Blooms in your hands.

Lately, I’ve been noticing how none of these pieces exist in isolation. The clay, the garden, the writing, the photographs—they all speak to each other. What begins as a quiet morning ritual becomes a sketch, then a form, then a story. I’ve always felt pulled in many directions, but I’m starting to see that it’s not fragmentation—it’s connection.

I am multi-passionate, and my worlds don’t compete—they intertwine. The studio feeds the garden, the garden feeds the zine, the zine feeds the work. Everything I create is part of the same conversation, just expressed in different ways.

Here’s to slow mornings, imperfect courtyards, and the beautiful way it all comes together. 

All of these pieces are in the studio with me, ready to find a new home. 

Blue Rochelle Studio 2026