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Two bunk rooms at Shenandoah Farm. One within the Lake House, moodier and cocooned. The other inside the Cabin, quieter and sun-washed, shaped by slow summer rhythms.

A simple idea, really. Places for cousins, friends, blankets on the floor, and the kind of memory-making that happens almost accidentally. Interiors @pfeffertorode @ginnyau Photography @aliharper

Two bunk rooms at Shenandoah Farm. One within the Lake House, moodier and cocooned. The other inside the Cabin, quieter and sun-washed, shaped by slow summer rhythms.

A simple idea, really. Places for cousins, friends, blankets on the floor, and the kind of memory-making that happens almost accidentally. Interiors @pfeffertorode @ginnyau Photography @aliharper

Creative problems don’t stay in their lane.
Neither do the disciplines that solve them.
Across oceans, as always.

Creative problems don’t stay in their lane.
Neither do the disciplines that solve them.
Across oceans, as always.

Creative problems don’t stay in their lane.
Neither do the disciplines that solve them.
Across oceans, as always.

Creative problems don’t stay in their lane.
Neither do the disciplines that solve them.
Across oceans, as always.

Creative problems don’t stay in their lane.
Neither do the disciplines that solve them.
Across oceans, as always.

Creative problems don’t stay in their lane.
Neither do the disciplines that solve them.
Across oceans, as always.

Part Four of our KVA Book Shoot, and a huge thanks to our team. We can not wait to share this all with you.

A year ago, @black_sheep_and_co welcomed our studio into her home for an unforgettable afternoon—one that reminded us of the quiet beauty found in a life well lived. Surrounded by the layers of a loved home, we shared stories, laughter, and the kind of inspiration that lingers long after.

Thank you, Barbara, for the gift of your time, your table, and your way of seeing the world.

A year ago, @black_sheep_and_co welcomed our studio into her home for an unforgettable afternoon—one that reminded us of the quiet beauty found in a life well lived. Surrounded by the layers of a loved home, we shared stories, laughter, and the kind of inspiration that lingers long after.

Thank you, Barbara, for the gift of your time, your table, and your way of seeing the world.

A year ago, @black_sheep_and_co welcomed our studio into her home for an unforgettable afternoon—one that reminded us of the quiet beauty found in a life well lived. Surrounded by the layers of a loved home, we shared stories, laughter, and the kind of inspiration that lingers long after.

Thank you, Barbara, for the gift of your time, your table, and your way of seeing the world.

A year ago, @black_sheep_and_co welcomed our studio into her home for an unforgettable afternoon—one that reminded us of the quiet beauty found in a life well lived. Surrounded by the layers of a loved home, we shared stories, laughter, and the kind of inspiration that lingers long after.

Thank you, Barbara, for the gift of your time, your table, and your way of seeing the world.

A year ago, @black_sheep_and_co welcomed our studio into her home for an unforgettable afternoon—one that reminded us of the quiet beauty found in a life well lived. Surrounded by the layers of a loved home, we shared stories, laughter, and the kind of inspiration that lingers long after.

Thank you, Barbara, for the gift of your time, your table, and your way of seeing the world.

A year ago, @black_sheep_and_co welcomed our studio into her home for an unforgettable afternoon—one that reminded us of the quiet beauty found in a life well lived. Surrounded by the layers of a loved home, we shared stories, laughter, and the kind of inspiration that lingers long after.

Thank you, Barbara, for the gift of your time, your table, and your way of seeing the world.

A year ago, @black_sheep_and_co welcomed our studio into her home for an unforgettable afternoon—one that reminded us of the quiet beauty found in a life well lived. Surrounded by the layers of a loved home, we shared stories, laughter, and the kind of inspiration that lingers long after.

Thank you, Barbara, for the gift of your time, your table, and your way of seeing the world.

April in snapshots — southern spring in full swing. dirt on cleats, sketches on drafting tables, site walks, my first go as a prom mom, more baseball and all the little in-betweens that make it ours.

April in snapshots — southern spring in full swing. dirt on cleats, sketches on drafting tables, site walks, my first go as a prom mom, more baseball and all the little in-betweens that make it ours.

April in snapshots — southern spring in full swing. dirt on cleats, sketches on drafting tables, site walks, my first go as a prom mom, more baseball and all the little in-betweens that make it ours.

April in snapshots — southern spring in full swing. dirt on cleats, sketches on drafting tables, site walks, my first go as a prom mom, more baseball and all the little in-betweens that make it ours.

April in snapshots — southern spring in full swing. dirt on cleats, sketches on drafting tables, site walks, my first go as a prom mom, more baseball and all the little in-betweens that make it ours.

April in snapshots — southern spring in full swing. dirt on cleats, sketches on drafting tables, site walks, my first go as a prom mom, more baseball and all the little in-betweens that make it ours.

April in snapshots — southern spring in full swing. dirt on cleats, sketches on drafting tables, site walks, my first go as a prom mom, more baseball and all the little in-betweens that make it ours.

April in snapshots — southern spring in full swing. dirt on cleats, sketches on drafting tables, site walks, my first go as a prom mom, more baseball and all the little in-betweens that make it ours.

April in snapshots — southern spring in full swing. dirt on cleats, sketches on drafting tables, site walks, my first go as a prom mom, more baseball and all the little in-betweens that make it ours.

April in snapshots — southern spring in full swing. dirt on cleats, sketches on drafting tables, site walks, my first go as a prom mom, more baseball and all the little in-betweens that make it ours.

April in snapshots — southern spring in full swing. dirt on cleats, sketches on drafting tables, site walks, my first go as a prom mom, more baseball and all the little in-betweens that make it ours.

April in snapshots — southern spring in full swing. dirt on cleats, sketches on drafting tables, site walks, my first go as a prom mom, more baseball and all the little in-betweens that make it ours.

April in snapshots — southern spring in full swing. dirt on cleats, sketches on drafting tables, site walks, my first go as a prom mom, more baseball and all the little in-betweens that make it ours.

Pfeffer Torode.

This book cover is pinned up in my studio. I found it randomly, without knowing anything about the book itself. But the title—it felt like it had been written for me. I am, indeed, further south than planned.

I will never love the heat, the way the air wraps around you like a wool blanket in the dead of summer. I miss the country lanes, the morning call of the blackbird. I long for autumns that linger, summers that know when to leave. And I miss all the places that hold memories I cannot pass down—the swimming holes that held whole afternoons, the windswept moors where I walked for miles without a destination —they exist now only in memory.

But roots take hold even in unexpected soil. I have built a life here, not the one I planned, but one that is mine. And further south than planned is no longer a statement of misdirection—it is the shape of my story.

I have made a career in the shadows of creators and makers of all kinds. I am envious of their art—their ability to make something where there was once nothing. I laugh as I write that because, for someone as spirited (or roguish, brazen, vivacious—take your pick!) as me, it feels a little nonsensical to think I’m capable of not being the center. But I like it here. I like to think I am good at what I do—supporting, protecting, advocating.

I seem to have fallen into this profession, partly from being the daughter of a composer and partly from my obsession with where something starts—and where it twists, falters, and eventually takes shape. I’ve seen the joys and, at times, the despair that accompany the journey of creation. The beauty is in all of it—the struggle, the persistence—every sketch, line, and thought. I want to protect and share it all because witnessing the evolution of something—a piece of art, a design, an idea—feels nothing short of remarkable.

Which is why this book just makes sense right now. The Work of Art dives headfirst into the messy, beautiful process of creation. Link in my stories.

I have made a career in the shadows of creators and makers of all kinds. I am envious of their art—their ability to make something where there was once nothing. I laugh as I write that because, for someone as spirited (or roguish, brazen, vivacious—take your pick!) as me, it feels a little nonsensical to think I’m capable of not being the center. But I like it here. I like to think I am good at what I do—supporting, protecting, advocating.

I seem to have fallen into this profession, partly from being the daughter of a composer and partly from my obsession with where something starts—and where it twists, falters, and eventually takes shape. I’ve seen the joys and, at times, the despair that accompany the journey of creation. The beauty is in all of it—the struggle, the persistence—every sketch, line, and thought. I want to protect and share it all because witnessing the evolution of something—a piece of art, a design, an idea—feels nothing short of remarkable.

Which is why this book just makes sense right now. The Work of Art dives headfirst into the messy, beautiful process of creation. Link in my stories.

I have made a career in the shadows of creators and makers of all kinds. I am envious of their art—their ability to make something where there was once nothing. I laugh as I write that because, for someone as spirited (or roguish, brazen, vivacious—take your pick!) as me, it feels a little nonsensical to think I’m capable of not being the center. But I like it here. I like to think I am good at what I do—supporting, protecting, advocating.

I seem to have fallen into this profession, partly from being the daughter of a composer and partly from my obsession with where something starts—and where it twists, falters, and eventually takes shape. I’ve seen the joys and, at times, the despair that accompany the journey of creation. The beauty is in all of it—the struggle, the persistence—every sketch, line, and thought. I want to protect and share it all because witnessing the evolution of something—a piece of art, a design, an idea—feels nothing short of remarkable.

Which is why this book just makes sense right now. The Work of Art dives headfirst into the messy, beautiful process of creation. Link in my stories.

I have made a career in the shadows of creators and makers of all kinds. I am envious of their art—their ability to make something where there was once nothing. I laugh as I write that because, for someone as spirited (or roguish, brazen, vivacious—take your pick!) as me, it feels a little nonsensical to think I’m capable of not being the center. But I like it here. I like to think I am good at what I do—supporting, protecting, advocating.

I seem to have fallen into this profession, partly from being the daughter of a composer and partly from my obsession with where something starts—and where it twists, falters, and eventually takes shape. I’ve seen the joys and, at times, the despair that accompany the journey of creation. The beauty is in all of it—the struggle, the persistence—every sketch, line, and thought. I want to protect and share it all because witnessing the evolution of something—a piece of art, a design, an idea—feels nothing short of remarkable.

Which is why this book just makes sense right now. The Work of Art dives headfirst into the messy, beautiful process of creation. Link in my stories.

I first came across this study over a year ago, and it has stayed with me ever since. Imagine gathering some of the greatest architects of the 20th century—Eero Saarinen, Philip Johnson, Louis Kahn, Richard Neutra—and asking them to participate in a psychological study that tried to measure creativity. It feels strange, almost impossible, to quantify something as elusive as creativity, and yet the stories and findings from this study are captivating.

I was happy to come across this reminder of the study today, of all days. What struck me most was how much creativity is shaped by process. It’s not just about inspiration but about how we approach problems, balance intuition with discipline, and even lean into our quirks and contradictions. Creativity is rarely linear—it’s a messy, layered act of exploration, refinement, and risk-taking.

John Cleese said it best:
“The most creative people have learned to tolerate the discomfort of not knowing, for much longer than the rest of us.”

If you’re curious to learn more, read the article on @dwellmagazine

I first came across this study over a year ago, and it has stayed with me ever since. Imagine gathering some of the greatest architects of the 20th century—Eero Saarinen, Philip Johnson, Louis Kahn, Richard Neutra—and asking them to participate in a psychological study that tried to measure creativity. It feels strange, almost impossible, to quantify something as elusive as creativity, and yet the stories and findings from this study are captivating.

I was happy to come across this reminder of the study today, of all days. What struck me most was how much creativity is shaped by process. It’s not just about inspiration but about how we approach problems, balance intuition with discipline, and even lean into our quirks and contradictions. Creativity is rarely linear—it’s a messy, layered act of exploration, refinement, and risk-taking.

John Cleese said it best:
“The most creative people have learned to tolerate the discomfort of not knowing, for much longer than the rest of us.”

If you’re curious to learn more, read the article on @dwellmagazine

I first came across this study over a year ago, and it has stayed with me ever since. Imagine gathering some of the greatest architects of the 20th century—Eero Saarinen, Philip Johnson, Louis Kahn, Richard Neutra—and asking them to participate in a psychological study that tried to measure creativity. It feels strange, almost impossible, to quantify something as elusive as creativity, and yet the stories and findings from this study are captivating.

I was happy to come across this reminder of the study today, of all days. What struck me most was how much creativity is shaped by process. It’s not just about inspiration but about how we approach problems, balance intuition with discipline, and even lean into our quirks and contradictions. Creativity is rarely linear—it’s a messy, layered act of exploration, refinement, and risk-taking.

John Cleese said it best:
“The most creative people have learned to tolerate the discomfort of not knowing, for much longer than the rest of us.”

If you’re curious to learn more, read the article on @dwellmagazine

I first came across this study over a year ago, and it has stayed with me ever since. Imagine gathering some of the greatest architects of the 20th century—Eero Saarinen, Philip Johnson, Louis Kahn, Richard Neutra—and asking them to participate in a psychological study that tried to measure creativity. It feels strange, almost impossible, to quantify something as elusive as creativity, and yet the stories and findings from this study are captivating.

I was happy to come across this reminder of the study today, of all days. What struck me most was how much creativity is shaped by process. It’s not just about inspiration but about how we approach problems, balance intuition with discipline, and even lean into our quirks and contradictions. Creativity is rarely linear—it’s a messy, layered act of exploration, refinement, and risk-taking.

John Cleese said it best:
“The most creative people have learned to tolerate the discomfort of not knowing, for much longer than the rest of us.”

If you’re curious to learn more, read the article on @dwellmagazine

I first came across this study over a year ago, and it has stayed with me ever since. Imagine gathering some of the greatest architects of the 20th century—Eero Saarinen, Philip Johnson, Louis Kahn, Richard Neutra—and asking them to participate in a psychological study that tried to measure creativity. It feels strange, almost impossible, to quantify something as elusive as creativity, and yet the stories and findings from this study are captivating.

I was happy to come across this reminder of the study today, of all days. What struck me most was how much creativity is shaped by process. It’s not just about inspiration but about how we approach problems, balance intuition with discipline, and even lean into our quirks and contradictions. Creativity is rarely linear—it’s a messy, layered act of exploration, refinement, and risk-taking.

John Cleese said it best:
“The most creative people have learned to tolerate the discomfort of not knowing, for much longer than the rest of us.”

If you’re curious to learn more, read the article on @dwellmagazine

@eelkejanbles ❤️

@eelkejanbles ❤️

@eelkejanbles ❤️

@eelkejanbles ❤️

@eelkejanbles ❤️

@eelkejanbles ❤️

early morning adventures with @pfeffertorode @sc_torode @j_torode @jh_pfeffer @sandersbohlke

Every trip yields a treasure trove of natural finds. Sometimes it’s to cherish a memory, other times it’s the delight of marveling at natural wonders. Anyone who knows me is familiar with my vast collection of rocks and stones, which brings me joy to share. Being a collector in life fosters curiosity, connects us to the world around us, sparks conversations, preserves memories, and brings beauty into our lives.

Every trip yields a treasure trove of natural finds. Sometimes it’s to cherish a memory, other times it’s the delight of marveling at natural wonders. Anyone who knows me is familiar with my vast collection of rocks and stones, which brings me joy to share. Being a collector in life fosters curiosity, connects us to the world around us, sparks conversations, preserves memories, and brings beauty into our lives.

Every trip yields a treasure trove of natural finds. Sometimes it’s to cherish a memory, other times it’s the delight of marveling at natural wonders. Anyone who knows me is familiar with my vast collection of rocks and stones, which brings me joy to share. Being a collector in life fosters curiosity, connects us to the world around us, sparks conversations, preserves memories, and brings beauty into our lives.

Every trip yields a treasure trove of natural finds. Sometimes it’s to cherish a memory, other times it’s the delight of marveling at natural wonders. Anyone who knows me is familiar with my vast collection of rocks and stones, which brings me joy to share. Being a collector in life fosters curiosity, connects us to the world around us, sparks conversations, preserves memories, and brings beauty into our lives.

Every trip yields a treasure trove of natural finds. Sometimes it’s to cherish a memory, other times it’s the delight of marveling at natural wonders. Anyone who knows me is familiar with my vast collection of rocks and stones, which brings me joy to share. Being a collector in life fosters curiosity, connects us to the world around us, sparks conversations, preserves memories, and brings beauty into our lives.

Every trip yields a treasure trove of natural finds. Sometimes it’s to cherish a memory, other times it’s the delight of marveling at natural wonders. Anyone who knows me is familiar with my vast collection of rocks and stones, which brings me joy to share. Being a collector in life fosters curiosity, connects us to the world around us, sparks conversations, preserves memories, and brings beauty into our lives.