– A journal from the Ri shoot, and something more..
Over the last two days, we shot for Ri — mainly our linens like organic cotton muslin comforters, hemp duvet, linen blanket , linen bedsheets ,pillow covers and the Harita stoneware dinner set.
The work itself felt effortless, like it flowed through us rather than from us. We were shooting in a house nestled beside a vast green field. Not just a little patch of lawn, but a real, breathing field — alive, open, drenched in earth and quiet. With beautiful green grass and these gorgeous, old, massive trees with velvet-green algae covering their bark. I really love trees and I often hug them so I went ahead and I touched these beauties. Stood still with them. There was something grounding in that — a kind of stillness I didn’t know I needed.
Luckily, we had planned to shoot a few products outdoors, and today although it started to rain. we decided to do it anyway. Good Decision !!! Because then I had to walk barefoot on the grass for some shots and That moment — just me, the wet grass, and the rain — felt incredibly connecting. Stripped of distraction, it reminded me of what I crave more of: simplicity, presence, and time spent in nature.
it was captured so well - that moment, and more - like picking up a few wildflowers growing nearby , not in the sense of plucking aimlessly, but gently trimming them, so they can grow back fuller. I later placed them in a vase inside the house. I do this often, actually. It feels like a small, beautiful ritual to me.
And maybe these are my rituals-
• Walking barefoot on wet grass to connect
• Hugging trees, placing hands on their bark, feeling their stillness pass into me
• Trimming a few wildflowers — bringing them home, placing them in clay vases, letting them light up quiet corners
• Standing in the rain without running from it
• Touching nature and being touched back
• Remembering that all of this really is self-love, self expression.
simple , basic- the kind that feels wild and free.
The kind that’s found in moss and bark, in muddy feet, in cool grass, in the gentleness of doing nothing but being.
Because this — this feeling — is what life is.
This is what home is.