ISSUE NO. 69

A December Issue

A core philosophical idea around expressing what you repress is that unexpressed material does not disappear; it simply changes form. What is pushed down often resurfaces indirectly—through behavior, tension, projection, or repetition—seeking expression without language.

Philosophers and psychoanalytic thinkers alike suggest that repression is less about control and more about deferred acknowledgment: the self fragments when parts of experience are denied voice. Expression, then, is not indulgence but integration—the act of giving shape to what already exists so it no longer governs from the shadows.

ARCHITECTURALLY CURIOUS

Admired Fluidity

Brick curves instead of corners, softening the meeting of streets and quietly acknowledging everything around it. A round window interrupts the wall like a held breath—neither decorative nor random, just precise. Subtle shifts in brick tone lighten the upper mass, making the building feel responsive rather than fixed. It’s a structure that listens before it speaks.

II.

Vertical wood slats stretch upward, letting light slip through in narrow bands that change hour by hour. Circular openings and overhead light sources turn brightness into motion, tracing the day across walls and floors. Curves replace sharp turns, easing movement without calling attention to themselves. Time becomes legible here, measured in shadow rather than clocks.

III.

Materials stay calm and deliberate: pale plaster, warm wood, surfaces that don’t ask to be admired up close. Storage disappears into walls, furniture feels lightly placed, and nothing insists on permanence. The spaces resist being “finished,” leaving room for adjustment, habit, and daily life. What lingers is a sense of openness—not emptiness, but readiness.

GLOBAL GLIMPSE

The Curve, a Soft Argument

A long, dark table stretches through the space like an anchor, its matte surface absorbing light rather than reflecting it. Pale plaster walls and ceilings blur their edges, softened by subtle curves that keep the geometry from feeling rigid.

Linen drapery runs floor to ceiling, filtering daylight into a low, even glow that settles instead of spreads. Nothing competes for attention; the room relies on proportion and restraint to hold its calm.

Quietly Distributed

Carved wooden stools sit low and solid, their visible growth rings turning structure into ornament without decoration. A single potted branch leans gently toward the wall, introducing movement without breaking the stillness. Stone and wood meet at small tables and benches, their finishes left honest and slightly imperfect. The palette stays hushed—warm neutrals, muted browns—allowing texture to do the talking.

Stillness, Occupied

A simple desk tucks against the wall, paired with a woven chair and a softly glowing lamp that feels more atmospheric than functional. Books and ceramics are placed sparingly, like pauses rather than statements.

Light pools in corners, fades across plaster, and changes the room throughout the day without needing intervention. What lingers is a sense of quiet intention: an interior designed not to impress, but to steady whoever inhabits it.

VISUAL COMFORT

Stacked and Restrained

What lingers first is the drape: fabric pulled long and heavy across a reclining body, white against a ground that refuses softness. The figure is present but not offered up; it rests with intention, neither hidden nor explained.

Gesture replaces spectacle here—hands folded, limbs extended, posture calm—suggesting that visibility itself can be quiet and still be radical. The body is not performing identity; it is simply allowed to exist within the frame, weighted and sure.

Together, these works suggest that expression doesn’t always arrive as rupture—sometimes it survives as decoration, waiting centuries to be seen clearly again.

MUSICAL INTERLUDE

What I'm Listening to in December

In this view, freedom comes not from eliminating difficult feelings, but from allowing them to be seen, named, and metabolized into conscious life—wishing you a steady and meaningful year ahead; until next week my friends.

Warmly,
/shane