There’s something ancient in the handmade.
Something your body remembers, even if your mind has forgotten.
The weight of a ceramic mug, still warm from firing.
The brushstroke that doesn’t follow rules.
The cedar grain in a hand-built chair, whispering of trees and time.
In a world obsessed with convenience, handmade is a beautiful rebellion.
I’ve always known I was creative.
Even as a child, I was building, crafting, painting. Finding joy in creating with my hands. That was my happiest place. Not because anyone told me it mattered, but because something in me needed to create. It was never about learning to be an artist. It was always about remembering that I already was.
There was a time I questioned whether beauty really mattered.
With everything going on in the world, it felt small. Frivolous, even. But I’ve come to learn something that changed everything:
I didn’t start The Curated Life last week or even last year.
This brand has been growing quietly in the background of my life since 2021, through one of the hardest chapters I’ve ever faced.
“Life is beautiful”…this is Curated Art and Living’s tag line. Beauty is all around us we just have to slow down enough to actually be aware of it.
