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In the practice of colors and coloring magnetism, colored pencils become ritual tools. Each stroke is a vibration. Each hue, a frequency. Coloring becomes a way to magnetize emotion, to guide energy through gesture and pigment. A circle of indigo may invite intuition. A spiral of orange may awaken joy. The act of coloring is not decorative—it is conductive. It channels intention through the fingertips, aligning inner polarity with outer form. The page becomes a field. The drawing, a map. The magnetism, alive in color. Color is vibration made visible. Magnetism, vibration made felt. One dances on the surface of the eye, the other hums beneath the skin. Together, they form a field—a quiet choreography of healing, attraction, and release. Red pulses with grounding. Blue whispers calm. Yellow radiates clarity. Green breathes balance into grief. These hues are not just pigments—they are emotional frequencies, each tuned to a different part of the soul. When placed with intention—on the body, in the room, within ritual—they become conductors of truth. They speak in silence, in shimmer, in warmth. Magnetism is the only invisible pull, the alignment of electrons, the quiet architecture of energy. It attracts, repels, stabilizes. In healing, it is used to stimulate flow, rebalance polarity, and amplify intention. But beyond the science, magnetism is metaphor. It is the pull of intuition, the resonance of values, the field in which transformation becomes possible. Crystals enter this dance as intermediaries. Their structure holds memory. Their color holds emotion. Their vibration holds intention. When placed within a magnetic field, they amplify. They conduct. They resonate. Amethyst with a gentle magnetic flow supports emotional release. Black tourmaline with grounding polarity shields and stabilizes. Clear quartz with focused magnetic pulse clarifies and magnifies. This is not mysticism. It is poetic physics. Emotional architecture. The slow science of healing. A ritual of resonance. A practice of alignment. A coloring of magnetism. Color and magnetism are not just tools. They are languages. They speak in vibration, in polarity, in poetic truth. When we listen, we heal. When we align, we remember. When we color magnetism, we conduct. You’re warmly invited to a gentle workshop where color becomes vibration, and magnetism becomes feeling. Coloring and Magnetism is a poetic space to explore emotional alignment through intentional coloring rituals—using colored pencils, crystals, and quiet gestures to conduct clarity, magnetize joy, and draw healing into form. Whether online or face to face, this experience welcomes all who wish to reconnect with their inner rhythm, one stroke at a time. Color is a frequency. Magnetism is a feeling. Draw what you need. Conduct what you feel. Every stroke is a signal. Every hue, a vibration. Coloring is not decoration—it’s alignment. Pigment holds memory. Gesture holds intention. Coloring magnetism is the art of emotional resonance.

A History of African Art is as much a story of fluid identities and interwoven traditions as it is of aesthetic mastery. Historically, African art was classified either by the so-called "tribe" from which it originated or by its function. Yet both approaches have proven inadequate. The term "tribe" itself has fallen out of favor among scholars due to its oversimplification of complex social realities. Colonialism, with its rigid mapping of political and linguistic boundaries, often froze dynamic relationships into artificial constructs. The notion of a tribe—implying a homogenous group with shared language, values, and political structures—fails to account for the diversity within African societies, which are frequently divided by class, religion, politics, language, and literacy. These internal distinctions have given rise to varied artistic expressions, such as the exclusive royal art of the Kuba kingdom in Zaire or the provincial adaptations of court art in Benin. Classifying art by tribe not only obscures these nuances but also overlooks the mobility of artists and the circulation of objects across regions. Artistic exchange has long been a hallmark of African creativity. The Asante of Ghana, for instance, have commissioned khasa blankets and kerka wall hangings from Fulani weavers near the Niger River in Mali for centuries. These textiles are not merely decorative—they carry immense cultural prestige. Similarly, the embroidered gowns of northern Nigeria exemplify collaborative craftsmanship: one group weaves the cloth, another embroiders the pocket, and yet another designs the motifs. As John Picton and John Mack note in African Textiles, such garments may have played a role in unifying the emirates of northern Nigeria following the early nineteenth-century holy wars. This kind of interethnic cooperation challenges the notion of singular tribal authorship and highlights the importance of shared artistic vocabularies. The fluidity of artistic identity is further illustrated by the Hausa men who now cast modern Asante gold weights near Kumasi. Attribution becomes difficult when skills and styles transcend geographic and ethnic boundaries. Jan Vansina, in Art History in Africa, advocates for a shift in focus—from the institution to the object itself. He urges scholars to document the artist’s name, the date of creation, the village or workshop of origin, and the production method whenever possible. This approach honors the individuality of the maker and the specificity of the object, rather than subsuming both under broad cultural labels. Classifying African art by function also presents challenges. A single piece may serve multiple purposes, or its intended use may be ambiguous. Margaret Trowell, in African Design, proposes an alternative taxonomy based on material—wood, metal, ivory, textiles—allowing for a more objective and inclusive framework. This method respects the tactile and technical dimensions of African art, while sidestepping the pitfalls of reductive categorization. Ultimately, the history of African art is not a fixed narrative but a living archive of exchange, adaptation, and resilience. It invites us to look beyond labels and toward the intricate relationships between maker, material, and meaning. The history of African art resists containment within rigid categories or static definitions. It is a dynamic continuum shaped by movement, collaboration, and reinvention. Attempts to classify African art by tribe or function have often obscured the complexity of its origins and the richness of its exchanges. As the scholarship evolves, so too must our frameworks—toward approaches that honor the fluidity of identity, the specificity of craftsmanship, and the interwoven legacies of makers and materials. African art is not merely a reflection of cultural heritage; it is a testament to the ingenuity of artists who navigate boundaries, reinterpret traditions, and forge connections across time and space. In embracing this multiplicity, we begin to see African art not as a static artifact of the past, but as a living, breathing archive of human creativity.

The Invisible and Universal Language of Scent Scent is the only sense that bypasses the thalamus and speaks directly to the limbic system—the emotional brain. It is both primal and poetic, scientific and sacred. - Direct to emotion : Smell is processed in the amygdala and hippocampus, regions responsible for emotion and memory. - Cross - cultural resonance : From Ethiopian incense to French perfumery, scent rituals transcend borders and epochs. - Non - verbal healing : Scent communicates safety, longing, joy, grief—without needing words. - Temporal fluidity : A single note can collapse time, evoking childhood, ancestral memory, or imagined futures. - Spiritual anchoring : In rituals, scent marks transitions—birth, prayer, mourning, celebration. - Emotional precision : Unlike visual or auditory stimuli, scent evokes specific emotional states with uncanny accuracy. Scent is the soul’s language. It speaks in memory, in mood, in magnetism. It is invisible, yet unforgettable. - Olfactory memory is the most enduring form of recall. - Emotional resonance is often triggered by scent before thought. - Cultural universality: Across civilizations, scent has been used for healing, ritual, and storytelling. To smell is to remember. To wear scent is to speak without words. Aromatherapy: Science and Soul in Synergy Essential oils are emotional architects. Each one carries a distinct vibration, a therapeutic whisper. Here are a few that speak most clearly to the nervous system: - Lavender Emotional effect: Calming, soothing Scientific insight: Reduces cortisol levels, supports sleep and parasympathetic activation - Bergamot Emotional effect: Uplifting, clarifying Scientific insight: Modulates serotonin and dopamine, easing mild anxiety and depression - Vetiver Emotional effect: Grounding, stabilizing Scientific insight: Activates the parasympathetic nervous system, promoting emotional regulation - Neroli Emotional effect: Comforting, heart-opening Scientific insight: Shown to ease anxiety and support emotional release through GABA modulation Each oil is a note in the symphony of healing. Their synergy is choreography for the soul. - Synergy matters : Oils layered with intention create emotional choreography. - Application rituals : Pulse points, diffusers, or paired with breathwork enhance efficacy. Aromatherapy is emotional architecture—each note a beam, each blend a sanctuary. Perfume: The Art of Emotional Curation Perfume is not merely fragrance—it is emotional design. Each composition is a narrative, a mood, a memory in motion. - Top notes (e.g., citrus, herbs): Immediate impression, often uplifting or refreshing. - Heart notes (e.g., florals, spices): Emotional core, where the perfume’s soul resides. - Base notes (e.g., woods, resins): Anchoring, long-lasting, often evoking depth or nostalgia. Types of perfumes: - Eau de Cologne: Light, ephemeral, often used for freshness. - Eau de Toilette: Balanced, versatile, suitable for daily wear. - Eau de Parfum: Rich, expressive, emotionally resonant. - Extrait de Parfum: Intense, intimate, often ritualistic. To curate scent is to curate healing. Each perfume is a mirror, a mood, a memory. Scent and Neuroscience: Why It Moves Us Scientific studies confirm what poets have long known: scent alters brain chemistry. - Smell and trauma : Certain scents can trigger or soothe emotional flashbacks. - Smell and bonding : Pheromonal cues influence attachment and trust. - Smell and creativity : Olfactory stimulation enhances imagination and emotional expression. Scent is not decoration—it is dialogue with the nervous system. Here is a poetic, intemporal conclusion to complete your editorial with depth and longing—one that gently bridges this piece to your upcoming article on the Musée du Parfum: Toward the Museum of Memory... Scent is not a luxury. It is a language. It speaks when we cannot. It remembers when we forget. It holds what is fragile, and releases what is heavy. To wear perfume is to invite emotion. To curate scent is to curate healing. To breathe with intention is to live with resonance. Let us honor scent not as accessory, but as archive. A museum of memory, invisible yet intact. Each note a relic. Each blend a ritual. Each breath a return. In our next reflection, we will step into the Musée du Parfum— not as visitors, but as guardians of the emotional past. We will trace the lineage of longing, and listen to the stories that only scent can tell. Because to understand perfume is to understand ourselves—layered, fleeting, unforgettable.

From September 30, 2025 to January 18, 2026, the Musée du Quai Branly – Jacques Chirac in Paris unveils Amazônia, a groundbreaking exhibition that reimagines the Amazon through the eyes of its Indigenous peoples. Curated by anthropologist Leandro Varison and Indigenous artist Denilson Baniwa, Amazônia brings together over 200 works, including traditional artifacts, contemporary installations, photographs, videos, songs, and body art. Far from the romanticized image of untouched wilderness, the exhibition reveals the Amazon as a dynamic, pluralistic world, where ancestral knowledge and modern resistance coalesce. Featured Works and Artistic Highlights - Ka’apor Labret (1960–1972) : A traditional lip ornament made from natural materials and vibrant feathers, symbolizing identity and social status among the Ka’apor people of Maranhão, Brazil. - Feathered   Headdresses : Striking ceremonial pieces crafted by various Indigenous communities, showcasing intricate techniques and symbolic color palettes that reflect cosmological beliefs. - Fluorescent   Paintings   and   Sculptures : Contemporary works that reinterpret ancestral myths and body scarification practices, often using bold colors and modern materials to challenge colonial narratives. - Photographs   and   Videos : Visual documentation of daily life, rituals, and resistance movements, created by Indigenous photographers and filmmakers to reclaim representation. - Body   Art   and   Graphic   Language : Ephemeral and immaterial art forms such as songs, spoken languages, and body painting, emphasizing the living, performative nature of Amazonian cultures. - Installation   by   Rember   Yahuarcani   (Peru) : A haunting painting titled Passeur d’âmes du Covid-19, portraying a soul guide navigating pandemic grief through Indigenous cosmology. - Circle   of   Wooden   Stakes : A symbolic installation representing communities that have chosen voluntary isolation, resisting external contact to preserve their way of life Visitors are invited to explore themes of identity, spirituality, environmental stewardship, and cultural resilience, with objects like the Ka’apor labret—crafted from natural materials and vibrant feathers—symbolizing both heritage and defiance against deforestation. The exhibition’s scenography is intentionally sober, allowing Indigenous perspectives to take center stage. Rather than immersing visitors in exotic spectacle, Amazônia fosters dialogue between ancestral traditions and contemporary expressions, challenging Western art history’s categorizations and amplifying Indigenous voices. Through thematic chapters, the show explores creation myths, healing rituals, ecological wisdom, and visions for the future, offering a nuanced understanding of how humans, animals, spirits, and plants coexist in Amazonian cosmologies. As part of the Brazil-France 2025 Season, the museum complements the exhibition with concerts, performances, and public programs featuring Amazonian artists. A bilingual catalog will be available in October 2025, deepening the experience for French and international audiences. Practical Information Location : Musée du Quai Branly – Jacques Chirac, Paris 7th arrondissement Start Date: September 30, 2025 End Date: January 18, 2026 Admission Fees: - General admission: €14 - Reduced rate: €11 - Free entry: under 18s, EU residents under 26, and on the first Sunday of each month. Opening Hours: - Open daily (except Mondays, May 1st, and December 25th) from 10:30 AM to 7:00 PM - Thursdays open until 10:00 PM - Ticket counters close 1 hour before closing time Closures: - Closed on Mondays, May 1st, and December 25th    Website: www.quaibranly.fr

A candle flickers. Lavender mist rises. The body exhales. In this hush, we meet ourselves—not through thought, but through sensation. Auto-reflection begins here: in the breath between dreams and daylight, in the warmth of memory, in the soft ritual of noticing. It is not a task, but a return—a poetic invitation to witness what the soul has carried, and what it longs to release. What Is Auto-Reflection? Auto-reflection is the gentle art of turning inward—of listening to one’s own impressions, emotions, and sensations with compassion and curiosity. It is not analysis, nor judgment, but a poetic witnessing of the self. Through auto-reflection, we honor what has been lived, felt, dreamed, and carried—transforming everyday moments into sacred rituals of presence. Why Practice Auto-Reflection? Auto-reflection offers emotional clarity, creative renewal, and spiritual grounding. It helps us: - Recognize our emotional patterns and needs - Reclaim agency over our inner landscape - Transform fatigue or confusion into insight - Ritualize healing, creativity, and gratitude - Archive our lived experience with poetic care Whether practiced in solitude or woven into a sensory ritual, auto-reflection becomes a sanctuary—a place to meet ourselves gently, without performance. How to Begin Auto-reflection can be practiced through journaling, meditation, prayer, or quiet observation. It requires no tools—only presence. Begin with breath. Ask yourself soft questions. Let your answers arrive like petals, not verdicts. You may choose to reflect: - Upon waking, to honor the night’s impressions - Before sleep, to release the day’s weight - After a creative act, to witness your emotional pulse - During healing moments, to track your body’s whispers Rituals of Auto-Reflection Rituals transform reflection into a sacred act. They invite the body, senses, and spirit to participate. At Koöko Fleurs, we honor two key moments: morning and evening. Morning Ritual: Awakening Presence Purpose: To gently greet the day, honor the night’s impressions, and set emotional intention. Suggested Flow: 1. Breath & Stillness Inhale deeply. Exhale slowly. Whisper: “Je suis ici. I am present.” 2. Dream Debrief What did I see, feel, or hear in sleep? 3. Body Scan Where do I feel energy, tension, softness? 4. Emotional Check-In What emotions are present this morning? 5. Intention Setting What do I welcome into this day? Optional additions: scented pouch, affirmation card, soft music, journal entry. Evening Ritual: Releasing the Day Purpose: To archive the day’s experiences, release tension, and prepare for restorative sleep. Suggested Flow: 1. Breath & Gratitude Inhale the day. Exhale what no longer serves. Whisper: “Merci. Thank you.” 2. Sensory Recap What did my senses experience today? 3. Emotional Reflection What moved me, challenged me, surprised me? 4. Creative Pulse How did I express or imagine today? 5. Release & Blessing What do I forgive, release, or bless before sleep? Optional additions: candlelight, satin pillow, healing crystal, poetic journal. Prayers & Meditation Prayers and meditations deepen the ritual. They offer language to the soul and rhythm to the breath. A morning prayer may invoke clarity and courage. An evening meditation may cradle the body in softness and surrender. At Koöko Fleurs, we invite poetic prayers—gentle invocations that honor healing, vitality, and presence. Meditation may be guided or silent, paired with scent, texture, or sound. A Poetic Practice of Self-Honoring Auto-reflection is not a task—it is a gift. A ritual of self-honoring. A poetic pause in the rush of life. Whether practiced in five minutes or fifty, it affirms: “I am here. I am whole. I am worthy of witnessing.” At Koöko Fleurs, we believe healing begins with presence. Through auto-reflection, we transform fatigue into wisdom, emotion into art, and silence into sanctuary.

Two vases, imperfect and alive. The wall behind them wears its age like a painting. Wabi-sabi is the art of letting things be—as they are, as they were, as they will become. In the quiet folds of a linen curtain, in the chipped rim of a ceramic bowl, in the way light pools on a weathered wooden floor—wabi-sabi lives. It is not a style. It is a way of seeing. A way of feeling. A way of being. Rooted in Japanese aesthetics and Zen philosophy, wabi-sabi honors the imperfect, the impermanent, and the incomplete. It is the poetry of patina, the dignity of age, the grace of restraint. In a world that celebrates speed and symmetry, wabi-sabi offers a gentle rebellion—a return to presence, texture, and emotional truth. What Is Wabi-Sabi? Wabi-sabi is a compound of two ancient concepts: - Wabi evokes solitude, simplicity, and the understated elegance of nature. It is the quiet joy of a single wildflower in a handmade vase. - Sabi speaks of age, patina, and the beauty of time’s touch. It is the golden seam of a kintsugi bowl, the faded ink of a handwritten letter. Together, they form a philosophy that invites us to slow down, to cherish what is real, and to live with objects—and emotions—that are beautifully flawed. A room that breathes. Weathered wood, unfinished walls, and dried blooms speak of time’s quiet touch. Wabi-sabi is not curated—it’s cultivated... Wabi-Sabi in the Home A wabi-sabi home is not curated—it is cultivated. It breathes. It remembers. It holds space for the imperfect and the evolving. - A ceramic bowl with a speckled glaze and an uneven rim. - A cushion that remembers your shape. - A wooden spoon worn smooth by years of stirring. These are not decorations. They are companions. They carry memory, texture, and soul. Steam rises like a poem. The cast iron teapot holds warmth, memory, and silence. A ritual of slowness unfolds—tea as presence, imperfection as grace Wabi-Sabi in Practice To live wabi-sabi is to embrace the imperfect moments of your day: - Brewing tea in a chipped cup. - Writing with a pen that smudges. - Lighting a candle in a cracked holder. It is about presence, not polish. Feeling, not finishing. It is the art of noticing—the way steam rises, the way linen folds, the way silence settles. Wabi-Sabi in Creation To create through the lens of wabi-sabi is to embrace vulnerability as a form of artistry. It is a practice of letting go—of perfection, of control, of the need to impress. In the studio, the workshop, or the therapy room, wabi-sabi becomes a quiet companion. It whispers: you are allowed to be unfinished. For artists and therapists alike, this philosophy opens a space where materials are not just tools—they are mirrors. Clay remembers pressure. Linen carries warmth. Ink bleeds with emotion. The process becomes more important than the product. The crack in the glaze, the uneven stitch, the smudged line—these are not mistakes. They are emotional truths. In art therapy, wabi-sabi invites clients to explore their inner landscapes without judgment. A torn collage, a broken sculpture, a half-written poem—each becomes a vessel for healing. The act of making is the act of mending. The imperfection is the insight. Wabi-sabi creation is slow, sensory, and sacred. It honors the rhythm of breath, the weight of silence, the texture of memory. It allows space for pause, for reflection, for transformation. It is not about fixing—it is about feeling. Whether through ceramics, textiles, painting, or poetic practice, wabi-sabi reminds us that beauty is not found in flawlessness, but in authenticity. In the marks we leave. In the stories we carry. In the grace of becoming. Cracked, not broken—this mug remembers. Kintsugi gold traces the story of repair, while cherry blossoms whisper of fleeting beauty. Wabi-sabi lives in the space between loss and bloom.

As the spring air fills Paris with a sense of renewal, the art world buzzes with anticipation for the upcoming Henri Matisse exhibition. Connaissance des Arts, the esteemed magazine that has been a beacon of artistic culture since 19521, is at the forefront of this excitement, offering in-depth coverage and critical perspectives on the events that shape our artistic landscape. Matisse’s Upcoming Exhibition: A Celebration of Color and Form This spring, the Fondation Louis Vuitton is set to host a landmark exhibition dedicated to Henri Matisse’s “The Red Studio” (1911). This masterpiece, a pivotal work in the history of modern art, will be the centerpiece of an exhibition that promises to reunite the artworks depicted within it for the first time since they left Matisse’s studio in Issy-les-Moulineaux. The exhibition, a collaboration with the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), New York, and the SMK – Statens Museum for Kunst, Copenhagen, will offer a rare glimpse into the genesis and history of this iconic piece. Critics Weigh In: The Impact of Matisse’s Work Critics have long been fascinated by Matisse’s bold use of color and his ability to convey emotion through his art. His later works, particularly the cut-outs, have been hailed as a significant contribution to modern art34. The upcoming exhibition is expected to draw similar acclaim, with critics eager to revisit Matisse’s transformative approach to color and form. Connaissance des Arts: The Cultural Connoisseur’s Guide Connaissance des Arts continues to be a vital source for those seeking to understand and appreciate the nuances of the art world. With its comprehensive coverage of events, exhibitions, and the artists who shape our cultural narrative, the magazine remains a trusted guide for art enthusiasts and professionals alike5. As we await the opening of the Matisse exhibition, let us turn the pages of Connaissance des Arts to prepare ourselves for an immersive experience into the world of one of the greatest artists of the 20th century. Through the lens of critics and the rich history of the magazine, we are invited to deepen our connection with art and its enduring power to inspire and transform. L’Atelier rouge (1911) d’Henri Matisse, présenté dans l’exposition « Matisse. L’Atelier rouge », Fondation Louis Vuitton, Paris, 2024 ©Connaissance des Arts / Anne-Sophie Lesage-Münch So, until September 9, the Louis Vuitton Foundation is presenting, in parallel with the Ellsworth Kelly retrospective, an exhibition-file dedicated to Matisse's L'Atelier rouge, which exceptionally brings together all the works that appear on the canvas. For more information please click here .

Some feelings are big. Too big to carry all at once. In art therapy, children learn that they don’t have to hold everything inside—they can give their feelings a home. This is called emotional containment. It means creating a safe space—like a jar, a box, or a shell—where feelings can rest, be seen, and feel protected. Children might: - Place colored stones in a “Feelings Jar” to name emotions - Seal a “Worry Envelope” with a sticker to let go of fear - Decorate a “Kindness Box” with feathers and notes to hold love - Whisper into a “Nighttime Shell” to soothe bedtime thoughts “You don’t have to carry it all. You can place it somewhere safe.” Emotional containment helps children: - Understand and organize their feelings - Feel safe and supported, even when emotions are strong - Build rituals that comfort and empower - Learn that feelings are welcome, but don’t have to overwhelm The Tale of the Whisper Shell A Story About Emotional Containment for Kids In a quiet studio filled with soft light and rainbow shelves, a child named Noa held a small spiral shell in their hands. Their art therapist smiled and whispered, “This shell can hold your nighttime thoughts.” Noa closed her eyes and breathed gently. They whispered into the shell: “I’m scared of the dark.” “I miss my grandma.” “I hope I dream of stars.” The therapist placed a sticker on the shell—a golden moon. “Your feelings are safe,” she said. “The shell will hold them while you sleep.” Noa placed the shell beside his pillow. And when the lights dimmed, he whispered: “I feel lighter. I feel held.” Feelings don’t always need to be fixed. Sometimes, they just need a place to rest. In art therapy, emotional containment teaches children that their emotions are welcome—and that they can choose how to hold them. A jar, a shell, an envelope, a box… each one becomes a quiet guardian. “You are allowed to feel. You are allowed to pause. You are allowed to protect your heart.” And when the ritual is complete, children often whisper: “My feelings have a home. And so do I.”

Sometimes, feelings don’t live in words—they live in the body. A child might feel tight in the chest when they’re worried, or heavy in the legs when they’re sad. That’s called a somatic feeling—a feeling that shows up in the body. In art therapy, somatic movement helps children gently release those feelings. They stretch, sway, stomp, or curl—like animals, trees, or waves. Their body becomes a brush. Their breath becomes a rhythm. Nature becomes their studio. Children stretch like trees, twirl like wind, and flow like water. They don’t need words. Their bodies speak. The forest listens. In the forest, every movement is welcome. The leaves don’t ask questions. The sky doesn’t rush. The earth simply listens. Movement in nature helps children: - Release tension through breath and motion - Feel grounded and safe in their surroundings - Express emotions through imaginative gestures - Build confidence by connecting with the elements When children move with nature, they remember: “I belong here. I am strong. I am free.” The Tale of the Wind Dance A Story About Movement and Nature for Kids One soft morning, in a forest filled with golden light, a child named Avi stood barefoot on the moss. Their art therapist smiled and whispered, “Let’s move like the wind.” Avi lifted their arms like wings. They twirled slowly, then faster, then paused. The trees swayed with them. A red bird watched from a branch. A pinecone rolled gently near their foot. “This is my swirl,” Avi said. “This is my storm. This is my calm.” The therapist placed a shell in Avi’s hand. “This is your breath,” she said. “It carries your feelings. It carries you.” Avi smiled. The forest had heard them. The wind had danced with them. And their body felt light, like a leaf ready to float. When the Body Blooms In nature, movement becomes a language. Children stretch, swirl, and sway—not to perform, but to feel. The trees don’t judge. The wind doesn’t rush. The earth holds them, just as they are. Art therapy in nature reminds children: “Your body is wise. Your feelings are welcome. You belong.” And when the session ends, they often whisper: “I feel like the forest knows me.”

There’s a quiet kind of bravery in painting outdoors. To create in real time, in real space, with no curtain between the artist and the world—it’s a gesture of trust. It’s about presence. Events like Paint It Fresh! remind us that art doesn’t always need a frame or a gallery. Sometimes, it lives best in the open air, where light shifts and strangers pause. Here, the act of making becomes part of the landscape. The Ritual of Plein Air Painting At Koöko Fleurs, we believe in rituals that root us. We appreciate the way petals unfold without permission. We admire how a brushstroke can echo the curve of a leaf or the hush of dusk. Plein air painting is one such ritual—a way of saying, “I see this moment, and it matters.” Even from afar, we feel the resonance. It invites us to slow down, to notice, and to honor the ordinary beauty that surrounds us, waiting to be witnessed. Paint It Fresh! Brings Breath and Brushstroke to Fort Wayne, Indiana As late summer light spills across the sidewalks of Fort Wayne, artists gather with easels and open hearts for the Paint It Fresh! Plein Air Competition —an annual celebration of spontaneity, place, and the healing power of art. Over three days, the city transforms into a living canvas. From the rustle of Headwaters Park to the quiet geometry of downtown’s brick facades, painters capture scenes not just with pigment, but with presence. The event, part of the "Taste of the Arts Festival," invites both seasoned creators and curious newcomers to paint in real time, outdoors, among the people and pulse of the city. “There’s something sacred about painting what’s right in front of you,” says Dana Lively, curator and longtime advocate for plein air art. “It’s not just about technique—it’s about attention. It’s about being here.” Highlights of the Competition This year’s competition includes: Live painting sessions across Fort Wayne’s historic and natural landmarks. Awards for Best in Show, Emerging Artist, and Community Favorite. A public art sale where visitors can purchase freshly painted works directly from the artists. Local businesses have joined the celebration, offering discounts to anyone who supports the artists. Cafés are serving “palette-inspired” drinks, and flower shops are pairing bouquets with miniature canvases—an echo of Koöko Fleurs’ own belief in ritual and renewal. The Impact of Community Engagement For many, the event is more than a showcase. It’s a reminder that beauty is not confined to galleries or grand gestures. It lives in the moment, in the way light hits a windowpane, or how a stranger pauses to watch a brushstroke bloom. The community engagement during Paint It Fresh! fosters connections. Artists and onlookers share stories, laughter, and inspiration. This interaction enriches the experience, creating a tapestry of shared creativity. The Essence of Art in Nature Art has a unique ability to connect us with nature. When artists paint outdoors, they immerse themselves in their surroundings. They capture the essence of a moment, reflecting the beauty of the world around them. This connection is vital, reminding us of our place within the larger tapestry of life. Plein air painting encourages us to appreciate the fleeting moments. The way the sun casts shadows, or how the wind rustles leaves—these details become part of the artwork. They infuse each piece with a sense of time and place. Conclusion: A Celebration of Creativity Paint It Fresh! is not just an event; it’s a celebration of creativity and community. It invites everyone to witness the magic of art in the open air. As the competition unfolds, we are reminded of the power of presence. We see how art can transform ordinary moments into extraordinary experiences. Join us in celebrating this vibrant expression of creativity, and let’s honor the beauty that surrounds us every day. For more information, visit Paint It Fresh! .

"Le Déjeuner” by Pierre Bonnard — a tender glimpse into domestic quietude, where color and memory intertwine in a moment of stillness. Musée d’Art Moderne de Paris There are moments in museums when time folds in on itself. I had one of those moments recently at the Musée d’Art Moderne de Paris, standing before Pierre Bonnard’s Le Déjeuner. A child seated at a table, surrounded by the quiet clutter of domestic life—a teapot, a vase of flowers, a plate half-touched. The colors hum softly, like a memory you didn’t know you had. I bought the postcard immediately. It felt like a piece of home. Bonnard doesn’t shout. He murmurs. His paintings are not declarations but recollections—fragments of light, texture, and emotion stitched together from memory. He rarely painted directly from life. Instead, he observed, sketched, and later summoned the scene in his studio, letting time soften the edges. The result is a kind of visual poetry: interiors bathed in golden light, figures half-present, and colors that seem to breathe. Born in 1867 in Fontenay-aux-Roses, Bonnard began his career studying law, but the pull of art proved stronger. He became one of the founding members of Les Nabis, a group of young artists who saw painting as a spiritual act. Influenced by Gauguin and Japanese prints, Bonnard developed a style that was intimate, decorative, and deeply personal. His wife, Marthe, appears in countless works—often bathing, often alone. But Bonnard’s gaze is never voyeuristic. It’s tender, almost reverent. He paints her not as subject, but as presence. In Le Déjeuner, the child is similarly rendered—not posed, but simply existing. The table is not staged; it’s lived-in. The flowers are not symbolic; they’re just there, blooming quietly. What moves me most about Bonnard is his devotion to color. He would return to canvases years later, just to add a new shade he’d discovered. For him, color was not decoration—it was emotion. It was memory. It was the thing that made the ordinary extraordinary. In a world that often demands spectacle, Bonnard offers stillness. His paintings remind us that beauty lives in the unnoticed: the curve of a cup, the slant of afternoon light, the hush of a room where someone once sat. Visiting the Musée d’Art Moderne de Paris was more than just an afternoon of admiration—it was a quiet encounter with the soul of Pierre Bonnard. His paintings don’t demand attention; they invite contemplation. Le Déjeuner stayed with me long after I left the gallery, tucked into my bag as a postcard, now resting on my desk like a gentle reminder: beauty often lives in the smallest moments. In a city that pulses with grandeur, Bonnard’s work whispers. And sometimes, it’s the whisper that lingers longest.

A Story About Artisana and Eco-Friendly Creation A long, long time ago—before factories and machines—people made everything by hand. They stitched clothes from wool, carved toys from wood, and wove baskets from grass. These makers were called artisans. They didn’t just make things—they made them with care, with stories, and with love. Artisana is like a treasure passed down from grandmothers, grandfathers, and gentle hands across time. Every stitch, bead, and braid carries a whisper from the past. When children create with natural materials, they join a big circle of makers—from mountain villages to seaside towns, from forest huts to sunny gardens. “Artisana is old as the wind and soft as a hug. It reminds us that our hands can heal, build, and remember.” Who Are Artisans? Artisans are makers. They don’t rush. They don’t copy. They create with care. Long ago, before machines and factories, people made everything by hand—clothes, bowls, baskets, toys. These people were called artisans. They stitched, carved, painted, and shaped things with love. “An artisan listens with their hands. Every stitch is a story. Every bowl is a hug.” Today, artisans still exist—in cozy studios, forest cabins, and sunny markets. They teach us that making something slowly, with heart, is a kind of magic. And when children create with natural tools, they become little artisans too. Artisanship and Art Therapy Once upon a soft morning, in a cozy studio filled with baskets of wool and pinecones, a child named Lila sat cross-legged on the wooden floor. Her hands were small, but they held something powerful: a round wooden hoop, strung with threads of red, blue, and orange. Lila wasn’t just weaving yarn—she was weaving feelings. “When we weave, bead, or build,” her art therapist whispered, “we take care of the earth with our hands and hearts.” Some tools feel cozy. Some feel soft. All of them feel like quiet magic. A wooden loom helps us weave our feelings into patterns. A sculpting stick shapes clay into creatures that carry our wishes. Embroidery needles stitch stories into fabric, while paintbrushes let our colors dance. Even scissors and safety gloves have a role—they help us feel strong and careful. These tools aren’t just objects—they’re helpers. They listen to our hands, and they help our hearts speak. Around her, other children stitched, sculpted, and assembled tiny treasures. One made a bracelet from fallen leaves. Another shaped a guardian creature from clay and feathers. The room glowed with quiet joy. Lila reached into her pouch and pulled out green beads—each one a memory. She threaded them gently, thinking of her grandmother’s garden, the sound of rain, and the time she felt brave. “In every loop and line,” the therapist said, “there’s a little magic. We connect to the earth—and to our own stories.” Artisana is a kind of healing. It’s making beautiful things with simple materials: pinecones, wool, yarn, wood, and recycled paper. It’s remembering how to be gentle—with the planet, and with ourselves. And so when Lila finished her weaving, she smiled. Not because it was perfect—but because it was hers. Artisana isn’t just about making things—it’s about making meaning. When children weave, sculpt, bead, or paint with natural tools, they’re telling stories with their hands. They’re learning to care—for the earth, for their feelings, and for each other. “Every thread is a whisper. Every tool is a friend. Every creation is a little piece of love.” And that love lives on—in bracelets, mandalas, clay creatures, and quiet smiles.