Food Studio

Today started with a meeting being cancelled, which created a bit of free time in my day, and instead of rushing off, I found a spot in the sun on a bench on the way back from nursery and listened to a podcast.

This Thursday, we are once again inviting everyone to gather around the long table at Losæter. This time, to honour everyone who, in their own way, has left their mark—big or small—on the co-creation of this place, which has evolved into so much more than just a location. It feels a bit as if the grassroots installed a magnet that pulls right at the hearts of those who truly care, are curious, and wish to understand, and that this force doesn't let go easily.

At this very moment, I am sitting in a packed café, while outside it is pouring down. The summer holidays were suddenly over; emails have started ticking in, and tasks suddenly have a deadline approaching. This summer, I have truly unplugged, given myself a proper break from everything, limited input and noise like news, social media, and mobile scrolling. We have worked both physically with restoration, carpentry and painting, made beds, and communicated with guests. But I have been very selective about what kind of input I wanted to take in.

Lately, I have been working on creating two collections for everyone behind the Future Library in Oslo. It has been an incredibly honourable assignment. To be allowed to dive into work with so much love, and to give care and love back to those behind it, is one of the finest invitations we have received this year.

Field notes from the process with us in Food Studio & Future Library. It has been a long time since I have felt that I could say "we" in Food Studio. There have been many years where I have steered the ship alone, cut costs down to a minimum and only said yes to commissions I knew I could deliver on my own.

A friend reminded me of this saying last Saturday, and it struck me that this was exactly where I stood. At that place where life really asks you to dance, and we are tested in our ability to meet all its facets. The conversation brought me back to the time when Beyoncé released the album Lemonade, and her process of turning the experience of infidelity into personal growth, resilience and healing.

Because the longing to belong to a tribe is real. I have been mulling over this question of language for a long time, because it is not a simple decision after 15 years, when you want to communicate in a way that feels close, honest and authentic, while also taking care of the relationships you have built outside your immediate circle at home. Most of all I think what I feel is the fear of rejection from the tribe, and that is a very real fear.