It’s as if something only has worth if it refers to something else. That’s a kind of craziness! It’s always looking elsewhere for what is actually right here.

The more I think about it, the more I’m struck by how planning has its own aesthetics. It’s like curating our time the way we’d curate any visual space.

My wife went to the corner shop to pick up a few bits and came back with a gift for me, a squashed tin can. That’s odd, you might think, but not remarkable, that is till you hear the next part of the story…

I love the aesthetics of work, even desk work. It's even better with manual work. Clearing the table for baking bread, the leather apron, sprinkling flour onto the board…

I think I have 'aesthetic sensitivity disorder'!

Looking for the wabi-sabi aesthetic in Eddie the Van.

What if we were to see all of our activities, work and leisure, as taking place within a greater mandala of aesthetic appreciation?