Welcome to our Journal. Here you will find personal musings + happenings + travelogues + outtakes. Feel free to check-in every now and then to see what we are up to.


They say New York City is a melting pot. But I imagine it more as a trifle, layers of people neatly stacked on top of each other. And some of those layers are hard to dig up.

Last January, in the inaugural throes of what was to be an interminably long winter, Adam and I had the privilege of once again collaborating with Kinfolk Magazine on the production of their latest release, Issue 8. The summer edition would be departing from its standard American fare to focus almost exclusively on Japanese culture and lifestyle, and given our city's international flagship status, we took on the assignment of featuring Japanese creatives who, like us, had decided to call NYC their home.

Except, then, we couldn't find any. At least, not any that were ogling for time in front of the camera.

I should clarify here and mention that we did meet a variety of talented Japanese individuals (many of these through Stephen of Sri Threads to whom we owe a tremendous thanks). But, as we soon found out, many of them were extremely reticent to broadcast their talent and success. This, in of itself, is extremely rare in New York. After all, this is a place where calling yourself a "promoter" is a legitimate career path and the first question out of a new acquaintance's mouth is "What do you do?" Clearly, New Yorkers, the adopted kind and the natural born, are not shy to talk about themselves.

We also faced the puzzling absence of a communal meeting point, a neighborhood, for the equivalent of a Chinatown, or Little Italy, or K-Town, does not exist for the Japanese community. One acquaintance attributed this to the transient nature of most Japanese in the city: they come to study or work and then, eventually, they leave. Those that stay often assimilate into the mainstream, thereby decreasing the possibility that a neighborhood, like the Polish in Greenpoint or the Puerto Ricans in Bushwick, will develop into a subculture.

Still, we persevered and with the help of our friends, convinced (and connived) six different and amazingly talented expats to let us showcase their work and lives. Below, we've assembled a variety of outtakes from the shoots we conducted with Ayaka, designer behind the eponymous jewelry line, Ayaka Nishi; Makoto Suzuki, famed Brooklyn chef who's on his way to building an empire of eateries in the borough (Samurai Mama being one of these); Hiroko Takeda, a textile designer; Risa Nishimori, heir to the Togei Kyoshitsu ceramic studio; Jun Aizaki, architect and founder of Creme Design; and Masamichi Udagawa, cofounder of the revered industrial design studio, Antenna Design.


Rachel and I are thrilled to have an 8 page spread in the latest issue of The Weekender. We've long been fans of this German based magazine that focuses on travel, nature, food and the home. So imagine our surprise when they reached out for us to do a follow up to our previous profile of Adrienne Antonson. How could we say no?

To purchase the magazine and see more images from issue 8, please visit The Weekender.


This past Christmas Adam and I flew the coop and went home to Spain. This is more my home than Adam's (I grew up there until age 18), but I have an inkling that Madrid, with its bottomless "cafe con leche," Tempranillo-soaked tapas and utter disregard of Daylight Savings, took this man of mine into its bosom. He may lack a certain shrillness when he speaks, but his "R's" are rolling.

For the past six winters I have made the homeward trek to be with my parents and siblings -- first from PDX, now mostly from JFK. At first, the re-entries were immediate and life, as it used to be, was easily conjured back. Now the process is more ragged, those Spanish colloquialisms suddenly blank, like the poster-less walls in my bedroom. My sister tells me the doors are closed once all of us leave. I suppose it's to keep out the dust.

Since there are four siblings, it takes a mathematical equation, a leap year even, to get us back together, especially now that the youngest is the only one in school. There are careers, spouses and soon-to-be spouses. It feels more foreign to write this than to hop on a plane and fly six hours. Still, there is one salivating constant throughout all of our comings and goings: the family dog, Mendigo (aptly named so for his beggarly, crumb-abiding ways). When illusions of adulthood become too real, I am comforted to know that this mutt is the only one to trigger any maternal instincts. Children of my own are still far off; I can relax.

This last Christmas Mendigo turned twelve. He is a fine-looking dog, no matter what the scoffers say, and he's borne his age with dignity. Only a smattering of grey hairs feathering his chin give his true age away. Still, the question lurks. Will he be the same when I return, God knows when? Will he still be scratching at the door when I bound up those familiar steps, by then a married woman? Will he still have a lap to call his home once I've made my home with another?

2013 bodes full of promise, but I still ask one more thing: Mendigo, please stick it out.


In early Spring 2012, Rachel and I collaborated on a shoot for Kinfolk Magazine. It was a welcomed change of pace for us to create content for someone else. The experience was very rewarding and we look forward to creating more content for Kinfolk.

If you haven't picked up the latest volume, please do. It would make a great stocking stuffer.

Bread provided by SCRATCHbread