I fell in love with an 1890s Acoma Pueblo vessel at the Art Institute of Chicago. Black-and-white medallions over a soft earthen form, meant for storing water. The positive and negative space felt like quiet breath between thoughts.

The artisans left intentional imperfections — a tradition called spirit lines in some Southwestern pottery traditions — so the piece could remain alive, touchable, daily. There's something humbling about that. A system, a pattern, a vessel: made to be used, not just admired.

Letting the vessel guide me instead of steering it showed me how much I enjoy watching patterns emerge without forcing them. That reminder — that utilitarian work can still be beautiful — feeds directly into how I want my systems to feel.