Still Life at the Table: Stories of Colour

I’ve always had a fascination with colour.

Not just how it looks, but how it feels—how certain tones can carry memory, emotion, and season. Colour theory has always fascinated me whether it’s styling a home or a tablescape: the way a palette can shape a mood, evoke a place, or tell a story without saying a word. How blue can remind you of salt air and hydrangeas. How red can taste like tomatoes in the sun.

A few months ago, I had an idea for a monochromatic tablescape series—each month built around a single hue, rooted in the feeling a colour can evoke around a specific time of year. But like so many creative sparks, especially for someone with ADHD and ideas coming at me constantly, it got tucked away.

I recently came across something that gave language to this connection I’ve always felt. Synesthesia is a neurological condition where stimulation of one sense leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in another—like seeing colours when hearing music, or tasting textures when reading certain words. 

Maybe I don’t have synesthesia in the clinical sense, but I think many of us carry a bit of it in how we experience the world. The right shade of something can unlock a memory. A single colour can conjure a mood. And that idea—that sensory experiences can blur and bleed into one another—is at the heart of this new series.

Strangely enough, the idea came back to me while listening to Conan O’Brien Needs a Friend—of all things. Jordan Schlansky (perhaps one of my favourite comedic enigmas to exist) was talking about how different countries have colours, saying France is a green country. Everyone thought he was ridiculous because well, he is. Normally. But, to me, words and places do have colour. Some feelings do too.I was totally there with Jordan and It reminded me of that old idea, just sitting there waiting.

And then I realized… I’d already begun. The tomato shoot was red—unintentionally, entirely red. Sun-warmed, unruly, late-summer red. And the spring shoot? It was instinctively pink, echoing the softness and sense of renewal that comes with the season.

So here we are: the beginning of a new series. Twelve tables, twelve colours. One for every season, every feeling, every subtle shift that happens with the inevitable movement in time. This series is a love letter to the seasons, and to the quiet magic when we gather around a table. Starting with...

This first edition draws inspiration from New England summers—where salty air clings to linen, sailboats drift lazily across the harbour, and everything slows down just enough to savour. 

There’s a certain nostalgia to it all: clapboard houses, weathered shingles, chipped enamel, and bowls of blueberries still warm from the sun. These are the textures and tones I’m drawing from—fragments of summer that will take shape on the table.

Whether you're styling your own gathering, dreaming up a shoot, or simply seeking a little beauty in the everyday, I hope this series offers a spark of inspiration—a reminder that a well-set table can hold more than just plates and glassware. It can hold memory, mood, and a feeling of place.