Every year, for halloween, (NØ) cooks this surprise Potimarron. When October comes and the days shorten she brings home small potimarrons from her father’s garden. She prepares them the same way every year with bacon and mushrooms and parsley and béchamel for comfort… Come to see how she draws the ingredients in a notebook before…
In her softly lit atelier, (NØ) carries the weight of a season’s offering: pumpkins, swelled by the summer’s sun, grown by her father in the quiet hum of his garden. A ritual rises—sketching these hollowed forms, filling them with ink, pastel, watercolor, crayon, turning earthy gourds into living poems. Through each drawing, she listens—not just…
One morning, almost by chance, (NØ) folded a stack of paper.No plan, just the quiet desire to hold a moment—between soft creases, between gentle stitches.The tools awaited in a gentle line: pincette, scissors, puncher, ruler, glue—small gestures toward making something home.This is a little booklet, sewn by hand, born from the wish to gather blankness…