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Not For Granted Studio
Not For Granted Studio
Not For Granted Studio
Not For Granted Studio

  • With young eyes, a bowl was the helmet of an elite warrior, an interstellar steering wheel, and an ocean bound vessel.
    Adulthood drained my bowl of the multiverses it contained and refilled it with soup.

    The serrated grapefruit spoon, the asparagus tongs, the long-stemmed cordial glass reserved for a liquid rarely drank. Beautiful, static prisoners of their own function, collecting dust because they were never allowed to be more.

    Imagination taunts hyperspecificity,

    can this

    be that?

    No vases, just vessels.
    For flowers, cocktails, grains, possibility.

    Imagination births infinite new lives from what exists.
    A practice of self-liberation
    of what we have, and who we are
    learning to be both

    For This

    And That

    Now I know that things are just Not For.

Philosophy

  • I forget who granted me nature, but it’s all I’ve ever known.

    It’s easy to love, lying in the sand.
    found in my curls two days later, shaken from totebags, a persistent gritty souvenir
    found again, sand, solidified as a glass jar on the counter.

    Sand still lingers, now in the mind. Habitats vanish to reveal the sand, liquified in infernos, surely someone else tracks it and I’d rather lie in that sand.

    As I
    am a nature lover.

    The jar, now empty. A funeral feels more fitting.
    But that’s weird,
    so no.

    Hovering over the recycling, something primal knows loss in discarding the jar,
    and
    it’s a great jar.

    Then,
    ice drops in. A drink follows. The glass returns to its origin, once sand from an ancient seabed, the roar of the ocean is alive in the liquid once again.

    What is honored is Not For Granted.

  • Design, practiced by my lineage, inspires this Practice.
    They granted me a name that means to give.
    This studio upholds my mandate: granting more life to what we have.

    Terracotta, white oak, vegetable tanned leather
    Can you feel the spirits pulsing along the grain?

    Surrounding us, daily monuments of these spirits,
    worthy of reverence.
    So we crusade for this respect by fighting uselessness
    armed with the imagination to repurpose, repair, and adapt to changing needs.

    Obsolescence obstructed.

    Until style, the reaper of utility, is tamed with dear memories. I fortify my heirlooms with each sip from my Grandmother’s etched floral-motif coupe glass to defy the fickle zeitgeist of minimal stemware.

    Trends are transcended as today’s treasures transform into totems for meaning.

    A place for study of these epic wonderings,
    A studio

NY Design Week 2026