Inside the Rainbow Charlie Studio: Making Space for Joyful Things
Most days in the Rainbow Charlie studio begin in the evening, once the house has quieted and my family is winding down for the night. I turn on the lights, set my tea within reach, and take a moment to notice what I left behind the last time I was here. A half-finished pair of earrings. A small pile of acrylic scraps that felt too interesting to throw away. Notes to myself that made perfect sense at the time.
There are finished pieces in this space, but there are also plenty of ideas that are still waiting. Prototypes that never quite became products. Experiments that taught me something and then quietly moved on. I have a habit of what I like to call productive procrastination, where making and tinkering take precedence over rushing anything out into the world.
More often than not, I stay longer than I planned. Not because I have to, but because I lose track of time when I am fully immersed in the work. Sleep is sometimes the thing I trade, not out of obligation, but because the joy of making feels worth it in those quiet hours.
What This Space Looks Like in Practice
The Rainbow Charlie studio is still very much a work in progress. I am in the middle of moving from a small corner of my garage into a dedicated creative space, which means not everything is where it will eventually belong. Some tools are exactly where I expect them to be. Others are still waiting their turn, tucked away in bins or lingering just outside the room, not quite ready to settle in yet.
Because of that, the studio does not always look the way it does in my head. Materials are partially unpacked. Systems are half-formed. I am learning what works as I go, reshuffling shelves and surfaces as new ideas take shape. Some nights I come in knowing exactly what I want to work on. Other nights, I let myself wander, revisiting a prototype or experimenting with whatever happens to be within reach.
There is no single finish line here. Designs evolve slowly, sometimes over weeks or months, as I test shapes, colors, and materials to see what feels right. I am just as likely to refine an earring design as I am to experiment with something entirely new, simply because curiosity nudged me in that direction. Not everything is meant to become a product, and that freedom is part of what keeps the work joyful.
This space holds a mix of structure and play, even in its unfinished state. There are systems beginning to take shape because they make the work easier, but there is also room to change course when something unexpected sparks interest. Some of my favorite ideas have come from nights when I set out to do one thing and ended up doing something else entirely.
In practice, this studio is less about productivity and more about presence. It is a place where I allow myself to move slowly, to experiment without urgency, and to trust that the right ideas will surface when they are ready.
Why Gentle Joy Matters
Lately, it has felt harder than usual to find spaces that do not ask something from you. Everywhere you turn, there is urgency, noise, and an expectation to keep up. Even creativity can start to feel like something that needs to be optimized, shared, or justified.
This studio exists as a small counterpoint to that. Not as a retreat from the world, but as a place where joy is allowed to be simple and unforced. The kind of joy that shows up in a color combination that works unexpectedly well, or in the quiet satisfaction of finishing something with care.
I do not come here to solve big problems or make grand statements. I come here to work with my hands, to laugh at my own mistakes, and to find humor in the little moments that only happen when you slow down enough to notice them. Those moments matter to me, especially on days when everything else feels heavy.
Gentle joy is not about ignoring what is happening around us. It is about creating space to breathe, to make, and to remember that creativity can be grounding. If this blog becomes a place where someone can pause for a few minutes, feel a little lighter, and leave feeling more connected than when they arrived, then it is doing exactly what it was meant to do.
This blog will be much like the studio itself. Sometimes polished, sometimes in progress, and always made with intention. It will hold stories, experiments, and small reflections from the spaces in between finished things. There is no schedule to keep and no expectation to perform, only an open invitation to linger for a while. If it offers a moment of calm, a spark of inspiration, or a quiet smile at the end of a long day, then it has done its job.
— Jet
