 
/dʒəˈpæn.di/

"A mash-up of elegant Japanese minimalism and rustic Scandinavian functionality to create a feeling of art, nature, and simplicity"

I've been obsessed with japandi recently because it represents such an elegant representation of the power of artistic remixing. In this blended style, we expect to find a plethora of natural materials, muted colors, clean lines, and minimal, yet well-curated, furnishings. Japandi design isn't sparse, which makes it a canvas for differentiated expression — a mélange of sensations and subtleties that uniquely emerge, but only once. 

the quality of Danish coziness with the Japanese acceptance of imperfections. In a way, these are complementary opposites: where Japanese interiors are sleek, Nordic ones are rustic. The richer yet neutral colours of Japanese design help to keep the stark, crisp palettes of Scandinavian homes from feeling clinical or cold. 

﻿Lately I've been noticing myself being drawn to a specific type of person who fully embodies the japandi philosophy in what they do and who they are. I call these creatives “

, and I love it when someone isn't afraid to push the boundaries and bend the rules to mould new objects of expression. Bearing witness to someone deep in their craft is one of the most electrifying experiences in life. You feel the energy even more when you can appreciate the layers of unexpected creative choices, like biting into a decadent marbled cake. 

I think the essence of mixed media applies to both artistic expression and individual personality: someone who works as a programmer by day and a sculpturist by night is infinitely more interesting to me than being tunneled into a one-track professional pursuit. 

This might sound painfully obvious: of course a person with hobbies is cooler than someone without that depth! There's that 

at play: we find people attractive when there is a good contrast between detachment (to their vocation) and attachment (to their craft).

But just as japandi is more than rigidly applying cultural rulebooks, I think mixed media creatives operate in a similar unconventional way. They have the primal urge to brand the world differently, with wide toolkits and loud truths that only wire to their brain chemistries. In other words, a kind of quirkiness emerges that would be perceived as “super weird” to the masses (at first). But to them, it would be an injustice to suppress these viewpoints, no matter how cringe or convoluted they seem. 

If you're willing to showcase your personal quirkiness to the world, you've unlocked such an unexpected freedom. I've thought this for so long, but weirdness is such a strong personal moat in today's 

But owning your quirks is only possible if you've done enough inner digging to notice, accept, and embrace them. 

I keep coming back to this journal like a museum, tracing the breadcrumbs of my past selves and souls, wondering what newness sprouts at the stepped mountains of my writing. 

This archaeology of painstakingly scribing my emotions into this white void might be the most meaningless and meaningful act in my life, so I better keep at it.

To me, the intersection of elegant japandi and unexpected weirdness forms the holy grail of lived experience. Weirdness challenges homogenization and conformity. But it also does this really interesting thing where it opens up a window into the infinite — an estate of endless combinations of beauty and bounty. And isn't that the coziest yet most imperfect idea of them all?

﻿So this is my take on Japandi in motion, December in New York memoir edition: 

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