Maker Spotlight Series
MAKER SPOTLIGHT SERIES
KATHLEEN KEENE JONES
Ceramic Artist
Artist Kathleen Jones at work in Smiley’s Art Room Collective
THE QUICK + FUN LOWDOWN:
Favorite travel destination or past trip? Zanzibar
Favorite book and/or movie? Book: Less; Movie: The Usual Suspects
Favorite artist(s), designer(s), architect(s)? Georgia O'Keefe!
What's always playing in your studio — music, podcast, silence? Music, ideally from the 70s and 80s or pretty much anything that fellow artist Joe Schafer puts on the in the Smiley Art Room!
Finish this sentence: "Making things heals me."
Tell us about yourself — who are you and what do you make/create?
I am a ceramic artist working primarily in hand-built sculpture. My work explores the tension between strength and fragility — how something can feel precarious and grounded at the same time.
I build forms shaped by the landscapes I’ve called home — deserts, mountains, tidal edges, geothermal springs — places where elemental forces are visible and unfiltered. My career in multilateral diplomacy deeply shaped my sculptural language; living in regions marked by both beauty and complexity taught me that resilience is rarely symmetrical or polished.
The pieces I create often lean, tilt, cluster, or hover. They are intentionally imperfect. Rough clay remains exposed. Surfaces shift from matte to reflective. I am interested in the quiet structures that hold things up — in nature and in people — and in the beauty that emerges through imbalance.
How did you first discover your craft — what was the spark or what drew you to it?
I studied ceramics in college, but clay reached me earlier than that. I grew up in the Southwest, spending part of my youth on ranches. That early connection to land — to soil, to heat, to material — stayed with me.
For a long time, my professional life moved in a different direction. It wasn’t until years of living abroad — in Afghanistan, South Sudan, the Dominican Republic, and the Gulf (United Arab Emirates)— that my sculptural voice truly took shape. The elemental landscapes and the resilience of the communities within them gave me something I needed to translate physically.
Clay became the way I processed those experiences. Earth turned by water, hardened by fire, touched by air — the material itself mirrors the forces I’ve witnessed.
Where do you source your inspiration? What sparks a new idea or collection?
Place is always the starting point.
A sandstorm reshaping a horizon. A tide pool holding fragments the sea has left behind. The way geothermal water rises through rock. The submerged stillness beneath clear ocean waters.
Each collection begins with an environment — and with the emotional tension that environment carries. Sandstorms became a study of disruption and renewal. Tideworn grew from the quiet basins left when water retreats. Pagosa was rooted in reverence for land and inherited memory. Submerged explored pressure, suspension, and transformation beneath the surface.
I don’t illustrate landscapes. I try to embody what they do.
Is there a person, place, or experience that has most shaped your creative path?
Living in regions shaped by elemental extremes and geopolitical complexity changed me. Afghanistan’s austere mountains. South Sudan’s White Nile. The Musandam Peninsula where mountains fall directly into the sea.
But equally formative were the quiet inheritances of the American Southwest — the springs of Pagosa, the cairns along a river, the knowledge embedded in land long before I arrived.
I have learned that endurance is never flawless. That lesson runs through everything I build.
What are you currently working on or excited about?
Right now, I’m working on a collection inspired by the geography of the Four Corners, specifically Antelope Canyon and Red Cliffs, called Carved by Light. I also have plans to make a collection inspired by Watersheds.
Is there a dream project or medium you'd love to explore?
I would love to create a site-responsive installation — something that interacts directly with landscape, light, or water. Work that lives outdoors, where weather becomes collaborator rather than threat.
I’m also intrigued by integrating subtle movement — not in a theatrical way, but in a way that deepens the sense of breath or suspended time within a piece.
How do you see your work adding to someone's home and collection?
In a home, I could see the pieces become quiet anchors — forms that invite you to walk around them, to notice shadow, to feel weight and balance. They shift with light throughout the day. They ask for a moment of attention, and in return, they offer steadiness.
I hope they bring a sense of groundedness — a reminder that strength can lean, that beauty can be asymmetrical, and that what endures is rarely polished.
FENG SHUI & SPATIAL ENERGY
Feng Shui & the Art of
Intentional Decluttering and Seasonal Living
Moving Energy:
Feng Shui & the Art of
Intentional Decluttering
BOHEME DESIGN HOUSE · SPRING 2026 · JOURNAL NO. 07
In the mountain West, where seasons demand we move between stillness and motion, the principles of Feng Shui resonate in a particularly grounded way. At its core, this ancient practice is not about decorative symbolism — it is about how energy, or chi, moves through a space. Clutter blocks it. Open, intentional arrangement invites it. The result, when done well, is a home that feels like a deep breath.
The word "Feng Shui" translates literally to wind and water — two forces that, by their nature, flow freely. Rooted in Taoist philosophy and more than 3,000 years old, Feng Shui was originally used to orient buildings and burial sites in harmony with the natural world. Over centuries it evolved into one of the most enduring frameworks for understanding how the spaces we inhabit shape how we feel, focus, rest, and connect.
Today, it's finding renewed relevance and not just among those drawn to eastern philosophy. Modern psychology, environmental design, and neuroscience are increasingly confirming what Feng Shui practitioners have always known: clutter increases stress, light affects mood, spatial layout influences behavior, and balance — visual and physical — improves clarity of mind.
Understanding the Foundation
What Chi Actually Means — and Why It Matters Here
Chi (also written as qi) is the life force energy that, in Feng Shui philosophy, flows through all things — people, objects, architecture, and landscape. In a home, chi enters through the front door and moves through the space along natural pathways. When those pathways are open and unobstructed, chi flows freely, and the people living within the home tend to feel energized, clear, and at ease. When they're blocked — by furniture pushed against walls, piles of unsorted belongings, or rooms that feel heavy and still — chi stagnates. And stagnant chi, in practical terms, often manifests as fatigue, friction, or a vague sense that something is off in a space you can't quite articulate.
In the San Juan Mountains, where the natural world is the constant backdrop, this idea of energy in motion has an almost literal quality. The valley winds that move through Durango in spring, the way light shifts across the Animas corridor through the day, the dramatic seasonal contrasts of this landscape — all of it speaks to a place that is never static. Our homes, when designed with awareness, can honor that same quality of movement rather than resist it.
"A cluttered home often mirrors a cluttered mind — leading to overwhelm, indecision, fatigue, and stress. You don't need to believe in anything mystical to see results."
— Gathered, Feng Shui Rules That Will Transform Your Home, 2026
Where to Begin
Decluttering as Practice: The First Act of Moving Energy
Before any furniture is moved, any element introduced, or any color placed on a wall, Feng Shui asks one foundational thing of you: clear the clutter. This is not a metaphor. It is the single most impactful act available to anyone who wants to shift how their home feels, and it costs nothing but time and honesty.
Clutter, in Feng Shui terms, is not simply mess — it is unmade decisions. Every object that sits in your home without a clear purpose, a designated place, or genuine emotional resonance is a small weight on the energy of the space. Multiplied across a household, those weights become significant. They produce the low-grade friction that makes some homes feel draining rather than restoring.
The approach is simple, if not always easy: move through your home one area at a time and apply a single question to every object — does this earn its place here? Not "could it be useful someday," not "was it a gift I feel obligated to keep," but does it genuinely belong in this room, in this life, now. Objects that answer yes stay. Objects that don't are donated, stored, or released. What remains is a space that has been curated with the same intentionality we apply to a well-designed room.
About This Post
Part of the Boheme Design House Spring 2026 Journal — a seasonal series exploring the ideas shaping how we design, collect, and inhabit homes in Southwest Colorado.
Key Principles at a Glance
Chi flows freely through open, unobstructed spaces
The entryway is the Mouth of Chi — begin here
Clutter is unmade decisions; clear it first
The commanding position fosters calm and security
Five elements: Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water
Sightlines to the landscape are sacred in mountain homes
Seasonal clearing honors the rhythm of mountain life
“One beautiful, intentional object beats ten competing for attention every time. When you live in the mountains and nature, the view is your anchor — let everything else support that.”
Starting Small — The One Move That Changes Everything
Feng Shui does not require a renovation, a new furniture budget, or an expert consultation to begin working in your life. It requires only attention — the willingness to walk slowly through your own home and notice how it feels. Where does your body tighten? Where does it relax? Where does your eye snag on something unresolved, and where does it rest with ease?
Begin at your front door. Clear everything that has accumulated there this winter. Oil the hinges if they squeak. Replace any burned-out bulbs. Set one beautiful, living thing — a plant, a small vessel, a stone from the trail — just inside the threshold. Then stand in the doorway and breathe. Notice whether the space invites you in or creates resistance.