Certification of Participation Part I: Spaces
Hello June ❤️
Writing this from Italy.
View of Positano
If I could, I think I would start handing out “Certificates of Participation” to the people around me. I used to think these certificates were meaningless. I almost laughed at them, like, what is the point?
Living in this strange era, perhaps because of technology, adulthood, the pandemic, or simply the times we live in, I am beginning to see participation differently. I do feel that many of us are becoming more disconnected from real presence, real conversations, and real participation in our own lives.
Sometimes, I joke that I did not lose friends to people, jobs, or major life events. I lost them to Netflix, TikTok, social media, and endless streams of content. It feels harder than ever just to get someone out for a coffee these days. What I miss is not just the company, but the spontaneity. The unplanned conversations. The random meet-ups. The feeling that people were more available to life and to one another.
Somehow, we are all more connected than ever, yet increasingly absent.
I reminisce about how different things used to feel when we were younger, when we could spend hours sitting with friends after school, at void decks, in parks, wandering around without needing constant stimulation or entertainment. I miss how fully we participated in our own lives back then.
Modern life talks endlessly about efficiency and saving time.
Yet somehow, many of us do not quite know what to do with the time we gain.
As adults, participation no longer arrives automatically. No one asks us to try new things, no one insists that we leave the house, no one forces us to remain curious about the world.
Participation is an active choice:
A choice to stay engaged. A choice to remain present. A choice to create. A choice to feel. And sometimes, a choice to bring beauty into our everyday lives.
I have been thinking about how participation takes place in more ways than we often realize. We usually think of participation as something social, like showing up for conversations, friendships, communities, and experiences. However, participation can also happen more quietly:
In the spaces we create
In the environments we return to each day.
In the beauty we allow ourselves to live amongst
Perhaps participation in life is not only about going out to the world. Perhaps it can be as simple as creating spaces that feel more present that we can come home to ourselves.
The environments we return to every day quietly shape how we feel.
A calm room.
A soft corner.
Warm lighting.
Colours that soothe us after a difficult day.
These things may seem simple, but somehow, they matter.
Over the years, I have realised how much spaces affect my nervous system. Certain environments make me feel rushed, distracted, or depleted, while others seem to bring me back to myself. A calm room cannot solve every problem, but it can help me breathe a little deeper and feel a little more grounded.
As for my art, I never thought I would find myself drawn towards creating simpler, more aesthetic pieces, soft gradients, calming colours, works that are less about meaning-making and more about creating a feeling.
Especially when adulthood feels heavy, I find myself wanting to create art that gently supports people too.
Sometimes, art does not need to loudly say something profound.
Sometimes, it simply needs to soften a space.
To bring a sense of calm.
To help us feel a little more at home within ourselves.
Perhaps participating in our lives can begin there too.
In how we shape our private spaces, for a start.
In us allowing beauty, softness, and feeling into our everyday lives.
Choosing beauty is a form of participation
