The 2025 Atlantic Gift Guide

"My iPhone holds thousands of photographs of my 3-year-old son doing mundane things like eating an apple or holding a book while wearing Bluey ears. So, when I saw the artist Blu Murphy's "Red Line" series at the Eaton House in Washington, D.C., featuring Black children doing simple things-such as flying a toy airplane-I was mesmerized by the beauty, creativity, and innocence captured in the exhibit."

"Pottery is the antidote. The more particular the better. A perfect mug lets you marvel at the creator's vision. But you can also feel the indent from their actual finger on the actual object, the spot where they left a swirl or pressed in the handle. You can feel it every morning when you drink your coffee, and remind yourself that human beings still make beautiful things with imperfections that a machine could never replicate."

"And that people working outside the establishments of commerce or fine art sometimes prevail. Two of my favorites: Washington, D.C.-based Lauren Griffin, whose work is inspired by 17th- and 18th-century folk arts such as gravestones, sailor tattoos, and scrimshaw; and Minneapolis-based Ginny Sims, whose work "nudges the medium into places where form and function combine and blur," according to her website. I have no idea what that means, but her work is beautiful."

Blu Murphy's 'Red Line' series at the Eaton House portrays Black children doing simple activities like flying a toy airplane, conveying beauty, creativity, and innocence. Pieces such as School Leadership Award and Bobo's and Resistance evoke childhood memories through tactile details like 'bow bows' clinking. Pottery is an antidote to mass production; handcrafted mugs retain the maker's fingerprint, swirls, and handle impressions that machines cannot replicate, celebrating makers outside commercial fine art. Lauren Griffin draws on 17th- and 18th-century folk arts such as gravestones, sailor tattoos, and scrimshaw; Ginny Sims blends form and function. A book on Favela documents piñata-esque murals, sculptures, and installations that spark joy.

Read at The Atlantic