In a random order these are the things that happened in May. A month that was mostly spent on Maui with family and friends over a lot of delicious food. There’s a lot to say but I will just let the photos speak for themselves. Make up your own story, sometimes that’s fun too.

Every Monday at Matsumoto Studio is #matsumotomonday. A day that we take time on the blog to share a family story, something about ourselves or anything behind the scenes. When we started blogging daily, we had to figure out what we were going to talk about then if anyone was actually going to care. We realized it didn’t matter if we had 100 hits or zero. What did matter is that we used the blog to tell our story and remind ourselves where our ideas for Matsumoto Studio are rooted and that’s our family. Looking at what inspires us and how our designs have evolved we see a lot of Hawaii and a lot of history. We take what we know best, our culture and our heritage, and turn them into something we can share with everyone else. We hope that people are not getting tired of seeing these old family photos, because they are really what make up what we are today.

Today’s post is a photo from I’m guessing, 1991. Boy’s Day, when we actually all looked like boys. Jes had a bowl cut and I was in an army uniform—like what. I love these old photos  because a lot these memories, I don’t remember. These were the years that we lived in our first house upcountry. A lot of times, this also seems like a big blur. Pictures like this help to solidify the memory. They make it real again and make it fact that my siblings did indeed put me in that army uniform and wished my name was Justin.

I started realizing the impact of my family upbringing and how it affected my work as an artist and design while I was in college–away from home. Since then it has been fueling my ideas and dreams for what I create. Everything I thought didn’t really matter is starting to matter most. I imagine the rest of my career as an artist and designer will be driven by the appreciation and celebration of my home and culture. One day it will go full circle,  I will return back home to my roots and we’ll have Matsumoto everydays. Until then look forward to more throwbacks of three happy fat kids with bad hair cuts.

From a Sunday two years ago because Sundays are not Sundays if they are not also beach days.

Let’s do it again.

I was five years old. I don’t remember writing any of this, but thanks to my mom the memory saver, I know I did.  We didn’t hit China, we just got beat by science. It was my brother’s genius idea to dig a hole and in an attempt to fill it with water, pushing it further and further into the ground, where it got stuck. Live and learn.

In 1995 we had no iPads. We didn’t have smart phones and we did not have the internet. We got that in the next house we lived in. As children we occupied ourselves with things that took us away from the TV and into the “real world.” I loved playing in the backyard. It wasn’t big, or fancy. We didn’t have a play set and it wasn’t until our next house that I got a tree house! My childhood was filled of making my own adventures. Playing with the sand, water, and leaves from the trees I also talked to myself and made up scenarios in my head. Sorta sounds like I was crazy, but really I think these are the moments that tested how clever I could really be with the bare minimum.

Sorry for being the biggest water waster in Kahului that day. I’m not sorry for making the river, making my own adventure, and imagining I was somewhere else in the world while never leaving my backyard. I did all that before I had the internet.

We have to appreciate these pixelated, slow-moving photos FaceTime has to offer. One person who appreciates it more has to be G-Flo. Gramma Flo is 88 today and if it’s anyone who has seen technology change, it’s her. With only a radio, to the black and white tv, then color tv to using a cordless phone, then using a phone outside of your house, she’s come a long way in history. Let’s not forget about that thing called “the internet” that she doesn’t quite know how to use, but she can go  on YouTube using her fingers to select vids on the iPad easy breezy. Now she can even see me. In real time, over 5,000 miles away, not just on a computer, but a phone that fits in a pocket! Amazing.

Thanks to technology I was able to wish G-Flo a Happy Birthday and see her face when she saw me say it. I sent her mail, which she got on the day it was expected to arrive.  I was there last year for her big day, but this year I wasn’t as lucky. As G-Flo gets older, every year is a milestone. While I didn’t care much that I was gone for her birthdays while I was in college, now that I am out of college, working, and actually able to make the choice to be at home, I feel guilty when I am not. When I am at home, she complains I am not home enough to spend time with her, but she’s the one with the busy schedule. She’s gone during the weekdays going to “preschool” to keep that mind sharp and out getting her hair done or singing karaoke on the weekends.

I talk about my gramma a lot. She’s a big part of my life and probably the reason why I act like a grandma sometimes. G-Flo has taught me why I should be sophisticated and poised and not “blllllahhhh” and crazy. I can hear her little life tidbits in the back of my head even when I am not around her. It’s scary, trust.  I used to think “stop talking I’ve heard this like ten times already,” now I just let her repeat whatever she wants. She’s 88, the Queen, and can do whatever the F she wants. Happy Birthday G-Flo!

Behind Gramma Flo’s pink-lipped smile, is a one tough cookie. Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot of G-Flo. Maybe it’s because she’s been calling me from her cell phone requesting for a family photo I promised to print her a month ago.  Maybe it’s because I hear stories about her daily shenanigans from my mom and sister. Maybe it’s because I can’t believe she will be 88 years-old next month and still has the same brain and quick thinking I’ve known her to have. Mostly, I think it’s because I miss her. As bossy, headstrong, and demanding G-Flo is, she has always been loving, giving and my lifeline. She made me breakfasts, lunches, dinners, cookies, cake and jell-o too! G-Flo taught me how to fry an egg and will continue to tell me how I should be doing everything. I can probably credit G-Flo for turning me into the grandma that I sometimes am and that’s not surprise because she is, a grandma. She’s not just any grandma, she’s my grandma and I wish everyone could meet her.

My name in my sister’s phone is  “jen spoiled.” Do you think it’s because she thinks I’m not spoiled? Wrong. So I may have been treated with a little extra care growing up, but hey, that isn’t my fault. I am not only the baby of the family, but I am also a girl and if there is one person who spoiled me the most growing up, it was my Grandpa Takeji. I bring up my Grandpa today because today would have been his 93rd birthday.

Fully retired by the time I came along, Grandpa and G-Flo were my full-time babysitters. I enjoyed seven years of being “Grandpa’s girl.” He had two other granddaughters, but we definitely spent the most time together.  Ice cream? Of course. Chocolate Milk? Whenever I wanted. Driving up the mountain to see the horsies or to the fancy hotels just to people watch? A normal activity. He always spent time with me after dinner watching old shows on “Nick at Nite” like, “I Love Lucy” or “Betwitched.” I hated pre-school, so I got picked up early. When I started going to real school, my Grandpa picked me up everyday in his car, even though we lived less than five minutes away walking. He was always waiting at the fence, and I never waited for him. I was lucky. Fortunate to have so much attention given to ME. That’s why I am spoiled.

When my Grandpa passed away, I knew it was okay because it meant he didn’t have to suffer anymore. He had cancer and became very weak. I was young, but I understood he wasn’t getting better and things like that happen. My memories of him that I will never forget include the smell of his after shave and always having toothpicks and Ricola in his pocket. He made the pocket protector cool again and blamed G-Flo for distracting him every time he made a mistake.  He was tall and strong, and treated me the way every little girl wishes she was treated.  I was fortunate to get spoiled by Grandpa, but also learned to be independent after he left. When he was no longer around to tie my shoes, get me anything I wanted, or drop everything to help me, I was forced to learn to help myself.  I remember when I started doing “chores” after he wasn’t around anymore. I also started walking home from school (the horror), but everything was okay.

Many years later, I see how those first seven I had with him were very nurturing and grounds for me to be called spoiled. At a young age I lost something I was so reliant on.  I wish that he was around longer to see me grow up a little more–so that I could take my turn to do things for him. I may have continued to get special treatment in other ways, but that’s the job when you’re the baby of the family. I’m spoiled and now you know who started it.

Back in March, Jes and I found ourselves at home to celebrate G-Flo’s 87th Birthday. This year, more than ever, we have found our way home at the same time, for some time. This has all been thanks to Matsumoto Studio. Although we are in different places during the majority of the year, Matsumoto Studio, is the one thing that brings us together. Growing up five years apart, our age difference meant we were interested in different things. Now, that we are both older, we share so many similarities. We may have spent many years doing different things but at some point, they all collided.

Matsumoto Studio is just beginning. We are just at the shore getting our feet wet with the crashing waves waiting to jump in to the big ocean. Our similarities have become a strength for our sisterhood and now a small business. I am lucky to share something  with someone so close to me. We are sisters, so we have our moments, but it also means we have something special. We think similar things but differently enough to challenge, grow and push each other to be our best. That’s the best thing I could ask for in a partnership, better yet, a sisterhood.

Post-WWII, post-December 7, 1941. My gorgeous Grandma at 18, somewhere off the shores of Honolulu.

Ping: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Work”

Ping: “But you don’t have other work, except for me! …and the other guys that you babysit.”

A lot of my 2014, and the last three years has been getting to know this kid that goes by Ping. His Mama, Paweena,  and I met in school and I’m glad we did. The two of them and their +1, Eric, have become family here in NYC. When Ping tells me that he is my work, he’s right. However, I don’t see him as  work.  Ping has brought a lot of fun to my daily routine. He is honest, open, and lovable. He wears his heart on his sleeve. When he’s upset, I know it, but when he’s happy, he is beaming. He sometimes pulls the jerk card, but mostly not. After all, he is a kid so that is allowed. Working with and around Ping has been a challenge. Always making it to school by 2:30PM so he doesn’t have to wait in “office jail” for his lame sitter,  but at the same time working up to the very last second to make the most of the morning. Then sometimes sitting like a buddha at the school playground, laptop out and designing underway while soccer balls come a little too close to hitting my computer screen. I’ve taken phone calls while paying for snacks at the corner deli and sent e-mails from the free wi-fi at his fight school gym.

All of this has mostly been a blessing. A blessing that I am able to do my work, while spending time with a kid that reminds me about the importance of stopping computer time to make time to play a card game or think about all the powers of “mythical creatures.” Ping reminds me that it’s okay to eat Nacho Cheese Doritos because they are actually pretty good and that it is okay to break the rules. Ping reminds me to never set limits because there are none in his imagination. He tells me stories that make no sense and sometimes I just say “yeah sure” even though I can’t follow. Ping’s creative nature and fun-loving spirit is something I hope he never loses. He’s growing up to be a little man (with the guidance from awesome Mama and Eric)  and I’m lucky to witness greatness in the making.

Dreams come true when you make them happen. The world is our jungle gym, yet few of us go out to play. Then there is my friend Kara; dreaming and playing the life she wants to live, constantly seeking out somewhere she has never traveled–putting me to shame but making me so proud.

Finally a warm day in NY! Going to class with just a light jacket on never felt better. I also spent some time in evening with Charlie, the golden doodle on the UWS–nothing like a peppy pup to end the rough week.