Photos: Justin Chung
Interview: Leigh Patterson
What’s the first thing you do after waking up?
I drink ice water, which I find if I do first thing it kind of helps to wake up my brain. After that, most mornings I like to meditate and then take a walk around my neighborhood in the Berkeley Hills. There are deer that roam freely, and the homes around us were built in the ’60s and ’70s…it’s quiet, beautiful, and grounding.
What’s your go-to morning beverage?
I’ll make coffee in a French press with some almond milk. I try to not drink a lot of caffeine because it tends to make me feel anxious, but I like a pick-me-up.
What’s your preferred mug and what’s the story behind it?
It’s a chunky, wabi-sabi ceramic mug I found at a flea market in Oakland, probably made in the ’70s. My wife always calls it “Jereme’s mug”… it’s the one I always reach for.
Where do you usually drink your coffee…and is there a best seat in the house?
If the sun’s out, I’ll step out onto the balcony. But most mornings in the Bay, the fog is thick—you can cut through it with a knife. So my wife and I usually settle into our living room, which is filled with all the things we love: vintage furniture we’ve collected, an old Turkish rug, my hi-fi setup. We were intentional about making it feel period correct to the house: really lived-in, layered, reflective of our sensibilities. From the couch, we can see all the way across Oakland, San Francisco, El Cerrito, the Golden Gate Bridge. We sit there with our mugs before the morning really begins. It’s one of my favorite parts of the day.
How do your mornings intersect with your art practice?
I can’t just wake up and immediately start working. My creative rhythm doesn’t kick in until the afternoon, around 2 or 3pm, when the light is best in my studio. That window lasts until early evening, especially in spring and summer. In a lot of ways my routine in the morning—coffee, walks, sitting with my thoughts—is all building toward that moment of stepping into the studio. That time to center myself is essential.
How did painting first become a daily part of your life?
I started painting after a major health scare. A few years ago, I was told I was going blind in both eyes due to an infection that had damaged my retinas. I had two options: surgery or monthly injections, and neither guaranteed I’d get my sight back. I chose the treatments, which involved getting injections in both eyes every month for almost two years. Each time, I’d temporarily lose clarity: I was able to see color, but not form. It was disorienting. For the first 24 hours after each injection, my vision would blur almost completely before slowly returning to something closer to normal.
That first year was especially difficult. I was depressed, unsure if I’d ever see clearly again. Eventually, I started reading more, listening to podcasts, and doing anything I could to shift my mindset. I realized I needed to find a way to turn the experience into something generative. That’s when I began painting. I started with small, abstract florals: images that reflected how I was seeing the world at the time. Flowers were the first thing that brought me a sense of joy. Even in abstraction, they had presence.
Over time, the florals evolved into larger pieces and more expansive landscapes. Still abstract, but rooted in the way light and color registered in my field of vision during those treatments.
What colors have been showing up in your work this season?
My work is about how color feels and how it can shift a mood or memory. It’s interesting… I didn’t share the full story about my health until recently. It wasn’t embarrassment exactly, just something I needed to hold close. But once I spoke it out loud, something opened. Since then, this specific pink has been showing up in my work. It feels like a light. A kind of happiness.
During a recent trip to Mexico City, I kept seeing that same pink again, like the one used on the terrace of the Barragán house. It’s vibrant but moody. My palette usually leans toward earthier tones, olives, browns, rusts..but this pink kept calling to me. Leaning into it has felt like stepping into something new. I haven’t branched out into sculpture or other mediums yet, but this shift in color feels like its own evolution. I’m still most comfortable with brush to canvas, but this pink has become a way of pushing myself, and I’m really enjoying where it’s taking me.
What music has been playing on repeat lately?
I’ve been listening to a lot of Khruangbin which for whatever reason has felt really good right now. I also have a playlist I’ve been listening to that I made specifically for our house called “Evening in the Berkeley Hills,” which has everything on it from Sade to Mac DeMarco to Marvin Gaye.
