Jem DeSanti

July 19, 2026

Clearing the Decks

A week of recalibrating — the space, the stash, the schedule. Nature Creek Preserve, a wave pool, two days of IKEA, competitive birdwatching, and a crochet WIP audit.

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July 10, 2026

The Bob, The Banner, and the Tribune

Three weeks down, one clarification made, two dresses sewn, and a very good haircut. Also: Dark Parlour Society finally has its true identity statement, and the Oakland Tribune's microfilm has been visited.

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June 17, 2026

Permission to Rest

Four years is a long time to carry something. The divorce was finalized this week — the day before Otis turned five — and what followed was real rest: a quiet stay at the Claremont, a pool day, cake, and the first real movement toward Dark Parlour Society's in-person life.

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May 25–31, 2026

Something Is About to Happen

A production week, a first-ever trip to the Conservatory of Flowers, a Werner Herzog rabbit hole, and the quiet feeling that DPS Experiment No. 2 is about to go out into the world.

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May 24, 2026

Only Boring People Get Bored

A week of making, discovering, and being called out by Rutger Bregman.

The Bay provides. This week it was the Silent Book Club, caramel experiments (only the rose petal batch survived), sourcing jasmine tea and dried rose petals across Oakland, meaningful crochet progress, and a new DPS rubber stamp with the lily of the valley logo that turned out beautifully.

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May 11–16, 2026

No Pots, No Pans, No Sunblock

First Ever Dark Parlour Society Picnic

It has been one of those weeks that felt longer than a week in the best possible way.

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May 11, 2026

It Spoke to Me and I Answered

Oakland wandering, loaded machines, and an invitation among 6,000 roses.

A week of small movements adding up to something — a BART ride to a corset fitting, a thrift run that turned up a pulpit stand I cannot explain, an afternoon at Otto's working on May fortunes. The machines are loaded. The first Parlour Lawn Party is Saturday.

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May 1, 2026

The Worm Gave Me Permission

A worm, a train, a dollar, and a knob you turn.

April was my birthday month — 41, a solo Amtrak to Santa Barbara, a loft bed sold on Facebook Marketplace, and a bumper sticker worm that gave me permission to do the thing I already wanted to do. Go Wander is launched. The LLC is formed.

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April 1, 2026

A letter from the studio — and elsewhere

I've been on Instagram since 2010. What I didn't notice was how slowly the water was warming. So I left. On the other side: less influenced, getting clearer on what I actually like. Also — I'm renting my own space again. Small. Modest. Manageable.

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February 1, 2026

January 2026: Transitions

Embracing life's upheavals with introspection, fresh reads, an inspiring metalsmithing class and fitness gains.

I moved. I grieved. I joined a gym at 5:30am. My metalsmithing class at Richmond Art Center started — the teacher's name is Ricki, and I got to light copper on fire. The body and brain are both finding their rhythm again.

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January 1, 2026

What happened when I finally listened

How I spent a decade pushing against garment-making, discovered jewelry by accident, and learned to separate being an artist from running a business.

It's December 31st at 7:31pm and I've already attended and left my New Year's Eve party by myself. Now I sit on the couch eating leftover pasta, listening to jazz, thinking about what I want to make in January. 2025 has been one of those formative years.

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