Pausing the Studio: A Journey Back to Germany with Kato
Pausing the Studio: A Journey Back to Germany with Kato
In just 8 days, I’ll be boarding a plane with my son Kato, heading back to Germany — my first long journey home in a while. It feels both surreal and deeply meaningful.
Life in the Yukon has been my sanctuary, my studio has been my place of making and mending, and yet, there’s something about returning to my roots that feels like closing a gentle circle.
Kato will return to the place where part of his story begins too — where I grew up, the landscapes that once shaped me before the wild beauty of the Yukon took over my heart. He’s been here before, but this time, at almost four years old, I feel he’ll see it with new eyes, a little more aware of the stories, the people, and the places that connect us.
This trip is more than a visit.
It’s a small pause from the day-to-day rhythm of my studio work: the quiet hours at my bench, the preparations for my very first market (coming soon in May!), and the constant hum of creative ideas. For a little while, I will trade the sound of saw blades and hammers for the voices of family and the memories of old streets and forests.
And, if I’m honest, this trip will carry a lot of emotions too.
It will include a stretch of time apart from Kato — the first time in his life that we will be separated for more than a day. It feels heavy, yes. But I keep reminding myself: the story will end well. I already picture the moment we’ll meet again in Cologne, and the joy of spending two full weeks together with my family. These are the moments that hold both tenderness and strength.
More than anything, I feel I need this break — deeply.
After the long, exhausting chapter of my breakup, my soul is craving rest and renewal. I know this time with my family will help refill my inner well. I will see my brother, my parents, and after ten years apart, I’ll finally reunite with my aunt and uncle from England. These are the kinds of moments that quietly stitch us back together. Quiet conversations over coffee, old stories, the warmth of being seen and held by the people who know you from the very beginning.
I also know that stepping away from my workbench will fill me with fresh perspectives. Traveling always does that. There’s a certain magic in distance — it lets me see my work, my growth, and my path ahead more clearly. I imagine myself, notebook in hand, scribbling ideas between train rides, or pausing to notice a beautiful texture or color that sparks a new design when I return.
To everyone who’s been following my journey, know that I carry your encouragement with me. And when I return, I’ll step back into the studio with a full heart and new stories to tell — both in metal and in ink.
Until then, I’ll try to soak in every moment: the familiar, the unexpected, and the quiet in-between.
With love from soon-to-be Germany,
Sophie
