A Letter from the Editor
In 2019, life was very different. For all of us, we had no real idea of what the next few years would bring: what changes, large or small, traumatic or inspiring, would come from the absolute upheaval that was the ensuing period of time.
For me, 2019 was particularly different. I was teaching art and design at an elementary school in Brooklyn: my days were spent reading with 8-year-olds and facilitating their discovery of light and sound and, occasionally, the beauty of scrapping all lesson plans to just watch Planet Earth.
After those days would wind down, when the students were lethargic or dizzy with the thrill of Legos, I would spend my quiet time working on Pink Essay. In those days, we had about 4,000 followers on Instagram, which felt enormous for a teacher with a private personal account and very limited energy for creative endeavors outside of school.
But, even then, Pink Essay was something very special to me: a private place to escape, to try out new skills and creative iterations, to explore my growing love for the universality of furniture—the way it becomes a shared language, something for all of us.
In fall of 2019, I decided to start a newsletter. I spent my weekends and days off interviewing designers, collecting photos of their work, learning how to use InDesign so I could create a print layout.
In November 2019, the first piece of Pink Essay that lived offline was printed: a single broadsheet of newsprint with two interviews, a round-up of my then (and, for many, now) favorite designers, and three inserts: a legal-sized sheet of paper featuring an interview with the founders of the Chinatown mainstay Coming Soon, and two postcards, each featuring a piece of impromptu furniture I made with my friend Elysia.
I hosted a tiny party at the now-closed East Village location of vintage dealers Odd Eye (whose graciousness and invitation I will never forget), printed a few t-shirts with my first logo, and bought 12 bottles of wine. About 30 people came, and I was ECSTATIC
What I didn’t know then was that Pink Essay would still be going nearly four years later, surviving a terrible breakup, international move, and career change. But PE did more than survive. I gained a creative partner (shoutout to Anna, who carried us through many a storm and to who I owe an immense amount of our success), and then another (Matt - you are like a brother to me … I love you dude), and my dream grew to include a community of people around the world that shared this common belief: that a community for designheads meant something more than that we all liked furniture—it meant that, for us, furniture is a shared language … a form on which we can project our endless flow of ideas, our creative ambitions, our desire to give structure to our ever-shifting world.
As we launch our Designheads publication, a baby that will inevitably grow into something new and more exciting with every iteration, I am honored to work alongside a team of people who continue to give their time and creativity to growing the dream. Ally, Sahir, Juliyen, Sharlene—thank you for not only believing in the project, but for creating work that goes above and beyond what I could have expected. You all are so talented and, even more importantly, kind and engaging collaborators.
Enzo Mari is quoted as having said, “When the quality of form emerges, it goes straight to your heart. It has no need for justification.” Designheads, Wear Your Chair, Physical Education—Pink Essay is for all of you, the designheads community across the world: the heart of what we do. Thank you for all you’ve given to the project past, present, and future, and for always being down to talk about chairs.
All is full of love <3
David Eardley, Founder - Pink Essay/Designheads