Modern Bonbons

Jax

The music always starts it; a bright 80’s beat fills my kitchen, and suddenly everything is in motion—cocoa butter melting, colors opening, my hands moving in an easy rhythm. I am testing shades and pairings, but it feels less like production and more like play.

And then a memory floods my mind…

A small bedroom. A miniature door to the attic. I am ten years old, drawn to that hidden space because it feels entirely my own. Inside are rows of little bottles filled with colored water, made from old Crayola markers, and cotton balls dipped, transformed, and carefully set to dry on a sheet pan resting over warm radiator pipes. There is no outcome in mind, just color, curiosity, and the quiet satisfaction of making something.

Back in my kitchen, my hands are still moving—the shells thin and glossy, the centers soft, layered, just set.

And I realize nothing has really changed—only the medium and perhaps my creative intuition has grown more refined, guided now by color theory and principles of design. This is not a new direction, but a return to a way of working that lives somewhere between craft and play, between intention and wonder—an atelier in the truest sense, where process matters as much as the result.

The colors are still everywhere. They always were.