BEHIND THE CALM
- Jul 20
- 6 min read
By Dagmar: collector of colours, textures and quiet moments, creator of stories that feel like home.
Even though summer has arrived here in the northern hemisphere, and many of you might be reading this from a sandy towel with the sun gently warming your skin, I hope this little story brings you a moment of calm. A few quiet minutes with a coffee, a glass of something refreshing, or perhaps simply a pause between summer adventures.
Because while the world outside is slowing down, I’ve been gathering new ideas, collecting little details, and finding my way back to the stories that make Linen & Wood what it is.
Enjoy the read...
The Story No One See Behind Linen & Wood
"I never imagined creating Linen & Wood would lead me into websites, Pinterest, moodboards and storytelling, but I'm enjoying every beautifully imperfect step along the way."
Looking back, it all makes me smile.
Because what you see today is only a small part of the story. The real journey happens quietly behind the scenes, and that's where I'd love to take you today.
There is something I find quietly amusing about creative work.
People often see the finished photograph. A carefully styled corner. A mood board filled with soft colours. A Pinterest pin that feels calm and effortless. A website where everything seems to have found its place.
What they don't see is the journey that led there.
The hours spent moving images around until they finally feel right. The notebooks filled with ideas. The photographs that never make it beyond my camera roll. The endless cups of coffee.
The tiny victories when one colour suddenly makes another come alive.
Creating Linen & Wood has become so much more than designing interiors.
Somewhere along the way, I discovered I was building an entire world around it.
A website that feels like walking into a peaceful home.
Pinterest boards that slowly grow into collections of textures, colours and stories.
Instagram, where I can share little glimpses behind the scenes.
And, somewhere in between all of that, a version of myself that has learned far more about websites, keywords and algorithms than I ever imagined possible.
None of it happens quickly.
And perhaps that's exactly why I enjoy it so much.
Every Moodboard Begins With A Feeling
People sometimes imagine that moodboards begin with a colour palette.
Mine rarely do.
More often they begin with something wonderfully ordinary.
An old olive tree, twisted by decades of wind.
Weathered linen folded on a market stall.
A photo of a pile of ropes during an early morning walk.
The quiet story written into a fisherman’s weathered face.
Or simply the way afternoon light falls across a wooden floor.
I collect these moments almost without realising it. One photograph becomes two. Two become ten. Before long they begin talking to each other, quietly suggesting colours, textures and materials that somehow belong together.
That, to me, is where every moodboard begins.
The Unexpected Joy Of Building A Website
If someone had told me a few years ago that I'd genuinely enjoy building a website, I probably would have smiled politely and changed the subject.
Yet here we are.
Of course, I love choosing beautiful photographs and writing stories like this one, but I've discovered I also enjoy the hidden world behind the website. The pages, the structure, learning how everything connects, and even solving those little puzzles when something simply refuses to behave.
Well... solving might be a slightly romantic way of putting it.
Sometimes it means spending hours, occasionally an entire afternoon, trying to convince one tiny, stubborn bug that today's the day we're finally going to get along.
There are days when building a business feels remarkably like untangling an old fishing net. You patiently loosen one knot, only to discover three more hiding underneath. Add a stubborn brick wall, me at the edge of jumping of a cliff and a few moments of hands-in-hair frustration, and you've got a fairly accurate picture of life behind the scenes at Linen & Wood. Thankfully, every knot eventually gives way, and every challenge teaches me something new.
It usually ends with me contacting the support team and attempting to explain, as clearly as I can, that "when I click this, I'd really like that to happen... except it doesn't."
More often than not, we've all disappeared down the same rabbit hole, trying to work out whether it's my imagination, the website, or some wonderfully hidden piece of code that's decided to have a day off.
And then... suddenly... we crack it.
The funniest part?
Every now and then the support team discovers it wasn't just me after all. I've managed to uncover a little bug or a feature that genuinely needs improving. There's a quiet moment of celebration, a virtual high-five all around, and someone jokingly suggests I should come and work for them.
I always laugh.
Then I politely decline...
Because I'd much rather spend my afternoons styling weathered linen than debugging websites.
There's something wonderfully satisfying about watching all those invisible pieces slowly fall into place.
It's not unlike renovating a home.
You carefully build the foundation, layer by layer, knowing that most visitors will never notice the work hidden beneath the surface.
And somehow... I rather enjoy that.
Apparently there's a tiny website builder hiding inside this interior stylist.
Who knew?
Pinterest... My Happy Place
Pinterest has quietly become one of my favourite places to share my work.
Creating a moodboard is pure joy.
Writing a thoughtful title.
Choosing just the right words.
Finding a photograph that captures not only a room, but a feeling.
Uploading a beautiful pin somehow feels like placing another little stone along the path that is Linen & Wood.
It's calm.
It's inspiring.
It suits the way my mind works.
Then Come The Other Socials...
And then...
There are the other social media platforms.
Let's just say my enthusiasm has a remarkable talent for wandering off the moment someone mentions reels, trending audio or keeping up with the latest algorithm.
It's not that I don't appreciate them.
I know they matter.
I know they help people discover my work.
And I love scrolling though others then just mine.
But while some people seem to effortlessly create three videos before breakfast, I'm usually standing in the living room wondering whether the afternoon light might look beautiful on an old piece of weathered wood. Or I'm rearranging ceramics for the fifth time.
I've realised something about myself.
I'm much happier creating than announcing that I've created.
Perhaps that's simply who I am.
Every now and then I gently persuade myself to post anyway, usually with a cup of coffee beside me and the quiet promise that once I've finished, I'm allowed to disappear back into styling, photographing or quietly working on my website or talking over the issues a client is struggling with.
That feels like a fair deal.
Creativity Lives In The Little Things
I've realised that so much of this work happens in places nobody ever notices.
Naming a photograph before uploading it.
Finding just the right words for a Pinterest description.
Choosing between two shades of beige that look almost identical to everyone except me.
Watching statistics that occasionally make absolutely no sense.
Celebrating when a moodboard suddenly reaches people I've never met.
It may seem like a collection of tiny tasks.
But together they create something much bigger.
Little by little, they become Linen & Wood.
Looking Back While Moving Forward
When I first started this journey, I imagined I would simply be sharing my love for natural interiors.
Instead, I've discovered that I'm also learning, experimenting, occasionally laughing at myself, solving website puzzles I never knew I could solve, building moodboards that tell stories before a single word is written, and finding new ways to connect with people who love natural beauty as much as I do.
It's been a journey filled with creativity, curiosity and more cups of coffee than I care to count.
And while the finished images may always look calm...
The creative journey behind them is wonderfully alive.
Beautifully imperfect.
And, if you ask me...
That's where the real story begins....
"...because behind every calm photograph is a wonderfully curious mind, a desk full of half-finished ideas, and someone who still gets excited by an old wooden door, a piece of weathered linen, or the perfect shade of sand. I suppose that's Linen & Wood after all."
With love,
Dagmar
Linen & Wood
