In a feat of luck that surprises both visitors and me alike, I live in one of those coveted, mysterious and oxymoronic L.A. neighborhoods: a walkable one. Truthfully (I feel almost guilty saying so), it’s more than walkable; my neighborhood is seemingly oriented around pedestrians rather than just accommodating of them. The main street that intercepts the end of my block is tree-lined and buzzing, with generous sidewalks, gleaming (and respected) crosswalks, and wide windowscapes just begging to be strolled and observed. And yet, it’s rare to find a storefront that compels me to pause and look, as so few display anything other than exactly what is on the racks inside.
For her window display at the new Toast store in West Hollywood, artist Kyna Payawal wanted to entice pedestrians to stay and linger. Her installation evokes what is perhaps the quintessential Angeleno celebration of spring: a shared picnic. Colorful ceramic fruits, vegetables and flowers mingle on a table covered with myriad serving vessels, all handbuilt in Payawal’s studio, which looks out into her abundant kitchen garden. There are odes to farmers market beans, Payawal’s favorite spring vegetable (the pea), and the woven baskets of her Filipino homeland. And of course there is a piñata, in the shape of a sun and studded with local dried pinto beans, to represent the most joyful of picnic activities. The name of Toast’s new collection, “A Shared Table,” was the catalyst behind Payawal’s picnic, and she was inspired by the brand’s indigo and tomato colorways and their relaxed, organic silhouettes. The tablescape is also a quintessential expression of Padma, Payawal’s art practice, which focuses on nourishing conversations and community through food, ceramic and textile craft collaborations.
With the rapturous cacophony this scene brings to mind, it is surprising to learn that Payawal created all of her pieces in silence. Listening to music rushes her work because she is tempted to sculpt or sew or cook to the beat. Instead, she tunes into the work itself. “There’s a real slowness in food and ceramics,” she says. The time it takes for food to grow and clay to dry requires that Payawal pay attention to her craft. “The attention then becomes this form of care and devotion for the work itself, for the land, and then for the people who touch it.” It is the gift of this slowness and attention that she wishes to impart to anyone who passes by the Toast window and accepts her invitation to share a picnic blanket.
I grew up in the Philippines and moved to Los Angeles about 16 years ago. Being Filipina American really shapes my relationship to food and to gathering and care. Growing up in the Philippines, when you enter someone’s home, their first question is, “kumain ka na ba?” Have you eaten? That’s just core to my existence and my DNA. Sharing and offering food has always been that love language that stayed with me. I went to the market daily with our yaya, and we would make fresh, home-cooked meals every single day. And I grew up in a large extended family, eating kamayan feasts together with our hands. We’d often visit our family farm, where my extended family raised pigs, ducks, chickens and whatnot. Experiencing that life cycle of knowing where my food comes from and watching my uncles do the butchering and then eating it the same day through slow roasting was really impactful for me as a kid.
When I got to L.A., I discovered the rich diversity in cuisines and cultures — Mexican, Latino, Persian, Armenian, Korean. I also started cooking for myself and was lucky to be surrounded by a big group of friends who cooked meals together. That was really formative and evolved my world. And the farmers markets here are crazy! We’re so blessed to have everything grow in abundance. The seasonal aspect of food was nailed down for me in L.A. Sure, stuff is always available, but when you go to the farmers market weekly, you then get to know, OK, peas are really in season for spring and tomatoes for summer.
I moved to this house during the pandemic, when people picked up their slow hobbies. Mine was gardening and it really stuck. Food is one of the most direct ways we can have an impact on the climate crisis. If we change, on a larger systemic level, the way we grow, distribute and decompose food, then we’ll be in a much better place. Gardening just made sense for me to learn how to grow food and eat it sustainably.
And then, of course, I love serving food and sharing food. I seeded the idea of creating Padma to gather people around to address food insecurity and sustainability. Padma was about bringing these kinds of conversations together in a nourishing space — like over a beautiful meal — to invite care and participation. Now I’m interested in how those same questions of sustainability live in everyday rituals like sharing food, making objects slowly and gathering in ways that restore connection.
Spring is my favorite season. I love it. It’s that season where you’re outdoors and paying attention to the native landscape, to the blooming and the fruiting of everything. You can smell it’s spring. And going out to picnic and just slowing down and getting lost in time with people outside is the best thing. For this Toast display, I was inspired to create a sculptural picnic scene inspired by the outdoor gathering cultures of L.A. and the idea of having a shared blanket. The picnic is one of the most accessible ways we come together across different cultures and share the beauty and magnificence of springtime blooming.
I opted for smaller pieces in the installation. They’re abundant — they fill the scene to get people to pause and pay attention to all the different aspects of the pieces. The colors are inspired by what grows in spring in L.A. The yellows are like the palo verde trees that bloom brightly in the streets. The reds are like the red poppies that wrap around hillsides. The textiles are all dyed with botanical dyes.
The teapot piece has pea tendril decor, which alludes to my favorite spring garden vegetable. The fruit cup and slices are a picnic staple from a Mexican fruit cart. The loquats are from the trees that bloom abundantly right now. The lily is one of the first flowers to bloom in spring. And then there are the vibrant lemons of L.A.
I wove the basket from my neighbor’s tree bark. It alludes to Filipino woven bilao — the big, circular ones with all sorts of fiesta food. I put some scarlet runner beans from the Hollywood Farmers Market over it to symbolize the gathering cultures of Native American tribes. In spring, they celebrate abundance, and my version of the bilao is a kind of offering to that.
The piñata was a collaboration with a family-run piñata house. It’s actually called the Piñata House, and I designed the sun sculpture, and then collaborated with them on making it. I added some beans over it, too. The piñata functions as a focal point into the scene as a whole, and alludes to one of the biggest gathering cultures in L.A., a very joyous scene of celebration. My hope is that it draws people in and invites them to slow down to look at the pieces, and then inspires them to say, “Oh, let’s have a picnic ourselves!”
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