Life, Values & Legacy: Our Chat with Joelle Benvenuto of Peninsula

Joelle Benvenuto shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Hi Joelle, thank you for taking the time to reflect back on your journey with us. I think our readers are in for a real treat. There is so much we can all learn from each other and so thank you again for opening up with us. Let’s get into it: What makes you lose track of time—and find yourself again?
After eighteen years of not painting, I picked up a brush again. At first, it was simply because I suddenly had time on my hands as i had crossed an invisible threshold and entered what I consider the third part of my life.
For context, I had just separated from my husband. My daughter had moved to another continent for college. I had abruptly lost a job that had shaped my identity for years. And I had just stumbled out of a situationship, learning at light speed how passion can thrill you, bruise you, and leave you feeling strangely unfulfilled.
I know, I know. Others face far worse. I have told myself that all my life, to the point where I never allowed myself to acknowledge my own suffering, however “small” it might seem. I have always craved freedom and passion. I always chased change rather than feared it. I love the idea of starting fresh. But suddenly, with so many possibilities in front of me, I was overwhelmed. And I panicked.

Drawing and painting saved me.

I had quit almost two decades earlier for one reason: brutal self-criticism. As a professional designer, I always saw the final image too clearly in my head, and when the result fell short, I could not forgive myself. I never painted for the process, only for the imagined perfection.

So this time, I started painting simple stacks of bowls, plates, and cups. Still life felt safe. Nothing symbolic, nothing ambitious. I did not have to overthink it. I simply piled them up and painted what I saw. Around drawing number ten, boredom arrived. That familiar designer instinct began whispering that I should make things more interesting. Instead of choosing a new subject, I decided to stay with it, almost stubbornly. I obsessed. I iterated. And something shifted.

The stacks began growing taller and stranger, dramatic shapes that could never exist in real life. They leaned and twisted in ways that defied gravity. They looked ready to collapse with the slightest vibration. And without noticing, I slipped into that state where time dissolves. The more impossible the stacks became, the more absorbed I felt. That is how I lost track of time, not through serenity, but through pure obsession.

People around me tease me with a smile and ask, “More pots again?” Yes, absolutely.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I was born in Brussels to Italian parents and dreamed of living abroad from the time I was fifteen. I was a little artist, not a particularly good one, or at least not confident enough to imagine a sustainable career in art, so I studied visual communication, photography, and video editing instead.

When web design began emerging in Europe, I jumped in immediately. I fell in love with the Adobe tools and discovered that creativity could live inside technology. At that time it was surprisingly easy to find work, so I followed my instinct. I joined a wonderful design agency and worked on projects that were praised by the professional world, which gave me a deep sense of confidence. I also allowed myself to take risks and joined innovative concepts like cyber cafés mixed with entertainment spaces, places where people gathered around computers the way they once gathered around jukeboxes. It felt wild and futuristic, and I was lucky to be surrounded by talented mentors who helped me develop my own voice. I even earned a few awards before eventually relocating to the United States, where I began managing design teams.

As I climbed the corporate ladder, I thrived on design strategy and innovative thinking, and I loved mentoring teams of junior designers and delivering impactful work. But I also I learned politics, competition, impossible standards, and stress levels that slowly disconnected me from what I had originally loved about design.

About five years ago, I started a small side project inspired by modern mid-century aesthetics. I wanted to create a line of jewelry that felt unconventional and colorful, something positioned between fashion and art. Then the pandemic arrived and, surprisingly, gave me the breathing time I needed to truly focus on it. I sometimes joke that we all need a second pandemic, although not really of course, but simply the kind of uninterrupted time that allows creativity to unfold without guilt.

What began as a simple experiment grew into a clear vision, then into a small business, and eventually into a real brand called Futurisnow. Today, my joy is to continue making these pieces every day and to invite customers into the process, since the designs are highly customizable and feel like small collaborations.

Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. What was your earliest memory of feeling powerful?
I must have been around twelve when my dad did something that completely surprised me. A worker was repainting the inside walls of our house, and I had covered my bedroom walls with a small and large fresco I painted myself. It wasn’t really allowed, I just did it anyway. At that age, I didn’t even know what a canvas was; the wall was simply there, calling for decoration.

A few days later, my father asked the worker to carefully detach the fresco so he could keep it. I had no idea he planned to do that; I must have been at school when it happened. Weeks later, he arrived home with an enormous framed piece, my fresco, reassembled from the wall like a giant puzzle. He unwrapped it in front of the family, and I remember standing there, stunned, almost not recognizing it because it suddenly looked like a masterpiece.

My father was not someone who praised easily, especially not for something as impractical as art. But that day, I felt proud, powerful even. Something I made was worth saving. That fresco has followed my parents to every house they’ve moved into since. It is still there in the little Brussels apartment, a small piece of rebellion and color that somehow survived.

Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
Almost, yes, but not quite.
I was completely obsessed with seeing my jewelry in museum stores. I wanted it so much that it became almost ridiculous. I would have done anything to make it happen. I spent years trying. I contacted every museum I could think of, sent emails, showed up with samples, and sometimes simply wore my pieces while visiting exhibitions, hoping someone would notice.

And of course, these necklaces are impossible to ignore, so people often stopped me out of nowhere. I would smile and say, “Oh, you like it? It is one of my creations. Tell me, would you buy something like this in the museum store?” It was a mix of field research and wishful thinking, my designer brain doing what it always does. Most people said yes, which gave me the courage to keep going.

But there were definitely moments when I nearly gave up. It felt impossible, like a door that would never open.
And then one day, I finally connected with the right person. You see, sometimes getting out of the crowd just takes a little luck. Once you are in, you are in. Things started unfolding quickly. Within a year, my pieces had made their way into several museum shops, and I remember thinking, is this really happening, or am I dreaming?

Today, my work is shown internationally. You can find my brand in places such as the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, the Whitney Museum in New York, the Phoenix Art Museum, and soon the Frist Museum in Nashville, to name only a few.

Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? How do you differentiate between fads and real foundational shifts?
Not everything that feels new is meaningful, and I have learned to tell the difference. As a designer and as an artist, I watch ideas evolve constantly. Some arrive with noise and urgency then disappear as quickly as they came. Others sink in quietly and begin to reshape how we think, how we create, and how we relate to beauty.
I have seen this pattern in my time working in technology and even more clearly while building my jewelry brand. The world of design moves through cycles of trends, hype, and sudden obsessions. When something keeps opening creative possibilities or touches people on an emotional level, it is more than a fad. It becomes part of a deeper shift.
That is why understanding the difference matters to me. Trends decorate the moment. Foundational shifts change how we see the world.

Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. Have you ever gotten what you wanted, and found it did not satisfy you?
Yes, and the real question, I think, is: do we ever truly chase what we really want? Most of the time, we chase what we think we want, or what we’ve been told we should want. So when we finally get it, it doesn’t always satisfy us.

Maybe satisfaction isn’t the goal at all. Maybe it’s the pursuit, the curiosity, the movement, the feeling of being alive while searching for it.

When I started my line of necklaces, rings, brooches, and earrings, I wanted to create something for everyone, but also something personal, customizable, intimate. I became obsessed with building a body of work that could express individuality through small variations of form and color. Until I reached that point, where the collection felt alive, like a living language, I didn’t feel satisfied.

And even now, I think the joy is not in reaching the destination, but in that endless act of shaping and reshaping what we love.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://futurisnowshop.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/futurisnowshop/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/FuturisNow

Image Credits
Joelle Benvenuto