Category: WHAT ARE WE DOING? (Rafi And Klee)

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Wait, What? They’re Throwing Us a Fundraiser?!

It’s been a while! we’ve missed you!

Lately, my hands have been full—like, covered in paint full. I’ve been working on a mural for a new brewery opening in town, and it’s been equal parts exhausting and energizing. There’s something kind of magical about working on location, immersed in the environment, knowing this big, colorful piece of art will be part of a space where people gather, laugh, and raise a glass.

I’m actually smiling in this picture…. not sure what happened there.

Because of that, I’ve backed off from posting. Not just social media and YouTube, but blogs too. I’ve been laser-focused on the mural and, honestly, it’s been good for me. After taking such a long break from painting, it feels really good to be knee-deep in creativity again. However, a group of amazing people have been working really hard to support us, and I need to share this.

On top of that, Klee is on the mend—thankfully. We’ve still got some healing to go, but things are looking up, and we’re slowly finding our way back into the rhythm of creating together. Emphasis on slowly. We’re not rushing anything this time.

Klee feels awkward wearing a mask when we go places, but her system is Immunocompromised due to the medications.

It might still be a while before I’m regularly posting again. I might share more about that in a future blog, but let’s just say this: having a large audience is an incredible thing, and I’m endlessly grateful for the love and support we receive. But sometimes, when you’re not in the strongest emotional place, even one small comment can knock the wind out of you. Let’s just say, we weren’t getting back to normal fast enough for this person.

Honestly, we thought we’d bounce back quicker than we did. We kept telling ourselves, “Just a couple more days, maybe a week,” but life had its own timeline. Sometimes the road back is more of a slow, awkward shuffle than a triumphant sprint. I have no apologies to give. It is what it is.

In the meantime, our creative friends and supporters are hosting a fundraiser for us. So, I’m feeling awkward about writing this… but there are a lot of amazing people I want to say thank you to.

If you know me (and Klee), you know we’re not exactly great at being on the receiving end of support. We create, we teach, we encourage, we lift up. That’s our comfort zone. We’re used to showing up for the creative community, not having the creative community show up for us. To be honest, we are pretty hard headed and stubborn about it to our own detriment sometimes.

As a lot of you already know, last December, Klee was hospitalized and we had to cancel our holiday show. It hit us hard. People have shown up. In the most beautiful, humbling ways. A lot of you reading this are those people, and words cannot express how loved and grateful we feel.

She is such an inspiration in how she’s handled this whole thing.

Artists, friends, local galleries, people in other states and countries, even people we’ve never met in person… they’ve reached out, offered help, and reminded us that we’re not alone. Our friend Jamie (a powerhouse of kindness and organization) told us a while back that a fundraiser was being put together for us. Her words: “You’re not allowed to say no—we already started.”

Cue me and Klee standing there with wide eyes, stunned, awkwardly grateful, and honestly on the verge of tears.

At one point, when I was telling her I wasn’t comfortable with it, she asked, “Would you be part of a fundraiser to help artists going through what you guys are going through?”
Without hesitation, I said, “Absolutely.”
And she just looked at me and said, “See? Let them do this for you. They love you guys.”

And that’s when it hit me. It’s about love, community, and the beautiful messiness of being human together. Being vulnerable, appreciative, and accepting the love.

And now it’s actually happening. The “Me and It” Paint N Sip fundraiser are happening in a few weeks. You get to paint your own little quirky monster, sip on something tasty, hang out with incredible humans, and support this crazy creative life we’re trying to keep afloat.

It feels vulnerable and strange. But we have some serious thank yous to give.

This is my exhibition at the Manos gallery, Ernesto put this together because he is awesome!

To Ernesto at The Manos Gallery – thank you for being such a force for art and for saying yes to every idea that helps lift people up.
To Jamie – our extraordinary friend and gentle bulldozer of good intentions. You never let us hide.
To Rachel – local artist, mega-talent, and literal sunshine in human form. You make everything brighter.
To every artist donating their time, energy, and art – thank you for believing in us. For being willing to lift us up when we needed it, even though we were too awkward to ask. There are so many to name… We are astonished.
And to our Patreon Community – oh my goodness. Thank you for sticking by us through this entire rollercoaster ride. Through the pauses, the chaos, the raw moments, and the quiet in-betweens—you’ve been there. Your support has kept us going when things got really, really hard. We don’t take that for granted, not even for a second.

We still feel awkward. We still feel like we don’t deserve it. But we’re trying—trying to receive with open hands and full hearts.

Klee is finally starting to feel better. The new treatment seems to be working (she’s been off steroids for three days, and so far, so good!). I’m back on mural duty. We’re slowly finding our way back to our creative rhythm. And in the middle of all that, we get this gift—a reminder that we are seen, loved, and supported.

I don’t have fancy words for it. Just… thank you.

— Rafi (and Klee)

Here is more info on the events

🎨 Paint & Sip at The Manos Gallery (Tarentum, PA)
🗓️ Thursday, July 25th at 6:30PM
📍 The Manos Gallery
Come hang with us in the gallery space and create your very own “Me and It” monster with paint, good vibes, and a splash of BYOB magic.

🎨 Paint & Sip at Core Goods (Oil City, PA)
🗓️ Saturday, July 27th from 2–4:30PM
📍 Core Goods
This one includes snacks, laughter, and a Chinese auction with art donated by local legends. Tickets are available at Woods and River Coffee.

Want to get involved? Contact:
📧 Manosgallery@yahoo.com or rachelsart@gmail.com

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Life, Health, and the Art of Slowing Down… Finally

I wanted to give you all an update on what’s been going on in our world lately—because if you’ve noticed we’ve been a bit quieter than usual, you’re not wrong.

First and foremost, Klee’s health has been our main focus. She’s been on new treatments, and while we’re optimistic, the healing process has been slow-going and unpredictable. Some days are better than others, and we’re learning to navigate that reality one day at a time. The bottom line? We’re keeping things close to home and prioritizing peace, health, and sanity.

We are still waiting to see if the treatments are helping

This week, I officially stepped away from a gallery we signed on with last August. It’s a fantastic space just outside Pittsburgh, and it honestly felt like a big deal when we joined. But right after that, Klee got sick, and we started pulling back from gallery events, meetups, and the bigger out-of-town plans that used to be second nature. We haven’t seen the space in nearly a year.

And while part of me feels gutted to walk away from something that had a lot of potential, I also feel… relieved. Because here’s the truth: we’re used to going a million miles an hour. We’ve always had a packed creative studio schedule, weekly podcasts, weekly videos, blogs, updates, meetings, responsibilities—you name it. Our days are usually full steam ahead with little sleep and a to-do list that reads more like an epic saga than a manageable plan.

I’m SO proud of her!

These days, that lifestyle just isn’t sustainable. Not right now. And I’m doing everything I can to avoid slipping into full-blown overwhelm mode. We already run a multi-layered creative business, I’m currently painting a giant mural, and we’re co-running the new Makerspace in town (which is an exciting beast all on its own). Add meetings, community events, and the Creative Entrepreneur Conference we just spoke at—yeah, even a grocery run can feel like planning a wedding.

So we’ve slowed things down. A lot. And it’s been kind of amazing.

I’ve been focusing on the mural project (which, let’s be honest, is enough to occupy every last corner of my brain for a while). It’s keeping things financially steady—for now—and more importantly, it’s all I have the bandwidth for. The workaholic in me is having a minor identity crisis over the idea of not doing a million things at once, but I’m choosing presence over panic. For once, I’m not teetering on the edge of burnout. That’s new. And I like it.

That wall behind me will start to become a mural soon!

Stress is something we’re both keeping a close eye on because, as we’ve learned, it’s a major trigger for Klee’s symptoms. So eliminating stress has basically become a part-time job (with full-time benefits, honestly). We’re doing what we can, day by day, to make space for healing, creativity, and peace.

So that’s where we are. No wild announcements, no dramatic exits—just two artists doing our best to create, care for each other, and be present through the chaos. We’re still here, still making things, and still showing up in whatever way we can.

Thanks for riding the waves with us. We appreciate you more than you know.

With love and less stress,
Rafi and Klee

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Klee Getting Back Out There on Stage At CEC

Last weekend, Klee and I had the honor of being part of the Creative Entrepreneur Conference, where we hosted not one, not two, but four workshops! We covered everything from pricing art, marketing, festival set-ups, to photographing art. It was our second year being invited to speak to a room full of amazing creative humans, it was a blast. On the surface, it might look like we’re seasoned speakers, perfectly comfortable standing in front of a crowd, dropping knowledge bombs with the ease of rock stars on a world tour. But… it’s not that simple.

Believe it or not, Klee and I are actually extremely shy. I know, I know, we do livestreams, run a YouTube channel with hundreds of videos, have done countless art shows, and spoken at multiple events, interacting with hundreds of people over the years. You’d think we’d have it down by now. But the truth is, we don’t put ourselves out there because we’re fearless marketing machines. We do it because we are constantly challenging our fears. The only way to really overcome fear is to face it head-on by doing the very things you’re afraid of doing. So, every time we step in front of a crowd or a camera, it’s not just an event—it’s an act of rebellion against our own anxieties.

This year, however, was a little more challenging. Klee is still recovering and getting treatment for her illness, and if you know anything about UC, you know it is not fun. It can really throw a wrench into your plans, your day, your everything. Stress doesn’t help matters either. It’s been months since we’ve been to a social event. In fact, since December of last year, we’ve been total hermits—recovery, healing, and navigating symptoms became our world.

But last week, we decided it was time to shake off the cobwebs of isolation and venture out. We went to an Artist Mixer at Clifford’s and ran into some beautiful familiar faces. We knew that breaking the safety of our induced hermit mode was going to be a challenge—especially when stress and emotions can cause symptoms to flare up. We managed to stay for an hour, and it was awesome to reconnect, even though some of Klee’s symptoms flared up after. So, when we looked ahead to a six-hour-long event as our second outing, it was anxiety-inducing, to say the least.

But Klee, being the total badass she is, decided to face it head-on. She started focusing on what she appreciated about the experience instead of what could go wrong. She thought about meeting creative humans, having an adventure with me, and feeling proud of stepping outside her comfort zone. Instead of dreading it, she began to look forward to it. I do the same thing. Honestly, it’s way too easy to dread upcoming things, especially if they fall outside your comfort zone. Your brain is going to run scenarios in your head anyway, so why not choose your own adventure instead of letting old, stressful programming take the wheel?

When the event came, it was incredible. Some of our amazing rogue community were there, and it was so good to see familiar faces. One of our awesome Rogues even drove across the state to be there and gifted us with some absolutely stunning art. We also got to see old friends, meet new amazing creatives, and the event organizers, as always, were phenomenal. Best of all, Klee’s symptoms didn’t even make an appearance. I call that a win!

We are slowly getting back out there, little by little, but we’re doing it our way. We’re navigating Klee’s healing with patience and self-compassion. It’s great to have challenges and overcome them, but it’s also important not to bite off more than you’re ready for. It may take a few months—or more—to fully get back out there, but the journey matters more than the timeline. It’s about enjoying the ride, facing the challenges, and feeling damn good about what we do.

We’re hoping to be back at the Creative Entrepreneur Conference next year, stronger than ever. Until then, we’ll keep choosing our own adventure, one brave step at a time.

Here’s to overcoming, growing, and doing it all our way—because that’s the only way that matters.

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Running On A Treadmill And Getting Nowhere?

You ever have one of those weeks where life is like a treadmill that’s been cranked up to 10, and someone tossed a balance ball into the mix for funsies?

Yeah, welcome to my current reality.

Every day starts with a check-in on how Klee is feeling. The good news: she’s nowhere near the state she was in when she was hospitalized. The not-so-good news: things are still not exactly back to “let’s dance around the house with breakfast tacos” normal. We’ve got two appointments this week, some bloodwork, and what feels like seventeen and a half meetings.

Klee At Her Treatments

Also on my plate: taking photos of the mural wall, a meeting about the Maker’s Space, and all the “normal people stuff” like groceries, post office runs, and pretending I know what day it is.

Oh—and we did our taxes.

Which took three days.

Three days of staring at numbers, receipts, spreadsheets, and questioning every decision I’ve ever made. As self-employed artists, this annual ritual also involved handing over a large chunk of our already fragile and whimpering bank account to the government. Nothing quite says romance like “Hey babe, want to cry together while we pay taxes instead of paying ourselves?”

Computer Problems Don’t Help Matters

Meanwhile, the mural deadline is galloping toward me like a caffeinated buffalo, my book launch has officially been pushed back (again), and other potential sources of income? Yeah—they’re all simmering gently on the backburner until we can find five spare minutes and the mental capacity to deal with them.

And somewhere in there, I’m supposed to be a calm, inspired artist?

Listen. I had a moment last week—I’m not gonna lie—where I considered quitting everything. Just peace out, mic drop, vanish into the forest with a sketchbook and a backpack. Between Klee’s health, my mom being in the hospital, family drama, and the cold slap of Tax Season, I was done. Toast. Overcooked microwave burrito done.

People say “make art about it!” And sure, I do. Eventually. But when I’m overwhelmed? I don’t go all Van Gogh about it—I shut down. Like, buffering-circle-over-my-soul kind of shutdown.

Then April 12th rolled around—mine and Klee’s 12th wedding anniversary. I wanted to write something beautiful about her. So I started looking through photos of our life together, all the adventures we’ve been on, the ridiculous and wonderful things we’ve done. And then that side of my brain—you know, the one that’s kind of an asshole—whispered, “Things will never be like this again.”

And that, my friends, is the kind of emotional sneak attack that doesn’t get talked about enough. That quiet, creeping grief of the negative asshole that lives in your head. That voice that tries to tell you the best is behind you and your future is fudged. It’s emotional BS, but it feels real when it hits. And it’s exhausting.

Circa 2009. Klee And I Traveling The Country In A 1992 Ford Explorer

The truth is, we don’t talk enough about how emotionally draining it is when someone you love is unwell or you are going through some crap. It’s like your brain is trying to organize your life while also juggling “WHAT IFs” and “ANXIETY” and “GUILT PANCAKES.”

And here’s the real kicker: even with everything Klee’s going through, she’s the one reminding me to take care of myself. She’s helped me figure out ways to rest, to slow down, to breathe—and let’s be honest, sometimes she has to force me to do it. Which is wild, because whatever emotional storm I’m feeling? It’s probably tenfold for her. She’s been the lighthouse in the middle of all this chaos, even while weathering the storm herself.

Klee is a true BADASS!

But here’s the part that matters most: I’m okay. Really. I know… everything I listed is really dramatic and sucks, but I’m not going anywhere. I might slow down a bit and be less active in the world for a while, but I’m good with that.

Because I’ve learned—sometimes the hard way—that if you don’t make time to process what you’re feeling, your brain will schedule it for you at the least convenient moment possible. (Usually while starting your day with a hot coffee or trying to fall asleep at night.)

So here’s a list of What I Actually Do When Life Feels Like Too Much:

1. Say the Quiet Part Out Loud

I talk to myself like I’m a friend having a breakdown over tea. Not judgmental. Just real. “Dude, this sucks. You’re allowed to feel how you feel.” Don’t bottle it up—let it out and give yourself the advice you would give someone else.

2. Micro-Wins Are Still Wins

Sometimes the big stuff feels impossible. So I focus on the tiniest thing I can do. Showered? Win. Answered an email without screaming? Champion. Took a walk and didn’t think about taxes the whole time? MVP.

3. I Remind Myself Who Is Boss

The negative voices in your head can be convincing because they are coming from your own head. But at the end of the day, they are just concepts and ideas you may have picked up along the way. I ask myself, “is this thought empowering or disempowering?” If it is disempowering I reframe it. For example. “Things will never be like this again between you and klee.” Of course things will never be like that again, that was one phase of our lives, we are constantly growing and evolving together and are much stronger now than we’ve ever been. So, “Things will never be like this again between you and klee because they are getting better and better every day.”

4. I Don’t Force Creativity—I Invite It Later

When I’m in the thick of it, I don’t pressure myself to be brilliant. I let art come to me after the storm, when the lesson or the light starts to peek through the clouds. That’s when the magic happens.

5. I Remind Myself This Is Temporary

Every moment of chaos feels like forever, but it’s not. It passes. Even when it’s hard, I whisper to myself, “This is not the end of your story. This is just a weird-ass chapter.”

6. I Laugh. Even If It’s Inappropriate

Humor is a rebellious act of hope. It’s flipping the bird at despair. So yeah, I laugh at the absurdity of it all—because what’s the alternative? Crying over expired milk? Instead, Klee and I enjoy stand up comedy and joke with each other all the time.

7. I Reach Out to Klee (Even When I Don’t Feel Like It)

Sometimes I want to close up into a ball and isolate myself. I want to avoid talking about my feelings because I don’t want to add anything to anyone’s plate. That is not going to work for anyone involved. So I talk to Klee and try to be very honest with everyone about where I am and how I feel. I’ll write a blog to get my feeling out and process things. I don’t bury it which goes against my upbringing as a man. I was taught that you never show weakness and that you always keep a strong front, and I did that for most of my life. I can honestly say, that is the dumbest advice I have ever heard. You either face your emotions or they eat you up from the inside out and eventually come up to the surface in one way or another.

So, this is how I’m dealing with things. I’m no expert, just figuring it out for myself as I go. So, if you’re in a season of holy crap, you’re not broken—you’re just human. A wildly creative, emotional, beautifully complicated human.

And if you need to sit in a blanket burrito and do nothing today? That’s allowed.

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Confessions of an Artist: It’s Not All Paint and Zen Over Here

So you bought some art from us—or you’re thinking about it—and you’re wondering, What kind of magical, mysterious life must these creative souls lead? You probably imagine us floating around our studio in paint-splattered robes, sipping herbal tea while a string quartet plays softly in the background, right?

Wrong.

Let me give you a more accurate picture of life as an artist:
I’m wearing mismatched socks, my beard looks like it lost a fight with gravity, and there’s a very real chance I just stepped in paint that I thought had dried three hours ago.

Here’s what it actually looks like behind the scenes:

I talk to my art. Like… full-on conversations. If you walked into my studio at the wrong time, you’d hear me saying things like, “Okay, why are you being weird right now?” or “You better dry the way I asked you to.”

My studio is both a sanctuary and a war zone. There’s beauty and inspiration… right next to three coffee cups, a stack of half-used sketchbooks, and something I swear I meant to clean up last week.

Art doesn’t make itself. It takes hours of experimenting, failing, trying again, yelling at the canvas, getting a sudden stroke of genius at 2 a.m., and occasionally celebrating with spontaneous victory dancing that would scare off visitors.

But here’s the cool part:

Every piece I create has a little bit of that chaos baked into it. Every painting, sculpture, or design is a visual diary of what was happening in my world at the time. That green smear? That was the day I discovered I really like mixing that particular shade—right before spilling it down my shirt. That texture? The result of a glorious accident I now call “intentional.”

Art is how I process life.
It’s how I scream into the void.
It’s how I say thank you, WTF, and I love you—sometimes all at once.

And when you collect a piece of my art, you’re not just getting something to hang on your wall.
You’re getting a story.
A messy, beautiful, perfectly imperfect moment frozen in time.
You’re getting a piece of the weird little world I live in—a world where emotion becomes color, mistakes become magic, and creativity is the only rule.

Now let’s talk about Klee.

You may think that because she makes beautiful fine jewelry, she floats through the studio like a Hallmark card come to life. But let me assure you—Klee is also part of the chaos.

Hanging out in the studio with her means a soundtrack of hammering, the occasional “ok, F#%K!” when she drops a tiny gemstone, and singing loudly to whatever random music is playing—everything from vintage soul to hardcore rock. We listen to all of it. There are sawing noises, torches firing, and the occasional flurry of metal dust.

She talks to the jewelry too.
“Nope, you’re not sitting right.”
“Ohhh, you’re gonna be SO pretty.”

It’s a beautiful symphony of metal, flame, laughter, and the occasional muttered curse as we crawl on the floor looking for something that’s smaller than a breadcrumb but somehow costs as much as groceries for a week.

And that’s what makes her pieces magical—each one carries that same spark of intention, emotion, and ridiculousness that defines life in our studio.

Also… I just want to say thank you.

If you’re a collector, a supporter, a fellow art-lover who’s ever invested in what we do—whether you bought a piece, shared a post, or sent an encouraging word—you’re part of this story too.

You help make this messy, paint-covered, fire-and-hammer-fueled dream a reality.
You help keep the lights on (and the coffee stocked).
You give this wild creative life a purpose beyond the studio.

So, if you ever wondered what it’s like to be an artist—it’s this:
It’s unpredictable, hilarious, deeply personal, sometimes exhausting, occasionally ridiculous, and totally worth it.

And if you’re reading this while eyeing that piece you’ve been thinking about… just know, it probably has a story that includes at least one emotional breakthrough, one great song, and possibly a near-miss with a flying paintbrush or a flaming torch.

Thanks for being part of the magic.

—Rafi

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Klee Health Update And My Brain Is Drowning in Molasses

So, I started this blog wanting to only update you on Klee.

She’s not been feeling the greatest lately, and our schedules have been disrupted quite a bit again. Luckily, we will hopefully be taking care of her symptoms soon. It’s been a slow road with some weird twists and turns — one of those “didn’t we already do this?” kinds of journeys. We both feel like this has been going on for a while… because it has. But we also know it could be worse, and we’re grateful that we have the ability to get her care and keep moving forward.

Her smile is infectious, but she’s been having another flare up that will hopefully get taken care of soon.

The problem is that while the shit is hitting the fan, the world doesn’t stop spinning. It just keeps turning — bills still show up, emails keep coming, and your to-do list looks at you like, “So… you free now?” If we expect to keep doing what we do — making art, writing, performing, surviving — we still have to do stuff. Even when our brains are yelling “Nope!”

So, I’ve got a bit on my plate right now.

And by “a bit,” I mean my plate is less like a standard dinner plate and more like one of those massive Renaissance fair turkey-leg-and-stew platters… with a side of existential dread and a giant dollop of “What the hell am I even doing right now?”

Currently, I’m working on a mural design that keeps giving me the creative equivalent of a middle finger. I stare at it. It stares back. Nothing happens. We are in a tense standoff, and I think it’s winning.

Balancing this mural with everything else has been kicking my ass.

I also have a commission I haven’t started. Not because I don’t want to… but because every time I go to start it, my brain says, “WAIT! Before we do that, let’s panic about literally everything else first.”

Then there’s the studio. Oh, my beautiful, chaotic studio — where half-finished projects go to nap under a fine layer of dust and forgotten inspiration. It’s like a museum of creative procrastination.

And don’t even get me started on YouTube and Patreon. I love them. I do. But lately, trying to keep up with posting has been like trying to do yoga in a hurricane. Upside down. On fire. Luckily, our community doesn’t care how long it takes us to come back as long as everyone is healthy and happy. We really have an awesome online community.

Also… I feel fat. I know that’s not something technically “on my plate” (unless you count the jam on bread I may or may not have eaten at 1:30 a.m.), but it’s there, and it’s loud. Apparently, the brain likes to throw in some bonus self-judgment when things get overwhelming. Thanks, brain.

And another thing on our plate? Helping bring the Makerspace to life here in town. It’s an awesome project, something we’re super passionate about, but unfortunately, we had to postpone meetings in March and haven’t been able to do much more than squeeze in a little time here and there. It’s one of those long-game efforts that we want to give our full attention — but life, man, life has other plans lately.

Oh, and my book? Yeah… that was supposed to release at the end of March. Well… that’s today. And it’s not happening. The book is still coming — just not today, not while the universe is running on chaos mode. As much as I want to celebrate it and do it justice, today I’m just trying to remember what day it is.

Book is ready… I just need to upload and format… it’s sooo close!

If I’m being honest — and let’s just be painfully honest here — I’m overwhelmed. The kind of overwhelmed where when my phone buzzes, I let out a sigh so deep it probably registers on a seismograph somewhere.

Because I know it’s another thing. Another ask. Another task. Another opportunity for me to feel like I’m going to let someone down.

The main issue, though? I’m distracted. Klee’s health has taken a bit of a downturn. Some symptoms are creeping back in, and as always, my focus shifts to her. That’s how it’s always been — my heart is with her, period.

This week she’s got another surprise appointment, and they’re starting her on a new treatment. Oh, and just to keep things spicy, we found out we need to go in for more blood tests. These are the little surprise curveballs that pop up when healing is happening. The healing part is good. The constant schedule disruptions and unexpected doctor visits? Not so much.

We have become very familiar with waiting rooms.

And while I’m pouring my energy into making sure she’s okay, my brain is yelling, “HEY! WHAT ABOUT BILLS?! ART?! DEADLINES?! THE MURAL THAT KEEPS GLARING AT YOU?!”

Now, here’s the thing… I did this to myself.

Well, not the Klee-getting-sick part — but the mountain of projects? The overbooked schedule? The infinite to-do list? Yeah. That was all me. In a perfect world, this workload is manageable. It’s the thing I do. But we’re not in a perfect world — we’re in a world where the faucet leaks, the yard turns into a jungle, and family stuff likes to show up unannounced, like a sitcom neighbor with emotional baggage.

I know this all sounds dramatic, and maybe I shouldn’t be writing a blog post while smack dab in the middle of feeling overwhelmed… but here I am. Typing away. Because the truth is, moments like these are weirdly valuable. They remind me to slow down. To stop trying to juggle flaming swords while riding a unicycle on a tightrope of anxiety.

And the worst part? When I get into this state, I become less productive, not more. I start doom-scrolling, reorganizing paint jars, watching obscure YouTube videos on how crayons are made, or questioning whether I should just quit it all.

See, you’re not the only one.

Everything feels like I’m trying to run through molasses. With bricks tied to my feet. While carrying all my unfinished paintings on my back. Wearing a very stylish, yet impractical, anxiety hat.

Here I am in my gallery space that I haven’t visited in months… this is an old picture… I still haven’t visited.

But here’s the thing: I know this feeling. I’ve been here before. And I always get through it. Eventually, the fog lifts, the molasses thins, and I remember that I am, in fact, capable of doing hard things — just not all at once, and definitely not while trying to run on empty.

So, if you’re also feeling like you’ve got too much on your plate — like your brain is a glitchy browser with 42 tabs open and your mouse keeps freezing — I feel you. Deeply.

Take a breath. Be kind to yourself. Make a dumb joke. Throw a pillow dramatically. Do one tiny thing. Then maybe another. And if all else fails… pretend you know how to slow down even if you think you don’t know how..

Stay rogue, stay ridiculous, and above all — don’t give up, just slow down a bit. Even if it feels like you’re drowning in molasses.

Love,
Rafi

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Get Your Mind Right Before Lack Of Time Runs Off With Your Sanity

Have you ever looked at the clock and thought, “There’s no way that says 4:30… I JUST woke up, how did I already lose a whole day?” Then you think, Wait. Did I even eat today? Did I actually send that email or did I just think really hard about sending it while staring at the wall in a stress-induced fog?

Yeah, same.

Time can be a punk-ass. And when you’ve got a lot going on—like trying to run a business, care for someone you love, show up for your community, be a functional human, and maybe, just maybe, wear socks that match—it tends to vanish like your favorite paintbrush when you’re on a deadline.

As some of you may know, the last couple of months have been… intense. Since December, we’ve been on a medical roller coaster. Klee was dealing with a mystery illness that sent us to emergency rooms and hospitals more than I care to count. After more tests than I knew existed and enough medical jargon to rival an alien abduction manual, we finally got a diagnosis: IBD.

Not the coolest acronym out there, but hey, we’ll take answers over mystery any day.

There was a period where Klee was completely bedridden—over a month. And during that time, the studio? Shut. Down. Hard stop. I tried to juggle things as best as I could, but let’s be honest: my number one job was taking care of Klee. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. But wow, time evaporates when you’re in caretaking mode. Days turn into nights turn into… what month is it again?

Now that Klee is doing much better (like walk-around-the-house-and-sass-me-lovingly-again better), I’ve been trying to fire up the engines and get back on track. Except… the track has been buried under a landslide of emails, projects, ideas, commitments, art supplies, and half-written to-do lists that say things like “do the thing!!” (What thing? Why didn’t I write it down??) or my favorite “review the L…” (What the heck is L??).

Here’s where it gets spicy.

Yesterday we went to her second doctor’s appointment this week, and I found myself sitting in the room with her doctor and blurting out, “Why am I so tired all the time?” Yep. I hijacked the appointment. I mean, it was already in session. Might as well throw my brain into the ring.

The diagnosis?
Stress.

Not like oh-you-need-a-bubble-bath stress. No, this was low-grade-anxiety-is-your-new-best-friend stress. The kind that’s sneaky. It doesn’t announce itself. It just quietly robs you of your sleep, motivation, and ability to string together full sentences without accidentally including the word “aaaaaaarrrgh.”

Not only has my mind been focused on Klee’s health (with its unpredictable ups and downs) and getting the studio running again, but I’ve got a mural commission that’s been absolutely kicking my ass. I’ve got a painting commission that I haven’t even touched yet. A gallery I haven’t communicated with in far too long. A makerspace project I’m trying to help organize but keep feeling like I’m failing at. The gutters need fixing, the yard looks like a jungle, and the list of home repairs is growing like it’s auditioning for a reality show called This Old Stressbox.

Oh, and did I mention our bank account is shrinking faster than my patience on a Monday morning?

It’s… to… much.

It’s not just the busy-ness or things that need to get done. It’s not even just the pressure. It’s the internal weight I’m carrying—the kind that comes from fear. Fear of letting people down. Fear of dropping the ball. Fear of losing the momentum I worked so hard to build. Fear of showing up as less than perfect (which, let’s be honest, has never been my vibe anyway, so why the heck am I stressing about it now?).

When your mindset is clouded with that kind of pressure, time doesn’t stand a chance. It feels like it’s slipping through your fingers, but the truth is, you’re so busy mentally time-traveling to all the things that might go wrong, you don’t get a chance to live in the moment that’s actually happening.

So here’s what I’m reminding myself right now (and maybe you need to hear this too):

  • Your worth is not determined by your productivity.
  • You’re allowed to drop the ball sometimes.
  • No one is actually expecting you to be a magical octopus of perpetual motion.
  • You cannot pour from an empty cup. Especially if your cup has been hijacked by a doctor’s appointment and your emotional support coffee is cold.

I’m working on being kinder to myself. Recalibrating. Finding the small moments of calm in the chaos. Sitting outside with Klee and a cup of tea, talking about something other than logistics. Reminding myself that it’s okay to pause. To rest. To take a breath before I run full tilt into the next “important” thing.

Time isn’t going anywhere. But your mind? That needs care. That needs compassion. That needs space to just be without constantly trying to do.

So if you’re feeling overwhelmed, burned out, or like the clock is mocking you every time you glance at it… pause. Take a second. Take ten. Check in with your mindset. Because if you don’t, time won’t just feel fleeting—it’ll drag your sanity down the hallway like a bad horror movie.

And none of us need that.

Love ya. Stay rogue.

—Rafi

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Emerging from the Studio Cave: A Wild Adventure into the Real World

Picture this: Rafi and Klee, two artists who spend an absurd amount of time in their creative lair, cautiously venturing into the outside world like long-lost explorers rediscovering civilization. This time, the grand adventure? Klee’s doctor’s appointment.

Now, in case you didn’t know, leaving the studio isn’t something we do lightly. There are variables out there—things like other humans, unpredictable traffic, and gasp the weather. And speaking of weather, let’s just say Pennsylvania was throwing some real mood swings at us lately.

Blizzard apocalypse. Snow drifts. Ice patches. The kind of cold and snow that makes you question all of your life choices… or whether you’ll ever leave the house again.

This is mostly what this winter has looked like. It’s beautiful (from inside)

Today? Absolutely gorgeous. Like, did we just step into a completely different timeline? The sun was out, birds were singing, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, we didn’t have to worry about frostbite just from existing. We even dared to crack a window in the car and blast some music. Reckless, I know.

The Doctor’s Verdict: Optimism and Good Vibes

We’re happy to report that Klee’s appointment went really well! We’re still in the monitoring phase with her medication, but everything is looking good, and we’ll be back in a couple of months for a follow-up. The doctor was optimistic, and so are we. Woohoo!

Afterward, we celebrated with the traditional “Let’s get home as quickly as possible” ritual. (Because if you brave the outside world, you must reward yourself with expedited coziness, right?)

Big Congrats to Last Month’s Raffle Winner!

Before I forget—huge congrats to Michele Young, who won last month’s raffle: a video call with us! We can’t wait to have an awesome time chatting, laughing, and hanging out virtually. (Yes, we are just as weird and ridiculous in real-time as we are in our videos. You’ve been warned Michele.)

**New Raffle: Win Some Uplifting Art! **

STAY TUNED! NEW GIVEAWAY COMING SOON!

This month, we’re giving away something special—an artist-enhanced 12×18-inch print of “3 Little Birds” mounted on wood! This is one of my special prints that I hand create. It’s valued at $85, and the drawing will be held on March 30th at 10PM Eastern. I will announce the winner on April 1st!

If you need a little positivity, color, and good vibes in your life (or you just love winning awesome stuff), make sure to enter!

So that’s the update from the great beyond—we survived the outside world, Klee’s doing great, and the weather has finally stopped being a drama queen. We’ll see how long that lasts.

Until next time, stay awesome and keep creating a magnificent life!

Rafi & Klee

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Back in the Studio and Still Forgetting Why We Walked into a Room

Well, hello you awesome human you! I’ve got an update for you. The year started out feeling like we got shoved into a washing machine set to extra spin cycle—but I am beyond happy to report that Klee is BACK in the studio and feeling much better!

Now, we still have a doctor’s appointment next week where we’ll get the next set of instructions. It’ll either be awesome wisdom or looking at a chart while making vague humming sounds (you know what I mean). But the good news? So far, so good!

Us at the hospital for a bazillion times

The Delicate Balance (That Was Absolutely Annihilated by Life)

As you probably know, Klee and I balance a ton of creative stuff. We do art, murals, music, videos, podcasts, books, workshops, a Patreon membership, and occasionally remember to eat food. Our creative business runs like an elaborate juggling act, except the balls are on fire, someone keeps throwing in new ones, and gravity is unpredictable.

But then… BAM! A giant wrench fell out of the sky and CRUSHED the entire operation. And when I say “wrench,” I mean the kind that makes you question your entire existence while standing in the kitchen, staring blankly at a fridge that you know you opened for a reason but now have no clue why.

We’re just now picking up the pieces and putting things back together. Are we nailing it? Almost. Do we still walk into rooms and immediately forget why we’re there? Also yes. But I have faith that by next month, the balance will be restored, and I’ll stop opening my email inbox only to immediately forget why I did that in the first place.

Look at that beautiful creature at her bench!

So How Do We Balance So Much Creative Stuff?

Ohhh, I’m so glad you asked because I love talking about this! Balancing a creative life isn’t about having a perfectly organized schedule (hilarious, right?)—it’s about understanding your energy, priorities, and what actually keeps you moving forward. Here’s what helps us:

  1. Know What Absolutely Needs to Get Done First
    Not everything is equally urgent. Some things need to happen now (book deadlines, mural projects, feeding ourselves), while other things can take a backseat (reorganizing the entire studio because “it feels off”). Prioritize wisely.
  2. Make Creativity Part of Your Daily Life
    The trick isn’t finding time—it’s making creativity part of your routine, like brushing your teeth (but with more paint… wait, no, don’t brush your teeth with paint… the struggle is real). If you set aside even 20 minutes to do something (anything) creative daily, it keeps the momentum going.
  3. Respect Your Brain’s Bandwidth
    We all want to do ALL THE THINGS. But burnout is real. If your brain is fried, don’t force creativity—step away, walk around, eat a snack, or yell dramatically into the void (trust me, it helps). Your work will be better for it.
  4. Use the “Tiny Steps” Method
    If a big project feels overwhelming, break it into small, manageable steps. You don’t need to “write a book” today, but you can write 100 words. You don’t need to “paint a masterpiece,” but you can sketch an idea. Tiny steps add up faster than you think.
  5. Celebrate the Wins (Even the Small Ones!)
    If we only celebrate massive accomplishments, we’ll constantly feel behind. So celebrate finishing a draft, selling a piece, creating something new, or even just showing up for your creativity. Heck, celebrate remembering why you walked into a room! It’s a win!
She’s been on fire since returning to the studio

I think that’s about it… I could be forgetting something… 

Oh yeah! Have fun and don’t be all doomsday about what you didn’t get done. There is always tomorrow.

Thank You for Your Love and Support

To everyone who has sent love, well-wishes, and good vibes for Klee—we love you guys SO MUCH. Seriously. You’ve been incredible, and it means the world to us.

We’re getting back on track, slowly but surely, and we’re excited for all the creative chaos that’s coming next. Stay tuned for more art, more music, more randomness, and hopefully less walking into rooms confused.

Stay awesome, stay creative, and remember: if you forgot why you walked into a room, it was probably for snacks.

Love,
Rafi & Klee

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Don’t Listen To The Naysayers

Ah, the internet. A place where dreams are built, inspiration is shared, and someone, somewhere, is always ready to tell you why everything is doomed to fail.

Case in point: today, while perusing social media, I came across an article about the new brewery coming to 100 Seneca in Oil City. This is big news! A new business, an exciting venture, a fresh reason for people to gather, enjoy, and—let’s be real—sip on something delicious. Naturally, people were thrilled. Comments flooded in with excitement about the growth, the revitalization, and the fact that, yes, cool things are happening in Oil City!

Jeff giving us a tour of 100 Seneca

But alas, like a poorly written sequel to a great movie, the naysayers arrived. I saw this happen in Pensacola while I lived there, even with it being a beautiful town on the coast of Florida. The town was picking itself back up with many people being proactive, yet the humbugs voiced their “opinion” about how it was doomed to fail. Ten years later and I’m happy to announced that Pensacola is thriving. But, there will always be someone complaining no matter what you are trying to do.

You know the type. The ones who see a new opportunity and immediately predict its failure like they have some kind of crystal ball of doom. The ones who still pine for the “good ol’ days” while conveniently forgetting that the good ol’ days weren’t always that great. The ones who assume that because something is new, it must be bad, and because something didn’t exist before, it shouldn’t exist now.

I like to call them the defeatists.

As an artist, I know these creatures well. They are the ones who take great pride in explaining to me why my creative endeavors are impractical, why artists can’t make money, and why I should probably just get a “real job.” They stand at the sidelines, loudly declaring that the game is unwinnable—while never actually playing the game themselves.

Live painting at a VERY successful art show we put on in Oil City

A Brief History of Oil City’s Evolution (for the Defeatists Who Forgot)

Oil City, as the name suggests, once thrived because of oil. In fact, it was where it all began. It boomed. It thrived. It was the place to be. And then—surprise, surprise—big petroleum companies decided they could make more money elsewhere by destroying an entire town’s livelihood, packed up, and left. What followed was the opposite of an economic boom. (An economic oomph? An economic thud? A financial faceplant? Take your pick.)

But did Oil City roll over and give up? No! The town shifted gears, launched an artist relocation program, a Mainstreet Program, and people in the community stepped up and decided to make things happen. Others just sat on their hands and complained. Yet, despite the laziness and moaning of a few, the town slowly started rebuilding with creativity, community, and small businesses at its core.

Now, we have new businesses, a thriving art community, and growing opportunities. Change isn’t coming—it’s already here. And yet, some people still refuse to see it. Instead, they clutch their metaphorical pearls and reminisce about a time long gone, all while ignoring the incredible momentum happening right under their noses.

Most of our community and the surrounding communities are hungry for awesome things and pay attention to all the cool stuff that is coming. Some live in a bubble of their own pessimism and are committed to not being a part of that growth.

Working on Library mural in Oil City

Why Do Defeatists Exist?

Honestly? Some people just don’t like change. Others can’t wrap their mind around the future because they are stuck in the past. They’d rather complain about how things used to be than take part in how things could be. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s laziness. Maybe they have a secret hobby of raining on people’s parades.

Whatever the reason, their negative energy is exhausting. And if we’re not careful, it can seep into our own enthusiasm like a slow leak in a bicycle tire.

The truth is, some people just got used to complaining and focusing on everything that is going wrong. They bitch, they moan, but they don’t become proactive in their own lives. They are waiting for someone to save them and until then, they just complain. I know this sounds harsh, but it’s true. I used to be one of those people, and the world I see now is vastly different than what it used to be.

The town isn’t going to evolve on its own. It takes forward thinkers and people who focus on opportunity, something that defeatists can’t do because they are stuck in the past.

Concert At Woods And River Coffee (AWESOME COFFEE SHOP) Oil City

So, What Do We Do About Them?

1. Ignore and Proceed

The best way to deal with a naysayer is to do the exact thing they claim won’t work. Prove them wrong by succeeding. Don’t expect all of them to come around and change their mind, many will chalk it up to luck and move on to the next thing they’ll complain about. However, some may have planted the seed of hope in their perspective which is huge.

2. Don’t Engage in the Negativity Olympics

Trying to argue with a defeatist is like arguing with a pigeon—it won’t change its mind, it’ll just ignore you and look for things to peck at… and eventually, it’ll just poop on your head. Let them stew in their cynicism while you build something awesome.

3. Remember Who Actually Represents Your Community

The loudest complainer does not represent the majority. The person who left that negative comment does not speak for our town. I’ve seen firsthand how supportive this town is of new businesses and ideas. So let’s not let one keyboard warrior speak for an entire community of dreamers, doers, and creators. It’s easy to complain from the sidelines while someone else is trying to make things happen, but in the end, those people are not in the arena and they are not actually committed to the growth of the town. They want someone else to fix the problem, all while not lifting a finger to actually do anything about it.

4. Keep Creating and Supporting Growth

Klee and I are not only working on a mural design for this brewery, but we’re also involved in the Makerspace that’s coming to the same building. These are projects that will contribute to the town’s growth and creativity. That’s where our focus is—not on the people who refuse to see progress even when it’s painted on a wall right in front of them.

Concert at Curb Market in Oil City

In Conclusion: Let’s Keep Moving Forward

The reality is, change is inevitable. It’s part of life. And instead of fearing it, resisting it, or yelling at it from behind a keyboard, why not embrace it? In my travels around the country, I’ve seen a lot of towns fall victim to devastating economic change, but I have also seen towns reinvent themselves and thrive. The towns that thrived did so because their community came together and embraced the future. The towns that fell apart saw no future for themselves. Oil City has already proven that it can evolve, and it will continue to do so—whether the defeatists like it or not. Luckily, we have way more dreamers.

So, to all the dreamers, risk-takers, and forward-thinkers out there: keep building, keep creating, and keep proving the naysayers wrong. And to the defeatists? Well, enjoy your time in the past. We’ll be over here, shaping the future.