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A CREATIVE PSA: Don’t Be Dumb Like Me

I wanted to share a little warning with all of you today.
A friendly, heartfelt, “learn from my mistakes” kind of post.

Or, more accurately…

A don’t be dumb like me post.

A couple of days ago, Klee and I were deep in the mad holiday rush. Orders were flying out the door, the studio looked like a creative tornado had touched down, and we were prepping for our last winter show, the Holiday Makers Market at Clifford’s.

The show itself? Amazing.
The community showed up, we got to hang out with incredible local artists, and it reminded us (again) why we love doing what we do.

A smiling couple stands at their booth filled with handmade jewelry and colorful artwork at a craft fair.

The problem happened before the show.

The day before, while juggling a million things, my brain did that thing it does sometimes. You know the thing. I’m fully focused on one task, and then suddenly my brain goes:

“HEY. YOU SHOULD FIX THAT RANDOM THING RIGHT NOW.”

This time, it was a crack in our studio utility sink.

Perfect timing, right?

So naturally, instead of saying “maybe after the holidays” or “this can wait,” I decided this would be a great thing to squeeze into an already packed schedule.

Brilliant.

A cluttered artist studio sink area with various paintbrushes hanging on a rack, a utility sink showing signs of use, and a yellow painted base.

I caulked the cracks in the sink and then thought, “You know what would really seal this up? Flex Seal.”
I had a spray can left from when I worked on our gutters. Easy. Quick. Done in five minutes.

Except… not really.

It’s winter.
The studio has limited ventilation this time of year.
And even though I own masks and wear them regularly when I spray paint…

I decided (in the heat of the moment) that I didn’t need one.

“It’ll be quick,” I said to myself.
“It’s fine,” I said to myself.
“Future Rafi can deal with it,” I implied.

So I sprayed the sink.

Then another layer.

Then another.

Then… I emptied the entire can.

A close-up view of a utility sink with fresh white flex seal coating applied, showing uneven patches and a drain at the bottom.

If you’ve ever sprayed something inside a basin, you already know where this is going.
That spray doesn’t politely stay where you put it.
It bounces.
It comes back out.
And it hits you directly in the face.

Since I wasn’t wearing a mask, I basically inhaled those vapors like they were fresh mountain air.

Then (because apparently I hadn’t learned anything yet) I just went on with my day.

That night and into the next day, my lungs were not happy.
I was coughing up stuff, felt that deep chest irritation, and realized something was very wrong.

At the show, I couldn’t stay the whole time. I had to step out and go home a few times just to breathe and recover a bit. Klee just looked at me with a serious look and said, I’m worried about you. Never do that again. I nodded.

That evening, I did some steaming, focused on clearing my breathing, and thankfully things improved.

This morning, I woke up feeling better overall…
but with absolutely no voice.

None.
Gone.
Vanished.

Which brings me to the point of this whole post.

A cluttered studio space filled with art supplies, boxes, and unfinished artwork, showcasing a creative environment in disarray.

The PSA Part

Do not be dumb like me.

Seriously.

Here’s why this was a bad idea (in case my missing voice wasn’t convincing enough):

  • Cold weather + poor ventilation = bad combo
  • Spray sealants are not harmless
  • If you’re spraying inside a confined space, it will come back at you
  • “It’ll be quick” is a lie your brain tells you
  • Masks exist for a reason
  • Rushing + repairs = mistakes
A snowy backyard scene featuring a house, steps leading up to it, and a firepit, with snowfall creating a serene winter atmosphere.

What You Should Always Have on Hand

  • A proper mask or respirator for fumes
  • Ventilation (fans, open windows when possible)
  • Gloves and basic safety gear
  • The ability to say “this can wait”

So there it is.
My public service announcement for the day.

For anyone wondering, I’m feeling much better. Other than not being able to speak, I actually feel pretty good. Lungs are calming down, breathing is easier, and lesson very much learned.

If this post saves even one of you from doing something similar while rushing around your studio, garage, or workspace…

Then at least my poor decision wasn’t completely wasted.

Stay safe out there.
And wear the damn mask.

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Why Being an Artist Is Both Amazing and Absolutely Terrifying

This morning as I was spraying sealant on the studio sink (in an enclosed area with no ventilation so this message might be weird) I was thinking about something. I thought about the beautiful, ridiculous roller coaster that is being an artist. We have a pop up tomorrow at Clifford’s in Oil City and I find myself rushing around at the last minute trying to get everything ready for it. People often imagine that the life of a creative human is a serene, mystical experience filled with gentle inspiration, endless cups of perfectly brewed coffee, and large sunlit studios where inspiration strikes at the perfect moment.

Yeah… no.

Being an artist is one of the most amazing experiences you can have as a human, and one of the most terrifying things you can sign up for. It’s like having a dragon for a pet. It sounds awesome. It’s magical, powerful, life-changing, and occasionally it wants to set your hair on fire or eat your friends.

Let me explain.

A person holding a colorful painting in front of a vibrant mural depicting diverse scenes and characters, showcasing engagement and creativity in an artistic environment.

You Get to Create Worlds… Which Is Amazing.

You Also Have No Map… Which Is Terrifying.

Every time you sit down to create, you are literally pulling something out of thin air. That’s incredible. You get to build something that never existed before you walked into the room. Everything you do as an artist is uniquely yours. But, there’s no roadmap for creating something new, including an art career. Every attempt to succeed, every blank canvas, lump of clay, sheet of paper, or hunk of metal has the audacity to look you dead in the eye and say,

“So… you got a plan? Yeah right.”

And then the internal panic kicks in. That’s usually when many people quit. We talk ourselves out of that project or idea. This is where persistence comes in. Not only persistence, but the willingness to being unreasonably optimistic about what things will look like in the future. Every day, as an artist, I have to convince myself to put one foot in front of the other and keep going.

A person wearing a magnifying headset works on jewelry at a wooden workbench surrounded by various tools and materials in a colorful studio.

You Chase Passion… Which Is Amazing.

You Also Chase It Off a Cliff Sometimes… Which Is Terrifying.

Art comes from the heart. You follow gut feelings, wild ideas, and emotional lightning bolts. This is the stuff that makes life feel alive. But then there are days when your passion and optimism abandons you. You think, “I didn’t sign up for this chaos”. And you’re left standing in the studio thinking:

“Cool, so now what? Should I quit? Should I paint a potato? Should I take a nap? Should I panic? All of the above?”

Yet if you persist, your passion and optimism will always return… eventually. You’ll think, “Hey, I’ve got an idea…”
and suddenly you’re back in the game.

An artist sitting at a cluttered studio table surrounded by various art supplies, finished paintings, and open boxes labeled with craft materials.

You’re Vulnerable… Which Is Amazing.

You’re Also Too Vulnerable… Which Is Terrifying.

Every time you put yourself out there, every piece of art you make is basically you stripping off your armor.
You pour your thoughts, emotions, stories, and weird little quirks into everything you do. People don’t realize that when they look at your art, they’re basically looking at your guts in an artform.

This is why showing your work feels like saying, “Here is my soul, hope you like it, no pressure.”

But that vulnerability is also what connects you to other humans. It’s what makes someone walk up to your art, pause, breathe, and whisper, “That’s exactly how I feel.”

That moment? Worth every ounce of terror.

Three individuals stand outdoors by a calm lake, smiling and interacting with each other. The background features a lush green forest and houses. The person in the center has glasses and a colorful hat, while the others are dressed in casual and semi-formal attire.

Creative Freedom… Which Is Amazing.

Financial Uncertainty… Which Is Terrifying.

Ah yes, the glamorous life of a professional artist. You get freedom, adventure, new ideas, and the ability to build your entire life from scratch. And also anxiety. Lots of anxiety. A healthy sprinkling of “Will this sell?” A dash of “Do I need to become a barista?” (By the way, there is nothing wrong with that.) And a generous scoop of “Why does everything cost so much? Who decided this?”

But the truth is, the freedom you get as an artist is priceless. Yes, you are in uncharted waters and every learning curve feels like a disaster, but being an artist is all about being comfortable in the discomfort. It’s not for everyone (although it could be). The willingness to pick yourself up and keep moving forward through uncertainty is a superpower we develop the longer we do this. It’s not easy, but it is life changing. It’s terrifying, yes, but unbelievably empowering.

An art teacher demonstrating perspective drawing on a chalkboard, with students attentively engaged in the classroom.

Growth Is Amazing… But Growth Is Also Terrifying.

As an artist, you are always growing, evolving, pushing boundaries, and stepping outside comfort zones. That’s what makes the journey rich. But stepping outside comfort zones is basically code for, “I’m going to scare myself a little today.”

Every new project asks you to be braver than yesterday. Every big idea asks you to trust yourself more than feels reasonable. And every new creation or outreach teaches you something, usually the hard way because artists are stubborn creatures.

But oh, the feeling when it all comes together eventually. When you have a successful showing. When someone connects with your art. When the piece is finished. When your heart feels full. When you can step back and say,
“I did that. Me. My hands. My chaos. My creativity.”

That’s the moment that makes every fear worth facing.

A man wearing a green dragon onesie and a woman in a silver dress sit together in a cozy living room, surrounded by colorful artwork and soft lighting, with video recording equipment in front of them.

So Why Do We Do It?

Because art is the place where the terrifying becomes transformative. Because we get to take all our messy human feelings and turn them into something beautiful, weird, powerful, joyful, emotional, colorful, meaningful. Because we get to connect with people in ways words alone can’t touch. Because creating is freedom, and true freedom (even with its fear) is one of the most exhilarating experiences we get in this life.

Being an artist is wild.
It’s unpredictable.
It’s emotional.
It’s overwhelming.
It’s magical.
It’s terrifying.
It’s amazing.

And honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Love,
Rafi And Klee

CONGRATULATIONS TO ERICA!

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Facing Fear Is Basically the Job Description of an Artist

I wanted to share something with you that’s been bouncing around in my head since our ride home last night from the Hatch Hollow exhibition. That was such a cool show. The art was beautiful, the space felt alive, and we met some awesome humans… and yet, the entire time, Klee and I were our usual awkwardly-introverted selves trying to look like we knew what we were doing.

Which brings me to the thing I keep thinking about.

Being an artist means living in a constant rotation of “oh cool… I’m terrified again.”
Every single thing we do is a push out of a comfort zone.

We put ourselves out there.
We show our art.
We share our weird ideas.
We get rejected.
We face crickets.
We push through doubt.
We get asked weird questions about how we look (especially by kids in school lol).
We get looked at like we’re strange for daring to do something many people don’t understand.

Two artists sorting through art supplies in a classroom, one wearing glasses and a blue sweater, the other with a bandana and beard, reflecting a creative and collaborative environment.

And somehow… we keep going.
Honestly, if you’re here reading this, you’re a freakin’ badass. Full stop.

People talk about bravery like it’s a singular moment, but as artists, bravery is the entire lifestyle. You wake up, you make something from your insides, and then you release it into the world knowing full well that someone might not get it, might not like it, or might straight-up ignore it. And you still do it. That’s not just brave… that’s wild, powerful, rogue-level bad-assery.

A Little Food for Thought

Last night reminded me that fear doesn’t go away just because we’ve been doing this for years. It just shows up wearing different outfits. Sometimes it’s a group gallery opening. Sometimes it’s launching something new. Sometimes it’s just saying hello to someone when your introvert circuits are fried.

All of it counts.
All of it is part of the ride.
All of it shapes who we are as creative humans.

Group of people at an art gallery exhibition, with a focus on three individuals in the foreground smiling at the camera. The background features artworks on display and attendees mingling.

How We Push Through Comfort Zones

Just a little something I’ve learned the hard, awkward way:

Acknowledge the fear, but don’t let it drive. Let it sit in the passenger seat and complain, but keep your hands on the wheel.
Take the small step, not the perfect step. Fear loves perfection. We don’t.
Celebrate the weird victories. Did you talk to one human today? Did you post that thing that made you sweaty? Did you show up? Victory.
Remember why you do this. Not for approval, not for permission, not for the algorithm. You do this because you have something inside you that won’t shut up until you create it… and you might as well share it with the world.

We are all out here stumbling forward together, pushing boundaries, and doing the uncomfortable, magical work of making something from nothing.

You’re not alone. You’re not strange. You’re not behind.
You’re an artist, which means you’re braver than you think, more capable than you realize, and part of a community of rogues who refuse to give up.

Love you awesome humans. Keep stepping outside that comfort zone, even if it’s just one wobbly step at a time.

-Rafi

A colorful banner promoting a Patreon page for artists, featuring two smiling individuals, Rafi and Klee, inviting viewers to join for tips and special offerings.
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Why Connecting Matters (Especially as an Artist)

This year, Klee and I had a lot of downtime. Life kind of hit the pause button for us, and we had to step back from doing the things we normally do in the community. And you know what? I learned something important about being a creative human.

As artists, we love our hermit mode. There’s nothing quite like disappearing into the studio, spending hours creating, or just sitting quietly with our thoughts. It’s a beautiful part of the process, but if your only connection to the outside world becomes social media, you might be in trouble.

A group of people gathered in a bright, cozy room, engaging in conversation and activities, with two individuals taking a selfie in the foreground.
Klee and I connecting with amazing artists at the Creative Conference

When Klee got sick and we had to slow down, we made a rule: get off the screens. Disconnect from the endless scroll, the opinions, the algorithms, the illusion of connection. What I noticed during that time was how dark my perception of the world started to get. I was losing track of what really mattered, connecting one-on-one with people.

Listen, we have built a large online community of awesome people over the years, and we love connecting with you, but there’s a reason we communicate mostly through our blogs, YouTube, and Patreon. People have to actively be interested, and it doesn’t leave room for trolls or the unnecessary bull. It feels more real, more intentional, and closer to what true community is supposed to be. But, you can still feel isolated if you don’t get out there every once in a while.

A woman working on a project at a table in a creative workspace, surrounded by others engaged in various activities. She is holding a pen and focusing on her work while a box of materials sits nearby.
Hanging out with creative humans at the Makerspace

Over the years, I’ve probably repeated the same words in my videos, blogs, and anywhere else someone might listen:

  1. Create the art you want to create.
  2. Put yourself and your art out there in whatever way you can.
  3. Persist through the bullshit (from your mind and the outside world).

Rinse and repeat.

Recently, I came back to that simple doctrine. Somewhere along the way, I complicated things with too many steps, too many goals, and too many checklists. I was trying too hard, and I forgot that the most beautiful thing about being an artist is how organic it can be. Your art career can grow naturally when you allow it to.

A group of people participating in a painting class, seated at tables with easels and art supplies, engaged in creative expression.
Connecting with awesome people at a paint and sip we lead at The Exchange

Of course, the hardest step is always “persist through the bullshit.” You’ll face rejection, insecurity, fear, and some emotions that don’t even have labels. But if you keep going, it always leads you somewhere meaningful.

I’m so happy we’re out there in the community again, surrounded by creative humans and humans who support the arts. Sure, just like online, there might be some a-holes floating around, but our paths rarely cross when we’re doing awesome things with awesome people.

That’s why we’re really looking forward to our closing reception at The Red Brick Gallery. The opening reception was amazing. We met and talked to so many incredible people while surrounded by our art and Klee’s jewelry. Those moments, where we get to connect face-to-face with others and share what we love, are some of our favorites.

Four adults smiling together at an art exhibition, with colorful artwork displayed in the background and a warm, inviting atmosphere.
So many awesome humans at our opening reception (Redbrick Gallery)

Tomorrow, we’re taking a friend who’s visiting from out of town to see the exhibition, and then we’ll be back for the closing reception on Sunday, November 9th, from 4–6 PM. It’ll be the last day of the show before we pack everything up. If you are curious about what other events we are a part of, check out our EVENTS page.

Promotional image for the 'Interwoven' art exhibition at the Red Brick Gallery, featuring various artworks, jewelry, and sculptures by Rafi & Klee, with details of the closing reception on November 9th from 4-6 PM.

Right before the reception, ARCA is hosting a truly magical performance titled Rich and Wondrous Sounds: The Wurlitzer Theatre Organ Experience featuring Jonas Nordwall at 2 PM in Lincoln Hall. The newly restored 1928 McKissick Mighty Wurlitzer organ will fill the room with incredible sound: strings, winds, brass, and percussion all rolled into one magnificent experience.

Four individuals engaged in a creative art session, drawing and coloring with various art supplies, including colored pencils, on a table filled with papers and drinks. Pumpkins are displayed in the background, adding a seasonal touch.
The Exquisite Corpse game brings a lot of laughter and connection!

If you’re local, come out, enjoy the music, see some art, and connect with good people. And if you’re not nearby, I encourage you to do the same wherever you are. Go see a show, talk to the artists, laugh with strangers, and remember that real human connection is what keeps the creative spark alive.

Because at the end of the day, art is meant to be shared, and community is where it truly comes to life.

A man and a woman stand by a serene riverbank, gazing thoughtfully at the water surrounded by lush green hills under a partly cloudy sky.
Connecting to nature counts as well
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How I’m Still Winging It After Four Books?

So… I released a book! YAY!
And we had a Book Release Party Stream, and holy heck, it was awesome. Seeing all of you awesome humans pop in, chat, laugh, and celebrate with us! That moment was pure gold. I may or may not have ugly-cried off-camera (don’t judge).

There’s something incredible about spending months (okay, years) sweating over words, punctuation, and coffee stains, only to finally see the book out in the world. It’s like raising a kid who finally moves out… except the kid is made of paper and crippling self-doubt. It’s amazing seeing the thing you wrestled into existence finally out there. You spend months hunched over a laptop, muttering at Word documents and threatening your spell checker, and then one day… boom ! It’s a real book!

A person holding a page from a book titled 'Dear Artist' with text discussing creative block, accompanied by an illustration of a character debating whether to push through or take a break.

Let’s be honest, I feel like I have a handle on creating art and sculpture. Paint? Metal? Wood? No problem. Writing? Pfft. Total mystery. I’ve published four books now, and I still have no idea what I’m doing.

Like, I’ll sit there thinking, “Ah yes, I’ll write a profound paragraph that will move humanity.”
Three hours later: “Why does every sentence sound like I’m trying to explain taxes to a squirrel?”

The learning curve for me has looked like this:

  • Book 1: “What’s a copyright?”
  • Book 2: “Wait, I have to format this myself?”
  • Book 3: “Why do I hate every word I’ve ever written?”
  • Book 4: “Okay, maybe I’m getting the hang of this?” (Narrator: he is not.)
A cartoon depicting a character in an art studio painting a dog on an easel. The text reads: 'IF YOU WAIT UNTIL IT'S PERFECT, YOU'LL BE WAITING FOREVER. Just paint the damn thing.'

Let me paint a picture of my writing process so you understand where I’m coming from and how I’ve come to grips with writing:

  1. Stage One: Confidence. “I’ve got this. I’m an author now.”
  2. Stage Two: Doubt. “Wait… why does this sound like a grocery list?”
  3. Stage Three: Despair. “I’ve made a huge mistake.”
  4. Stage Four: Delusion. “Actually, this might be genius!”
  5. Stage Five: Editing. “Who wrote this garbage?? Oh right, me.”

It happens every time. It’s funny when I think about it. This pretty much describes my creative process. For example, in book writing adventures, here’s what I’ve experienced:

  • I once spent two days trying to decide whether “artist’s” or “artists’” had the right number of apostrophes.
  • I re-read entire chapters out loud just to realize I’d used the word actually 27 times.
  • My inner critic doesn’t even whisper anymore… it shows up in a bathrobe, eating chips, and says, “You sure this isn’t just word salad with feelings?”
  • Half my first drafts read like I’m trying to win an argument with myself.
  • Don’t even get me started on formatting. Every time I export a file for print, it’s like opening a book report full of red marks.
An artist reviews a stack of books at a cluttered workbench, surrounded by various art supplies and artworks in progress.

That being said, I started to notice something familiar in the chaos. The insecurity, the trial and error, the weird joy when something finally clicks. Writing a book isn’t that different from creating art.

When I paint or sculpt, there’s that ugly middle stage. You know, when everything looks wrong and you question your life choices. Writing has that too. You stare at the screen thinking, This makes no sense. I’m a fraud. I should go sell fruit baskets by the highway.

Then, just like in art, you keep showing up. You move things around. You trust that eventually, the mess will start making sense. It’s that same mix of doubt and wonder that keeps you going, the same muscle that turns chaos into creation.

At this point, I’m convinced writing a book is 20 percent inspiration and 80 percent figuring out what you did wrong after you hit publish. One of the biggest issues I ran into after publishing my book is ISBNs.

Two individuals seated at a table, each signing copies of the book titled 'DEAR ARTIST: DON'T GIVE UP!' surrounded by stacks of the book.

Oh, the glamorous world of ISBNs. You know those little numbers on the back of books? Yeah, those. They come from a company called Bowker, and they’ve been running the ISBN racket since the late 1800s.

It started with a guy named Frederick Leypoldt, a publisher who apparently thought, “You know what would make books more fun? Numbers!” Then R. R. Bowker took over and turned it into a business. And not just any business, a business that has been charging authors for numbers for over 145 years. I’m not saying it’s a monopoly, but… okay, it’s totally a monopoly.

Here’s how it works:

  • 1 ISBN = $125
  • 10 ISBNs = $295
  • 100 ISBNs = $575

It’s like a Costco membership for book numbers that make no sense. Buy in bulk, or pay the “I only need one” sucker price. And you need a separate ISBN for every format: paperback, hardcover, e-book, audiobook, second edition, third edition, even that “slightly-different-cover-because-I-changed-my-mind” edition. Each one needs a different ISBN.

A person with a bandana and tattoos is working at a bulletin board filled with small notes, while a sign above reads 'The Rogue Artist's: Survival Guide, written by Rafi.'

This is where I’m running into my next conundrum. The audiobook and e-book for Dear Artist is done and ready to go, but I don’t have any ISBNs to publish them under.

Honestly, it’s wild. I feel like Bowker could release a board game: “Guess how many ISBNs you forgot to buy!” Winner gets anxiety and a lighter wallet.

So yeah, I released the soft cover during the Book Release Party (woohoo!) and now I’m running a little fundraiser sale to raise money for the next batch of ISBNs. The goal? Get 100 of them so I don’t run out before I die or write another four books that I “accidentally” format wrong. The sale works like this, buy an original book drawing, poster, or signed copy of the dear artist book and we set that aside for a new batch of ISBNs. Everything is on sale to make it more irresistible.

An original drawing featuring a character holding signs that say 'Support Local Artists,' 'Will Paint 4 Support,' and 'Open Commissions,' alongside the book 'Dear Artist, Don't Give Up!'

We’re 42 percent of the way there (which feels like the perfect “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” number).

If you want to help us get there:
Buy an original drawing, poster, or signed book.
Every purchase helps me avoid future ISBN shortages, artistic meltdowns, and potential caffeine overdoses.

To everyone who tuned in to the book release stream. thank you. You made the whole thing unforgettable. I can’t tell you how good it felt to share that moment with you instead of just screaming triumphantly alone in my studio (though, to be fair, that has also happened).

You guys make this crazy ride worth it. You remind me why I keep writing, even when I feel like I’m wrestling with grammar and losing.

So here’s to doing it wrong, learning as we go, and celebrating every weird, wonderful victory along the way. I may still be winging it, but I’m winging it with style.

— Rafi

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Happy International Artist Day, You Beautiful Creative Human!

Today we celebrate International Artist Day, which basically means it’s one day a year we all get to collectively shrug, hold up our paint-covered hands, glue-stained fingers, clay-dusted aprons, and say, “Yeah… I did that.”

Whether you’re a painter, musician, sculptor, jewelry maker, doodler, filmmaker, or you just made something awesome out of macaroni and pride… you are an artist.

An artist examining a painting of a sunflower in a studio filled with colorful artwork and supplies.

Let’s Talk About That Sneaky Little Stickman On Your Shoulder Named Imposter Syndrome

Ah yes, imposter syndrome, the voice in your head that whispers things like:

  • “You’re not a real artist.”
  • “You don’t have a degree.”
  • “You don’t sell enough.”
  • “Your art doesn’t look like their art.”

First of all, that voice is a liar.
Second, it has the audacity to live rent-free in your head, and today’s as good a day as any to evict it… or muzzle it.

An artist wearing a hat and plaid shirt paints on a canvas while sitting at a table with various art supplies, including paintbrushes and water bottles. In the background, other artists are engaged in their own work under a tent.
Creating live at an event
A group of artists gathered in a creative space for a workshop, with a smiling man and woman in the foreground taking a selfie.
Speaking with other awesome artists at an event

Here’s the truth, you don’t need anyone’s permission to call yourself an artist. You don’t need a gallery, a blue checkmark, or a magical scroll that says, “Congratulations, you now officially make art.” If you create, you’re an artist. Period.

Art isn’t a club with secret handshakes. It’s a wild, messy, beautiful rebellion against the ordinary.

A musician playing guitar while a woman sings into a microphone in an outdoor setting, with a stone wall in the background.
Playing music live at an event

Here’s Something I’ve Learned On My Artistic Journey

  1. Stop waiting for validation.
    No one else gets to define your creative worth. You could hand your masterpiece to the universe and someone, somewhere will still not “get it.” That’s okay. You’re not creating for them.
  2. Make bad art.
    Seriously. Ugly, weird, glorious disasters are part of the process. Every creative masterpiece is built on a mountain of what-the-hell-was-I-thinking moments.
  3. Remind yourself: you belong here.
    Not because you’ve proven yourself, but because you’ve shown up. You dared to create something from nothing, and that alone makes you a badass artist.
  4. Don’t let fear disguise itself as humility.
    Saying, “I’m not a real artist” might feel modest, but it’s actually self-sabotage in fancy clothes. Own it. You are an artist. Say it out loud. Scare your cat with it.
  5. Persist.
    When that stick man in your head tells you to quit, make one more brushstroke. When the world feels indifferent, keep showing up. Persistence is the secret weapon of every artist who’s ever made an impact. It’s not talent, luck, or having the right connections, it’s the sheer stubbornness to keep creating no matter what.
  6. Put yourself out there.
    Don’t hide your work in a drawer, a folder, or your camera roll forever. Share it. Show it. Let people experience it. Yeah, it’s scary, but so is every meaningful thing in life. The moment you put your work into the world, you claim your place as an artist, not because it’s perfect, but because you were brave enough to show up.
Two artists seated at a booth with a striped canopy, displaying various art materials and promotional items on the table.
Showing off our books at book fair

So, on this International Artist Day, raise your paintbrush, your mic, your hammer, your camera, or your creative weapon of choice and celebrate the fact that you are doing something courageous: you are making art in a world that desperately needs it.

A smiling man in a black hoodie poses with crossed arms in front of a woman working at a craft table, both surrounded by colorful artwork and art supplies in a vibrant studio.
Congratulations on being AWESOME, from our studio to yours!

Now go make something weird, beautiful, and unapologetically you.
Happy Artist Day, my fellow creative human! you’ve earned it.

— Rafi and 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.

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Finding Your Creative Flow After Life Disruptions

Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs. Sometimes, it’s a small bump in the road, and other times, it’s a full-on derailment. As a lot of you know, December threw a massive wrench into our world when Klee got pretty sick. And when I say a wrench, I mean one of those ridiculously oversized, cartoon-style wrenches that completely shut down the creative machine that is our life and business. To say it was a challenge would be the understatement of the century.

Honestly, it got pretty hairy there for a while. My focus became Klee—making sure she was okay, trying to keep things together, and, quite frankly, barely keeping my own head above water. When life demands that kind of energy, creativity, business, and all those other moving parts take a backseat. It’s like standing in the middle of a creative tornado and suddenly realizing you don’t even remember how to pick up a paintbrush.

A lot of hospital waiting rooms

But the good news? Klee is feeling much better! We still have a ways to go, but her smile has returned, and we’re both back in the studio.

Stepping back into that space after months of not being creative is… well, weird. Because getting back to “normal” after life has thrown you off course isn’t as simple as flipping a switch.

For anyone who has had life put their passion on pause, you know how tough it is to return. Things have piled up, been neglected, or pushed aside. And now, they all sit in front of you, staring you down like a boss battle in a video game you’ve never played. It’s overwhelming.

For me, I tried to keep things running while Klee was sick—I handled urgent things like orders and communication with collectors—but everything else? Yeah, it sat there, collecting dust and waiting for me to figure out how to be creative again. And let’s be real, I don’t just feel rusty—I feel like I have completely forgotten how to create art.

So, how do you get back into the groove when life has thrown you off your creative rhythm? Here’s what’s been working for me:

1. Start Small and Give Yourself Grace

Creativity isn’t a faucet you just turn back on. If it feels like you’ve forgotten how to do what you love, don’t panic—it’s normal. Start small. Doodle, hum, play with materials, move your body, do something low-pressure. The first thing you create after a long break will probably feel awkward, but that’s okay. Progress, not perfection.

2. Let Go of the Guilt

It’s easy to beat yourself up for all the things you “should have” done. Don’t. Life happens. It’s okay that things paused. The important part is that you’re here now, ready to begin again. Creativity doesn’t hold grudges—it just waits for you to come back.

3. Make Time, Even if It’s Messy

Your brain will try to convince you that you need the perfect setup, the perfect moment, or the perfect amount of time to dive back in. That’s a lie. Just show up, even if it’s for 10 minutes. Creativity thrives on momentum, not time shortage mentality.

4. Move Through the “This Isn’t Working” Phase

Right now, I’m working on a mural, a commission, and some new art. I am slowly (very slowly) crawling out of the “this isn’t working” stage. That stage is real. And it’s frustrating. But if you keep moving through it, even when it feels like you’re pushing through molasses, you’ll come out the other side. Trust the process, even when it feels like it’s laughing at you.

5. Do Something That Reminds You Why You Love It

Go back to your roots. Listen to music that inspires you. Look at old sketches. Read something that made you want to create in the first place. Remind yourself that you didn’t start this journey for perfection—you started it because it made you feel alive.

6. Be Patient with Yourself

Coming back to creativity after a break is like rebuilding a muscle. You wouldn’t hit the gym after months away and expect to lift the heaviest weight on day one. Creativity is the same. Give yourself the space to rebuild your confidence and strength.

7. Find the Joy in the Process

It’s easy to get caught up in productivity and deadlines, but don’t forget to enjoy the ride. Laugh at the weird mistakes. Let yourself play. The best way to rebuild your creative groove is to fall in love with creating again.


So, if you’re out there, feeling stuck, feeling rusty, feeling like you’ve lost your creative spark—know that you’re not alone. Life happens, and sometimes, it completely reroutes our plans. But creativity is patient. It waits for you. And when you’re ready, it welcomes you back with open arms (and probably a bit of frustration, but hey, that’s part of the deal).

We’re back at it, one brushstroke, one piece of jewelry, one idea at a time. And if you’re climbing out of your own creative funk, I hope you give yourself grace, patience, and permission to just start. Because once you do, that groove you thought you lost? It’ll find its way back to you.

And when it does, oh man, is it going to be awesome.

CONGRATULATIONS TO ERICA!

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Win A Video Call With Rafi And Klee!

I’m excited to announce something awesome! This February, we’re running a contest, and one lucky winner will score a 30-minute video call with us—Rafi and Klee! That’s right, an entire half-hour of hanging out, talking art, life, creativity, how to break the rules, or whatever weird and wonderful things we get into. This contest runs from February 3rd 2025 and ends March 2nd 2025 at 10 PM Eastern.

CONGRATULATIONS TO ERICA!

What Can You Do with Your 30 Minutes?

Great question! Here are just a few possibilities:
🎨 Pick our brains about art, creativity, marketing, or why our cactus is drowning (you had to be there).
🎸 Ask Klee about music and jewelry-making wizardry.
🖼 Talk shop about pricing, galleries, or art business strategies.
💡 Brainstorm ideas, get feedback on your work, or just chat about life and being a rogue artist.
😂 Have a ridiculously fun and random conversation that may or may not involve ridiculous storytelling.

Whatever you want to talk about, we’re here for it.

How to Enter

Entering is simple! Just click on this link and follow instructions. Boom! You’re in. We’ll be picking one lucky winner at the end of February!

CONGRATULATIONS TO ERICA!

Why Are We Doing This?

Because we love connecting with amazing creative humans like you! Also, we like surprises, and what better surprise than an impromptu, slightly chaotic, and totally fun conversation?

So, what are you waiting for? Enter now, and maybe we’ll see your awesome face on a video call soon! 😃

Stay awesome and keep creating,
Rafi & Klee

LAST MONTHS WINNERS!

Announcing the winners for last month’s Giveaway at Rafi And Klee Studios! Thank you so much to everyone for entering! Congratulations to Tom and Ricardo! You will get an email from me with instructions on how to get your calendar (please check your spam folder if you don’t see it).

Tom and Ricardo, please check your spam folder for the instructions on how to claim your prizes!