Posted on 2 Comments

5 Surprising Lessons from 15 Years of Creative Chaos

I woke up this morning, and our house is 55 degrees because our boiler got over taxed last night and temporarily shut down. It needs a new part, so hopefully I can order that soon. I got it working now, so I’m waiting for the house to heat up in the warmest room we have with nothing to do but think and write. I’ll get back in the art studio when it doesn’t feel like an ice box. So, here’s what I’ve been thinking about this morning. It’s been over 15 years since Klee and I hitched our wagon to this wild dream of being full-time creators. Looking back, if we had followed all the “expert” advice we were given at the start, we’d probably be bored out of our minds. People told us to “niche down” and pick one tiny lane. Instead, we decided to drive the bus across the whole landscape.

Here is the unvarnished truth of what we’ve learned about the business of being an artist while building our own creative universe.

1. The Niche is a Lie (For Us, Anyway)

Everyone says you have to do one thing. If you’re a painter, just paint. But I’m a painter, a muralist, and an author. Klee is a fine jewelry artist who uses old world techniques to give her pieces raw energy. Together, we’re a band, we’re podcasters, Youtubers, and we’re community builders. We learned that specialized silos are for grain, not for people. Doing “everything” doesn’t dilute who we are, it fuels us. That being said, if you are all about doing the one thing, that’s ok too.

A person holding a colorful art piece featuring a character with a smile, yellow clothing, and a red umbrella, standing in puddles with a vibrant, playful background.

2. Redefine Success Before Someone Else Does

In an era where creative success is often measured in money, follower counts and viral trends, we decided to define success on our own terms. One of our core values is to not chase money, fame, likes, subscribers, accolades, power, or validation as a definition of success. If you’re measuring your worth by the numbers on a screen, you’re playing a game you can’t win. Success for us is measured by our ability to live our values and share ourselves and our craft however we can. With this we hope to inspire creativity in others.

3. Master the Financial Rollercoaster

Being an artist means dealing with the ups and downs of money. Some months are good, and some are just plain bad. You have to be smart and have a solid plan for those slow months. Klee and I had to build a very strict budget to handle the unforeseen dips in income, and we made sure to keep our bills as low as possible. It might not sound like “fun creative time,” but you have to put on your financial hat and wear it. You need to know exactly how much money comes in and how much goes out. Most importantly, don’t fall into despair when things get tight; it doesn’t help. Just pull up your bootstraps and come up with a plan. Also, understand that no matter how solid your financial plan is, the shit can always hit the fan and it can fall apart. Be emotionally prepared for that as well. You can always pick yourself up as long as you don’t fall apart.

A well-organized art studio featuring a variety of colorful paintings on easels, a computer with a monitor, and various art supplies scattered across wooden tables. The walls are decorated with signs and the space is illuminated with overhead lights.

4. Build a Bridge, Not a Pedestal (There are too many “gurus” out there.)

We don’t want to be gurus on a mountaintop; we want to be in the trenches with you. Whether it’s through our Patreon community or the OC Art Syndicate here in Oil City, we’ve learned that the “starving artist” trope only survives when we stay isolated. We created the Syndicate to be a local place for the misfits and the makers to unite. Our mission is to nurture a community without hierarchy, seeing everyone as equal.

5. Analog is the Ultimate Life Hack

We do a lot online, and have built a wonderful online community, but there is a downside to having a big audience. Responding to a thousand digital comments is a great way to burn out. That’s why we started the Dear Artist Mailbox Project. We asked people to slow down and write us actual, handwritten letters. Writing by hand slows your thoughts down, and that space is where honesty tends to live. It brings the relationship back to basics and protects us from the burnout of perpetual online engagement.

Three individuals posing for a selfie in front of framed artwork, with a cozy gallery setting in the background.

6. Being Brutally Honest Is Hard But Real

Most people only show the highlight reel. We decided to show the whole story. We wanted transparency. It’s easy to pretend that everything is going good for you, and it is really hard to be real. It’s expensive to be real and not pretend that you have your shit together. We don’t sell courses on how to be an artist and make 100K a year (Which can only really teach you how to sell courses and make 100k a year off of desperate artists). For years, our art business covered the cost of creating videos, blogs, and podcasts, even though it was a financial sinkhole. But we had to share what we have learned. We had to express our truth whether someone was listening or not. We’ve had months where nothing was happening financially with our art. We’ve had some hard times and some pretty good ones and shared them all. That’s life. This level of honesty is hard, but it dismantles the myth of the effortlessly successful artist. It sends a clear message: it’s hard, it’s messy, and you are not alone.

There is no map for this. There is only opportunity. If you’re waiting for someone to give you the “right” rules to follow, stop waiting. Make the whole landscape yours.

What is one thing you have learned on your journey through life? Whether you are an artist or not, we would love to hear it.

Posted on 6 Comments

Our Love Story: From a ’92 Ford Explorer to Rafi and Klee Studios

People often ask Klee and me how this whole “partnership” thing started. They see us navigating our creative careers as artists, jewelers, and authors, or managing the day to day of Rafi and Klee Studios, and assume we’ve always had it all figured out. The truth is, our story didn’t start in a gallery or a studio; it started with a heated argument over a pile of burning wood in 2008.

We met at a bonfire at my brother’s house. I remember arguing with her across the flames about the concept of imperfection. I told her that the idea that people are “imperfect” is only popular because we’re constantly measuring ourselves against standards designed to make us conform.

A close-up view of a fire pit with burning logs, surrounded by grass and a stone base, while a person's legs in jeans are visible in the foreground.

My stance was simple: You are inherently perfect at being you. No one can do a better job of it than you can. It’s when we try to be like someone else, or some standard that we don’t fully embrace, that we run into imperfection. She had questions, the conversation was invigorating, and I’m pretty sure I fell in love with her right then and there. We hugged for the first time that night, and then she vanished. She left on a road trip with her band, and I didn’t see or speak to her for months.

Fast forward a year. My brother and sister in law dragged me to a bar to see a show. I really didn’t want to go, but I went anyway to support them. In a literal sea of drunk people, I saw her. It turned out she was also there as a favor to someone else. We found each other, held hands, and didn’t let go for the rest of the night. We’ve pretty much been together ever since.

A woman smiling while sitting at an outdoor table with a drink in hand, in front of a colorful building with the sign 'Hatchery.'

Not long after that fateful night in 2009, we hit the road. We spent two years living out of a ’92 Ford Explorer, traveling and figuring out who we were as individuals and a team. Since then, we have had so many adventures. We’ve traveled the country, fed the hungry tarpon, stood by the southernmost point of the US, and even investigated Robert the Doll.

Professionally, we’ve built a life that most people only dream of:

  • Started a thriving art business and created thousands of works of art and jewelry.
  • Worked on several large murals in public places.
  • Traveled to over a thousand festivals and held several large art exhibitions.
  • Played countless music gigs and authored several books.
  • Been interviewed in newspapers, magazines, and on television.
  • Were featured in a PBS documentary.
  • Gained a large YouTube following and released a podcast.
A man wearing a bandana and casual clothing is making a playful gesture with his hands, while a woman with long hair, holding a drink, watches him with a surprised expression. The setting appears to be a casual indoor gathering.
An old Ford SUV parked on a grassy area, featuring colorful decorative graphics on the body and a roof rack with items on top.
This was our home for 2 years

We’ve adventured, struggled, fallen on our faces, climbed mountains, and we’ve succeeded. It has been epic. We eventually landed in Pensacola, Florida, where we really planted our roots as professional artists. It was there that we learned the grit of the festival circuit and refined our craft under the sun. But in 2021, we felt the pull toward something new and moved to Oil City, PA to buy our dream house.

Now that we are settled here, we aren’t slowing down. We are currently pouring our energy into the community by starting the Art Syndicate, organizing the Create and Sip events, and hosting monthly art exhibitions at The Exchange. We’ve even been lucky enough to spend time teaching art to the kids at St. Stephen’s. We are getting geared up for an awesome year ahead, filled with more festivals and even bigger exhibitions.

A man with glasses and a straw hat making a surprised expression next to a woman smiling, both taking a selfie in an art gallery with colorful paintings in the background.

I think when I left the corporate world all those years ago, I decided I was going to look at my life as an adventure I didn’t want to sleep through, which is why we try to experience so much. Luckily for me, I found a partner who is there with me enjoying every step of the way.

We have lived, played, and worked together since 2009. Whether we are hunkering down for a massive snowstorm, a hurricane, a tornado, a health scare, or a power outage or simply pushing through a “mountain of work” on a new project we do it together. We’ve faced the negative people who doubted we would ever make it, and we’ve come out stronger on the other side.

I’ve realized that the “perfection” I argued for at that bonfire exists in our life together. When we are in the studio, time stops and nothing else exists; just me, the art, and Klee. It’s been a crazy, wild ride, and every year that passes, I fall more and more in love. I’m looking forward to what the next two decades have in store for us.

We’ll be sharing more about our story of how we met during our live stream event “Love and Jazz Hands” Hope to see you there! Here’s The Link to our next event:

Posted on 2 Comments

Time To Hunker Down: Big Winter Storm On The Horizon

If you’ve been following the blog, you know I’ve been wrestling with some “worry crap” in my gears lately. Well, the universe has a funny way of providing a solution, and this time, it’s arriving in the form of a massive, cold, fluffy blanket.

Western PA is officially under a Winter Storm Warning starting tonight at 7:00 PM and running through noon on Monday. The forecast is calling for anywhere from 9 to 14 inches of snow, with some local “overachievers” possibly hitting the 16-inch mark.

It’s been a hot minute since we’ve seen a storm this significant. Now, Klee and I are originally from the Chicago area, so we aren’t exactly snow-shook. We know the drill. But there’s a difference between “dealing with snow” and “embracing the hunker.”

Person tossing snowflakes in the air while standing in a snowy yard, wearing a green beanie and a warm jacket.

We’ve officially declared a state of emergency at the house, which mostly involves making sure we have enough snacks and art supplies to survive a minor ice age. We hit the store for the essentials:

  • Food (the “hunker down” diet is real).
  • Provisions for the soul (art materials).
  • Mental permission to stay put.

We’ve cleared the calendar and cancelled everything. No meetings, no errands, no outside world. There is one exception, though: teaching art at St. Stephen’s. If they decide to stay open on Monday, we are committed to getting there to inspire the kids.

How, you ask? Well, we have a few old tennis rackets in the garage. If the roads are impassable, we are fully prepared to strap those bad boys to our boots and trek through the drifts like 19th-century explorers. It might look ridiculous, but the “Tennis Racket Snow-Shoe Expedition” is a small price to pay for art education.

Of course, reality eventually sets in. As much as I hate shoveling, I know I’ll be out there at some point, grumbling and clearing a path so we aren’t entombed until spring. I am definitely not looking forward to it, but hey, it’s a great way to work those Glutes and burn off some of those “hunker down” snacks.

A snowy backyard scene depicting a layer of snow covering the ground, trees, and a house in the background. The porch structure is visible in the foreground.

A Note on Shipping: If you have an order with us that was due to ship out, please check your inbox! We may have sent you an email regarding a change in your shipping date while we wait for the plows to do their thing.

Beyond the potential Arctic trek to the school and the inevitable back-breaking shoveling, the plan is simple: undisturbed creating.

Remember that “split brain” I was talking about? The one where I couldn’t stop thinking about websites and e-commerce while holding a brush? A foot of snow is the perfect cure for that. There is something about the world going quiet under a layer of white that makes the studio feel like a sacred sanctuary.

When you literally cannot go anywhere, the pressure to “do” something productive in the business sense just melts away. It’s just me, Klee, the studio, and the snow. No more refreshing analytics. No more worrying about the “what-ifs.”

So, if you need us, we’ll be the ones buried under a mountain of snow, probably covered in paint, and finally finding that timeless flow where nothing else exists.

Stay warm, Western PA. See you on the other side of the drifts!

Posted on 3 Comments

When Your Art Brain Refuses to Leave Business Mode

We’ve all been there. You spend a week glued to a computer chair, fueled by caffeine and the frantic energy of a person possessed with getting the project live. Klee and I just finished a marathon of organizing Create and Sip events and a monthly art exhibition at The Exchange here in Oil City.

We built the schedules, dreamed up themes, and birthed an entire e-commerce section on our website from scratch so ticket buying is a breeze. It was a literal mountain of work. I did the same for our new Art Syndicate. I hit “Publish,” wiped the sweat from my brow, and waited for the internet to explode in applause.

Instead? Crickets.

A person sitting on a green couch, wearing a red bandana and a black jacket, looking at their phone with one hand on their face, appearing deep in thought.

Logically, I know online projects take time to simmer. But my brain? My brain is currently a stubborn mule standing in the middle of the tracks, refusing to move toward the studio.

Usually, after a big push, I transition back into “Artist Mode.” I pick up a brush, the gears shift, and the magic happens. But this week, I’ve got what I call worry crap in my gears.

My noggin is stuck in a loop:

  • “Did I use the right font on that button?”
  • “Why hasn’t the entire local area bought tickets in the last five minutes?”
  • “Maybe if I just refresh the page one more time…”

When I actually stop to look at this mental grinding, I recognize the culprit: Control. I want to control the outcomes. I want to control the sales. I want to control how every person in the Oil City area reacts to these projects. But here is the cold, hard truth: I have a remote control with no batteries. I can build the stage, light the lights, and open the doors, but I can’t force people to sit in the seats. Obsessing over it doesn’t make the success happen faster; it just keeps me from moving into the creative space where the actual magic lives.

I actually did get into the studio this week, but I felt split. Half of me was holding a brush, and the other half was still staring at a spreadsheet in my mind. I don’t know about you, but that “divided house” vibe doesn’t work for me. When I am truly creative, time stops and nothing else exists. It’s just me, the studio, and Klee. If I’m thinking about art business stuff while trying to find the right shade of blue, the magic stays locked in the cupboard.

A man with a beard and glasses sits in an armchair, holding a painted wooden piece in a workshop filled with art supplies and colorful artwork.

The Solution: The “Studio Sanctuary” Reset

If you’re stuck in the “worry crap” loop, you can’t just tell your brain to “stop.” You have to physically and mentally evict yourself from the problem. Here is how I’m greasing the gears to get back to the canvas:

  • Declare a “Project Quarantine”: Step away from the screen. Close the tabs. Mute the notifications. Give the project a “rest period” let’s say 48 hours to a week. The website won’t spontaneously combust if you aren’t staring at it. By putting the project in quarantine, you give the digital dust time to settle and your brain permission to stop patrolling the perimeter.
  • The “Sacrificial” Canvas: Sometimes the jump from “Business Logic” to “Creative Flow” is too steep. Don’t try to paint a masterpiece immediately. Grab a scrap piece of wood or a cheap canvas and just move paint. No goal, no getting it perfect, no “audience.” Just the feeling of the bristles. This is the bridge back to your creative self.
  • Trust the “Simmer”: Think of your business project like a slow cooked chili. You’ve put all the ingredients in, you’ve turned on the heat, and you’ve put the lid on. Opening the lid every five seconds to poke it just lets the heat out. Trust that the work you did is working for you while you are away. You can always come back and “season” it later with updates, but for now, it needs to cook in the background.

Not being able to shift gears means you aren’t moving. And if you aren’t moving, you’re just a parked car idling in a dark garage.

The work is done. The links are live. Now, it’s time to let the “business me” take a nap so the “artist me” can finally play. The studio is calling, and the only way to hear it is to turn off the noise of the “what-ifs.”

Posted on 2 Comments

Love, Jazz Hands, and the “Secret” to 16 Years of Magic

Valentine’s Day is coming up next month, and Klee and I are doing something we have never done before: we’re actually gearing up for it! Right now, both of us are hunkered down in the studio creating something truly special. The challenge we’ve set for ourselves is to create pieces that reflect our deepest values, art that is about loving someone else, practicing self-love, and honoring a love for the world around us. Although Valentine’s Day can often feel like a bit of a Hallmark holiday, I like to think of it more as an opportunity to reflect on love and gratitude. Honestly, with all the bullshit going on in the world right now, we could all use a moment to focus on the light.

A couple sharing a tender moment in front of art displayed on a wall, surrounded by vibrant paintings.

To be real with you, we usually drop the ball when it comes to February 14th. Every year, it sneaks up on us, and every year we say, “Oh yeah, that was today!” But I think I figured out why we always forget: when you’re living in a state of gratitude, every single day feels like Valentine’s Day.

I’ve been in plenty of relationships in my life, but I can honestly say that being with Klee is the first time I have ever experienced true love. We’ve been together for 16 years now, and somehow, it just keeps getting better and better. It’s a rare, beautiful thing to find a partner who makes you feel blessed just by waking up next to them, and I’m lucky enough to know that Klee feels the exact same way.

A colorful vehicle parked on the side of a road, decorated with various items and a website URL visible on the back.
This was our home for the first two years of our relationship as we traveled the country.

Because we’ve been feeling so much extra gratitude lately, we decided it was finally time to actually mark the calendar and celebrate that force with all of you!

You’re Invited To Our Open Studio Event!

On January 30th at 5:00 PM ET, we’re throwing a virtual party! We’re calling it Love and Jazz Hands, and it’s going to be a soulful, fun, and slightly chaotic celebration of the heart. We’ll be:

  • Showcasing New Art: We’ll be debuting those special Valentine’s-inspired jewelry and art pieces we’ve been working on in the studio.
  • Telling Our Story: Want to know the “how we met” saga? We’re finally spilling the beans on our 16-year journey together.
  • Playing Music: What’s a celebration without some tunes? We’ll be playing live to keep the vibes high.
  • Announcing the Winner! This is the big moment. We’ll be choosing the winner of our Koru Spiral Necklace giveaway! This solid, hammer-forged sterling silver piece represents growth and infinite expansion. The perfect symbol for a love that never stops evolving.

Haven’t entered the giveaway yet? Click on the link below If you want to celebrate the power of love, hear some music, and maybe snag a unique piece of art for yourself or a sweetheart, come hang out with us. Let’s make some jazz hands and celebrate the fact that love… real, messy, beautiful love, is the greatest force there is.

CONGRATUALATIONS ALIYU!

See you on the 30th!

Posted on 7 Comments

Victory for the Artists! (But the War Isn’t Over)

I’m doing a literal happy dance in the studio today. If you’ve been following my recent (yesterday) saga with the “Tax Man,” I have some fantastic news: I got my tax exemption back with Blick Art Materials!

As it turns out, my gut instinct was right. A “pencil pusher” at the PA Department of Revenue interpreted the laws incorrectly during an audit. They tried to tell Blick that artists aren’t eligible for the resale exemption.

Spoiler alert: That was what we call an “erroneous opinion,” which is the fancy, polite way of saying they were flat-out wrong. Blick Art Materials were also not taking this lying down, and thus there was a battle on two fronts to support the PA artists!

A cartoon character with a bandana and cape, confidently holding a candle while facing a dark, shadowy creature.
My friend Cassie did this illustration of me, I like to get inspired by it when I go to battle.

You might be thinking, “Wait, you just told us about this yesterday! How did you win so quickly?” Well, let me pull back the curtain: I’ve actually been fighting this battle since the end of November. Anyone who knows me knows that when I set my mind on something, I’m like a dog with a bone. I’m incredibly persistent. My strategy is simple: Do at least one thing every single day.

  • Send an email. (A lot of unanswered emails.)
  • Make a phone call. (A lot of long wait times that ended in nothing.)
  • I may or may not have even “ambushed” our local Representative at a New Year’s Eve party. (Hey, if you’re in the neighborhood, you’re fair game!)

So no, this didn’t happen overnight. It was a slow, steady grind of refusing to take “no” for an answer.

A person with short hair is focused on a workbench, using tools and materials for a creative project, surrounded by various art supplies and equipment.
Would you look at that, looks like Klee is “Manufacturing” jewelry.

Upon further review, it was confirmed that artists and creative businesses absolutely can claim the Manufacturing Exemption. Because, hello? We take raw materials and physically transform them into something entirely new. That is the literal definition of manufacturing!

The problem? Our state tax laws are covered in about fifty years of dust. The current “lingo” was written for massive factories with smokestacks, not for the modern wave of small businesses, creatives, and gig workers.

An artist painting a black crow on a colorful canvas while holding a palette with various paint colors in a studio.
Can it be? Am I “actually” creating something new from the materials I buy?

Why I’m Still Fighting

While I won this specific battle, I’m not hanging up my boxing gloves just yet. It shouldn’t take a “war room” corkboard and three months of hounding officials for a creative business to avoid being double-taxed.

I’m going to continue pushing our Representative so that the laws actually reflect the modern market. We need clear guidelines so the next time a pencil pusher feels like making a flippant decision, the law is there to stop them.

Before I go back to making art, I have to say: Thank you to everyone that sent us a comment of support! Seriously, you guys are incredible.

I’ll keep you guys updated. The battle for the “little guy” continues!

Posted on Leave a comment

The Guide to Realizing You’re Already Perfect

Early 2025 decided to take a giant swing at us when Klee got sick, and for a while there, I just couldn’t handle sharing my thoughts anymore. Luckily, she’s feeling much better, not quite at 100% yet, but enough for me to bore you all with what I think are life lessons. Honestly, taking that forced break was a blessing in disguise because it helped us get our priorities straight as artists and as humans. It made me realize that, without even noticing it, I’d fallen back into the trap of perfectionism.

I’m not talking about having high personal standards, I’m talking about that sneaky need to stay “impressive” for other people. Somewhere along the way, as our popularity grew, I became an uptight stick in the mud trying to keep up. I was jumping through invisible hoops, worried that if I wasn’t constantly “upping my game,” people would see what a miserable impostor I am. I think it happens to all of us at some point. You have more eyes on you and you think, “things were simpler when no one was paying attention”.

An artist painting on a canvas in a workshop, wearing a red bandana and glasses, with colorful bracelets on one wrist.

The funniest thing about trying to be perfect for the world is that people will still find something weird to say. We’ve had hecklers in every area of creation. They will say your art, jewelry, books, videos, or podcasts suck and no one likes you. No matter what you do, someone out there will hate it. At some point you realize how futile it is to try and control their perceptions. You have zero control over whether someone is “astonished” by your work or think it is a pile of garbage. The only thing you can actually control is whether or not you like what you’re creating.

If I’ve learned anything from this year, it’s that perfection is a total lie. You are inherently perfect just doing your personal best with whatever bandwidth you have today. Some days your best is a masterpiece, and other days your best is just putting on pants.

So, go out there and do your best today, no matter what that entails. It will be perfect.

Watch The Video We Made On This Subject

Posted on 12 Comments

Our Ritual for Not Imploding in January

Every year on January 1st, Klee and I go through this weird, collective limbo. It’s like we wake up and suddenly forget how to be human. We just meander around the house, staring at walls, wondering if anything we’re doing actually matters or if we should be, I don’t know, learning to farm alpacas or something.

I think we get so geared up for “The New Year” and all those shiny opportunities that when we actually arrive, we just stand there like, “Now what?”

A woman with a playful smile wearing a turquoise shirt with a ruler graphic and the text 'YOU ROCK' stands next to a man with glasses and a red bandana, wearing a black t-shirt that reads 'ARTROVERTS.' They are in an artistic environment with colorful paintings in the background.

Luckily, the “what” usually involves a massive amount of brain-vomit.

To get our bearings back, we sit down and do a total brain dump. Every idea, every project we’re already doing, and every “maybe one day” dream gets written down until it’s tangible. Then, we spend about ten minutes feeling completely overwhelmed by how long the list is before we start the glorious process of cutting things out.

We only keep the stuff that actually makes us feel excited.

A lot of people set financial goals in the beginning of the year, we set FEELING goals. I think setting strictly financial goals for the year is kind of silly. Sure, you can say you want to make $X amount, but if you aren’t having fun and you’re bored out of your mind, it’s not sustainable. You’ll quit by March. We gravitate toward what gets us fired up. If the excitement is there, the work happens, and the money usually follows the work. At least, that’s what we believe.

A person kneeling on a carpet, organizing a variety of index cards spread out in rows on the floor, while surrounded by furniture.

Once the list is pruned, we tackle the physical disaster area. Everyone knows that when you’re in the middle of a project, the studio (and the house) looks like a creative tornado hit it. Cleaning up the clutter isn’t just about finding the floor again; it’s about making space for new opportunities. You can’t look forward if you’re tripping over a half-baked project from last July.

But the biggest thing we do is a “Superman Check.”

It’s easy to plan for the future and pretend you’re a superhero who doesn’t need sleep. But are you giving yourself breaks? Are you giving yourself time to actually enjoy the journey? Are you giving yourself time to just… think?

A cozy indoor setting featuring two individuals engaged in discussion. One person is seated on a stool, while the other sits on a chair, holding a book. The room is decorated with musical instruments, a calendar, and various notes on the walls, creating an artistic and creative atmosphere.

Here are a few other things we’ve added to the ritual to keep us from burning out:

  • The “Let It Die” List: This is the opposite of a to-do list. We identify the projects or habits that are draining us and officially give ourselves permission to kill them off. If it doesn’t serve the soul, it’s gotta go.
  • The Energy Audit: Instead of a schedule, we look at our energy. When are we most creative? When are we most “introvert-fried”? We try to build our days around how we actually function, not some corporate 9-to-5 dream.
  • Small Wins First: We pick one tiny, easy thing to finish in the first week. It breaks the “limbo” spell and reminds us that we actually know how to get stuff done.
A person playing a xylophone in a music studio filled with various instruments, including guitars and puppets in the background.

Our New Year ritual might sound a bit touchy-feely. It’s all about emotions and how we feel. But let’s be honest: your feelings are the driving force of your business. If you don’t care for them, you’re going to burn out, and a burned-out artist doesn’t make much art.

So, here’s to being awkward, clearing the clutter, and only doing the stuff that makes us feel alive.

Stay brave, stay weird, and let’s make some cool stuff this year.

Rafi

Posted on 5 Comments

Happy New Year, Amazing Humans!

As the calendar turns, we wanted to pause for a moment and simply say: Happy New Year. Not the rushed, confetti-filled kind of happy new year, but the deep breath kind. The kind where you look back, acknowledge what you overcame, and gently turn your face toward to what’s next.

If we’re being honest (and we usually are), 2025 was not an easy year.

One of the biggest challenges we faced was Klee getting sick. Watching someone you love struggle with their health changes everything. The pace of life shifts. Priorities rearrange themselves whether you’re ready or not. There were moments of worry, frustration, exhaustion, and uncertainty that tested us in ways we didn’t expect.

A woman sitting in a hospital bed, wearing a hospital gown, focused on her smartphone while surrounded by medical equipment.

The good news is that Klee is doing much better. Recovery is happening. Energy is returning. Laughter feels lighter again. That said, she’s not fully out of the woods yet, and we’re still taking things day by day. Healing isn’t a straight line. But we ended the year stronger than we started it, more grounded, and feeling hopeful in a way that feels real instead of forced.

Despite everything, we kept smiling.
We kept showing up for life.
We kept finding beauty in the middle of the mess.

That alone feels like a win.

A group of people gathered in a cozy indoor space, with two individuals smiling in the foreground. The atmosphere feels warm and inviting, likely during a meeting or workshop.

There’s something powerful about finishing a hard year with clarity instead of bitterness, gratitude instead of resentment, and hope instead of burnout. That’s where we landed, and we don’t take that lightly.

We know so many of you faced illness, loss, financial stress, burnout, heartbreak, creative blocks, and moments where it felt like you were barely holding things together. If 2025 knocked the wind out of you, please know this: you are not weak for being tired. You are human. We’re sending you all the love.

We are looking forward to 2026. Not because everything will magically be easy. Not because problems disappear overnight. But because something has shifted.

As we step into this new year, our intention is simple:
to keep creating, keep healing, keep showing up honestly, and keep making space for the things that matter most.

A man and a woman standing by a calm river, looking out at the water with green hills in the background and a partly cloudy sky.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for your support, your kindness, your messages, and your patience as we navigated a tough season. We’re so grateful to be walking into this next chapter with you.

Here’s to 2026 and to growth, healing, creativity, and a whole lot more light in the world.

With love,
Rafi & Klee

Watch Our Year End Video Where We Discuss Our Struggles And Wins Of 2025

Posted on 14 Comments

Merry Christmas, You Beautiful Humans

Merry Christmas from our little corner of creative chaos, paint splatters, work in progress ideas, warm mugs, and a whole lot of gratitude.

Christmas has a funny way of slowing things down, even when everything else in life feels loud. The world takes a breath. The inbox quiets. The noise fades just enough for us to hear ourselves think. And sometimes, that’s when the good stuff sneaks in.

I want to tell you a short story.

Last winter, this season didn’t feel magical. It felt heavy. Plans fell apart. Energy was low. Klee got sick, and we knew the year was going to be rough. The kind of year where you’re just trying to get through. The lights still went up, but they felt more like a reminder of what should be than what actually was.

Two people sitting on a couch in a cozy living room, wearing festive hats. The room features colorful artwork on the walls and a warm lamp, creating a welcoming atmosphere.

On Christmas morning, instead of rushing or pretending holiday joy, we do something simple. We sit. No big expectations. No grand gestures. Just quiet, coffee or tea, and the contemplation that even though the year had been hard, we were still here. Still creating. Still choosing each other. Still choosing hope. Still choosing joy, even if it is small and a little shaky.

Joy doesn’t always arrive wrapped and perfect. Sometimes it shows up as overcoming. Sometimes it looks like rest. Sometimes it’s just the decision to keep going when stopping would be easier.

This year feels a little different. Not perfect. Not easy. But rooted. There’s a deeper appreciation for the small things. A deeper respect for how resilient we as humans really are. For how many times we’ve been knocked sideways and still found a way to make something meaningful out of the mess.

If this year was joyful for you, soak it in. Let it fill your pockets for colder days.

If this year was hard, remember that making it to today is an accomplishment. You don’t need to sparkle on command. You don’t need to have it figured out. You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to begin again.

Two people playfully posing in cutouts shaped like Christmas trees, with a star on top, smiling against a festive street background.

Christmas doesn’t have to be about presents, it can be about presence. It’s about choosing love, creativity, kindness, and curiosity even when life doesn’t cooperate. It’s about lighting a small candle and trusting that it’s enough to push back the dark.

So wherever you are today, however you’re celebrating, or not celebrating at all, know this:

You matter.
Your creative heart matters.
Your story is just beginning.
And today is always your day.

From our hearts to yours, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.
Thank you for being here. Thank you for walking this strange, beautiful, creative path with us.

We’ll see you on the other side of the holidays.

Lurve, Rafi and Klee

A smiling couple wearing winter scarves and hats, standing in front of a decorated Christmas tree at night.