Category: PERSONAL UPDATES From Rafi And Klee

Personal Life Updates with Rafi and Klee takes you behind the scenes of their creative journey, offering a heartfelt and humorous glimpse into their everyday lives. From navigating challenges, celebrating wins, and sharing personal growth moments to discussing the unexpected twists and turns of life as artists, musicians, and partners, Rafi and Klee keep it real, relatable, and inspiring. Join them for candid conversations that highlight the beauty and chaos of balancing art, love, and everything in between.

Posted on by — 1 Comment

What Being Sick Taught Me About the Cult of Busy

Hello from beneath a mountain of blankets, surrounded by a small fortress of crumpled tissues and half-empty cups of water.

Currently, I feel like death is knocking at my door. Disclaimer: I am not actually dying. I’m just being incredibly dramatic because I feel like absolute crap. But being forced to pause and stare at the ceiling for hours on end does something funny to a person. When you physically cannot do anything, you’re forced to look at the way you live. And honestly? My fever dreams have been less terrifying than the realizations I’ve had about my daily life.

As I’ve been lying here, unable to do much without needing a 20-minute recovery nap, I started thinking about how we fill our time. I don’t know when “busy” became the norm, but I blame the 90s. In the late 1990s, society collectively decided that being busy was the ultimate badge of honor. The moment people started wearing Bluetooth headsets to the grocery store was the beginning of the end.

An artist painting on a large canvas depicting a figure with a cosmic background, surrounded by other artworks including a blue portrait and a vibrant abstract piece featuring a phoenix. A sign reading 'IF WE CENSOR ART, WE LOSE OUR' is visible next to the artworks.

Not busy? Clearly, you are lazy, unmotivated, and probably still trying to figure out how to program your VCR.

Chronically busy? Wow, look at you! You’re a resounding success! You’re important!

Believe it or not, but creative people are notorious for doing this. We wear our burnout like a shiny medal. We compete in the Overwork Olympics: “Oh, you only slept five hours? Well, I slept three and survived entirely on espresso beans and panic!”

To help me cope with my forced stillness, I’ve been listening to an audiobook called “Do Nothing: How to Break Away from Overworking, Overdoing, and Underliving” by Celeste Headlee.

Let’s be real for a second. Even though I know I am sick, as I lay here, I have one part of my brain that is absolutely freaking out.

It’s screaming at me because I haven’t gotten into the studio. It’s yelling because the yard work is piling up. It’s panicking because I’m not responding to emails. According to that specific, loud-mouthed section of my mind, I am just laying here like a complete waste of space. Let’s call a spade a spade: that side of my brain is an asshole.

But it’s an asshole that has been running the show for a long time. According to the book, before the 24/7 hustle culture of the internet age, the roots of the “cult of busy” were planted way back during the Industrial Revolution and the rise of the Protestant work ethic (Idle hands are the devils work). Suddenly, human beings stopped living by the natural rhythms of the sun and seasons, and started living by the rigid tick of the factory clock.

We stopped measuring a good day by how connected, creative, or content we felt, and started measuring it by “output.” If you weren’t producing a tangible unit of work every hour, you were seen as a moral failure. Fast forward a few centuries, and that historical conditioning has mutated into a full-blown societal obsession.

It is a massive wake-up call. Headlee basically takes our modern work culture, flips it upside down, and shakes it. She explains how our obsession with efficiency and constant labor is actually a relatively new human invention (thanks, Industrial Revolution) and how it’s literally killing our creativity and well-being. It’s an educational slap in the face that reminds us that human beings are not machine parts. We are meant to live, not just produce.

A woman smiling and posing with a blue puppet with orange hair, both looking joyful in a cozy room decorated with guitars and soft lighting.
Klee is not as bad as I am, but she gets the workaholic bug every once in a while.

Listening to that book has made me take a hard, uncomfortable look in the mirror. I am a self-diagnosed workaholic.

For a long time, I used that “busy-ness” as a badge of personal importance. If I’m working hard, I matter, right? But since I’ve had nothing but time to think, I dug up some of the underlying motivations for this. And brace yourselves, this might be a little TMI (Too Much Information), but we’re friends now, so here it is:

My drive to overwork stems from insecurity and a deep desire for people to like me.

Oof. It hurts to write that down. There are a lot of layers to it, but the ultimate symptom of this idea is that I turn things that are supposed to be fun into chores. I make things so much harder than they need to be. It’s like my brain says, “God forbid something is easy! If it’s easy, how will anyone respect the work you do? You have to suffer at least a little bit for it to count!”

Do I do this all the time? No. But I do it enough.

Because of this, I’m officially doing a deep dive into the motivations behind everything I do.

An artist reviewing notes on a cluttered table filled with index cards, while seated in a creative workspace.

I’ve noticed that the initial spark, that beautiful, creative drive that makes me want to start a project in the first place can easily gets snuffed out the moment I label it as “work.” I have this toxic tendency sometimes to make things incredibly serious the second I think I need to take them seriously.

When we strip the joy out of our passions just to prove our worth to some imaginary audience, we lose the whole point of doing them.

Lying here, feeling like a deflated balloon, has given me a weirdly beautiful sense of clarity.

I don’t know how much time I have left on this mortal coil… hopefully a lot, assuming this cough doesn’t actually finish me off, but I do know this: I do not want to spend a single second of it taking myself, or anything else, so seriously that it sucks the joy out of life.

A person stands in a decorated room filled with artwork, including several paintings and festive decorations, such as balloons that say 'Happy Birthday.' The person appears contemplative as they look at the art around them.

So, there you have it. These are my fevered thoughts that I wanted to share in a spurt of consciousness.

If you, too, are a recovering workaholic wearing a badge of busy-ness that is starting to feel incredibly heavy, consider this your permission slip to put it down. Let things be easy. Let things be fun.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a bottle of cough syrup and a completely unproductive nap.

What about you? Have you ever realized you were turning something you love into a chore? How do you protect your “spark” from the cult of busy?

A hand holds a drawing featuring a stick figure pointing at an easel displaying the word 'JOY', surrounded by various signs that read 'WIN!', 'HUSTLE!', 'SUCCESS!', 'SACRIFICE!', and 'NO SLEEP!'.
Posted on by — 15 Comments

I’m Fine, It’s Fine, Everything Is Fine, I’m Totally Fine

Hey everyone, Rafi here. The story I’m about to share is not an example of what you should aspire to. In fact, I suggest not being like me at all. I’ve spent the last two weeks engaged in a wrestling match with a persistent, annoying cough that’s currently making the rounds. Apparently, this cough didn’t get the memo that I have things to do.

Last week, it finally sent me over the edge. The doctor handed me antibiotics, and in my infinite optimism, I thought, “Great! I’ll be back to 100% by lunch.” I did the responsible thing: I canceled my meetings, put my art projects on hold, and essentially transformed into a potato. I was pretty out of it for most of the week.

A man wearing a bandana and glasses smiles next to a woman with short hair and glasses, both standing in front of a display of framed artworks at an exhibition.

By Friday, I felt a glimmer of life. Klee and I drove down to Corry to judge an art show. The town is adorable, and the Corry Arts Guild is doing some truly incredible work. We had a blast meeting everyone and seeing the talent there… right up until my internal battery hit 0% and we had to high-tail it home.

Naturally, I took this “out of steam” feeling as a sign that I should rest. That’s what a sane person would do. However, on Saturday, I woke up, decided I was “better,” and headed into the yard to do much needed yard work. Pro tip: If you are on antibiotics, just rest. I ended up in a total physical shutdown. You might be thinking, that I realized my foul ways and decided that rest was a priority… nope.

A person lying on a couch with a smiley face plush head, wearing a gray jacket and blue jeans, with their arms crossed.

Despite my body waving a white flag, the week kept moving because, apparently, I can’t say no:

  • The 80ft Mural: Met with the Southside Neighborhood Association about the “Laugh and Play” park. We’re working on a grant to repair that massive wall and bring a new mural to life. Fingers crossed!
  • The Elks Club: Another meeting, another mural, and another grant application. I’m basically a grant form-filler at this point.
  • The Classroom: Monday rolled around and I felt wrecked, but duty called. We spent the day making art with some awesome kids. It’s hard to feel sick when you’re surrounded by that much creative energy.
  • Mural Fest Chaos: In between coughing fits, I’ve been organizing Mural Fest. I’m currently neck-deep in sponsorship forms, artist applications, and drawing up plans to build the “Mural Monoliths.” It’s going to be massive, provided I stay upright long enough to see it through.
  • The Night Market: Met with Anna to finalize details for the Oil City Night Market application, logistics, and marketing. Night market is going to be awesome, but at this point, I need to step back.
A teacher demonstrating a project at the front of a classroom, with students seated at tables observing. Art supplies are visible on the tables, and a blackboard with 'Cards for Art Show' written on it is in the background.
Playground with a colorful mural reading 'LAUGH & PLAY', featuring a slide and climbing structure, and a group of people standing nearby.

Something interesting happened while being sick this long that I’ve never really faced before. Maybe it’s because I’m usually always on the move, but my insecurity started to flare up big time. I started thinking I was being boring or a total burden to Klee because I was sidelined. I felt like I was letting everyone down and that I’d somehow lost all my credibility because I couldn’t “do it all” right now.

Because we talk about everything, I brought this up to Klee. She looked at me and said, “No way. You are not a burden and you are definitely never boring.” Then she added something that hit me: “However, I do feel like you do A LOT. So, when you rest, I finally get to rest.”

Turns out, my forced pit stop was actually a breather for both of us.

A person is lying on a couch, covered with an orange blanket, with their face partially hidden, surrounded by pillows.

By Tuesday afternoon, the cough returned with a vengeance while I worked on designs for a new art series I will debut in a September exhibition.

Mind you, I was still on the first round of antibiotics. I spent Wednesday meeting with a wonderful friend and collector who drove into town for a commission, then I pivoted back to the “Grant-Writing-Exhibition-Planning-September-Series-Designing” vortex. Oh, and I had to coordinate the closing for the exhibition at the Exchange.

Last night, my lungs decided they weren’t finished complaining. Back to the doctor I went, and I’ve now been leveled up to “Stronger Antibiotics: Phase 2.”

The moral? “I feel better” or “I’m fine” is a lie told by the part of your brain jar that just wants you to get off the couch so it can collapse in a more interesting location. When your body tells you to sit or lay down, it’s not a suggestion, it’s a mandate. You can’t pour from an empty cup, and you certainly can’t build a Mural Monolith if you’re hacking up a lung every three minutes.

A man with a beard and glasses takes a selfie in a meeting room, with other attendees in the background, some appearing engaged and others distracted.

My Advice to You (I need to start listening to myself)

Listen to your internal “check engine” light. If you try to power through a physical shutdown with work, projects, meetings, and grant writing, your body will eventually take the keys away and lock you in the bedroom. Rest isn’t “lost time,” it’s an investment so you don’t end up on the “Stronger Antibiotics” like I did.

The good news? The grants are moving forward, the Mural Fest plans are solidifying, and the September series is looking incredible in my congested head. I am officially surrendering to the couch for the rest of the week, armed with my new meds and a lot of hot soup. I’ll be back at the easel soon, fully recharged and hopefully cough-free.

Stay healthy out there, and for the love of art, if you get sick, just stay in bed.

Much love, Rafi

Posted on by — 2 Comments

The Myth of the Reclusive Artist

We’ve all seen the movie version of an artist’s life. It’s usually depicted as a moody genius in a paint-splattered turtleneck, staring intensely at a canvas in a dimly lit studio while a single candle flickers. They don’t talk to people. They commune with the Muse.

That’s not at all what we do. Don’t get me wrong, we ARE hermits, but sometimes we do go out and “people”. Especially when it is important.

This week, my “communing” has mostly involved a calendar that looks like a game of Tetris.

If you think being an artist is just playing with paint and feelings, then you might be missing an important component. It’s actually 50% painting and 50% convincing the world that art is the secret sauce that makes a community worth living in and the world better. Here is a look at what “out of the studio” actually looks like for us.

A group of five people engaging in conversation at an art exhibit inside a spacious room with large windows and artwork displayed on black panels.

Tonight, we are hauling gear and hanging dreams at The Exchange for the Emergent Petals show. The opening is next Wednesday, which in “Artist Time” means I have approximately six minutes to make sure nothing falls off the wall. We help curate this show and give our local artists more exposure. I think it is vital for artists and local businesses to work together… It’s a win win.

Meanwhile, I’ve traded my fine brushes for power tools this week. I’m currently building new walls for our first outdoor show in years for the First Friday event on May 1st. Because apparently, I didn’t have enough on my plate, I decided building a new show set up would be a cinch. It’s not, but I’m not going to tell myself that.

A person standing in front of a striped tent structure in a backyard setting, with a table displaying assorted items.

We love the studio. The studio is safe. But this week? The community called, and we answered:

  • Monday: We hit a 6:00 PM community meeting to talk Revitalization of our area. It turns out, when you ask a community what they want, they don’t just want pretty pictures, they want a soul. Artists need a voice at these tables because if we aren’t there, the “revitalization” might just be more grey parking lots. Don’t get me wrong, parking is important, but we also need color and intrigue in our lives.
  • Yesterday: We met with Ashley (who is AMAZING) at the Transit building. That place is a massive, gorgeous resource, full of artists, and we’re brainstorming ways to make it a hub where the community and artists can actually collide. We also discussed affordable rental of spaces for pop up art shows and fun artist lead events.
    • Arma Fest Meeting: September is coming, and so is the second year of a giant event in our town. We want to help make the artist section something epic and wonderous to behold. It’s going to be legendary.
    • Public Art Board: BIG NEWS! We secured the grant for the Mural Fest, which means Mural Fest is officially a GO!
    • Tomorrow: Meeting with the Makerspace. We have funding, we have momentum, and we’re about to get that sucker moving to full epicness.
  • Friday: We’re headed to City Hall. Klee and I are using our technical know-how to help City Council set up live streaming. Why? Because transparency is awesome. We are also going to discuss Mural Fest and get approvals. Then, we’re off to Pollen Nation in Franklin to talk art initiatives, art workshops, and whatever other fun art events we could think of.
A whimsical painting of a brown, cartoonish figure sitting cross-legged holding a sign that says 'SHHH' against a vibrant green background.

In the middle of all this civic duty, I’m designing a new series of art for the 24 Minis show coming up this year at the Manos Gallery. I’m calling them “Cute Cryptids.” Think Mothman, but make him adorable enough to grab a coffee with. We also have the usual commissions and orders to fulfill, so we are in the studio every minute we can be.

Of course, because it’s spring, we are also in Spring Cleaning Mode. As I type this, I am literally barricaded in by filming gear, microphones, and random art equipment because I am clearing out the media studio. It’s less “curated aesthetic” and more “hoarder-chic,” but we’re making progress!

Why Leave the Creative Cave?

A man wearing glasses and a bandana holds a sign that says 'Time for Hibernation' with cartoon-like illustrations.

I’m not suggesting you book this many meetings or go to that many public things. Honestly, this schedule is a little bit ridiculous and not the usual. We usually draw a hard line and limit our out of studio community time to two a week. But sometimes, there are things we don’t want to miss. Here is some food for thought:

“It’s not just about the artwork you put on a wall, it’s about who you are in the rooms where decisions are made.”

As artists, it’s easy to hide in our studios. But making an impact can mean getting out there and meeting the local business owners, the city council, and the neighbors. Whether you’re in a big city or a specific neighborhood, showing up to represent you matters.

After a week of being “Professional Community People,” we get to end it with our favorite part: hanging out with our awesome Rogues on Patreon for our live stream podcast recording on Sunday. It’s the perfect reminder of why we do all this, the connection.

Don’t just paint your community, help build it. Even if it means wearing “real clothes” five days in a row.

Person sitting in a cozy, patterned chair, wearing a fuzzy, hooded robe, with a slight smile on their face. The background includes a desk with a laptop, a lamp, and colorful artwork on the walls.

Stay creative!

Posted on by — Leave a comment

Why Are We Not In The Studio Creating?

Right now, Klee and I should be in the studio. I should be wrestling with a canvas and she should be making something shiny and ancient-looking. Instead, we are currently buried under a mountain of receipts, spreadsheets, and what I like to call “other stuff.” You know the that vague, soul-sucking category of adult responsibilities and uninvited paperwork that seems to multiply in the dark like evil gremlins.

It is tax season, the time of year when the government asks, “So, exactly how many tubes of paint did you buy in July, and was that a ‘business expense’ or a cry for help?”

Just remember, even when you are stuck doing paperwork, you are still an artist. You don’t stop being a creator just because you’ve traded your paintbrush for a calculator. I’ve realized that it is entirely possible to have fun even when you are doing things that have absolutely nothing to do with your art. In fact, if you can make it fun, then it is not as much of a drag. Of course, the smart thing to do is just hire someone… but if you are anything like Klee and I, you will be tackling it yourselves because…

I don’t know why. Either way, here is what we do to make it fun.

An artist is painting on a canvas in a workshop, wearing a red bandana and glasses, surrounded by art supplies.

1. Turn It Into A Game!

Listen, the first time we did our own taxes over 15 years ago, we cried. There was no fun and games. However, we have learned a lot over the years and are at a point where we can make the process fun. When Klee and I are tackling our taxes, we turn it into a weird sort of performance art. We make it a challenge. Who can find the best deduction? If you treat the mundane tasks like a scavenger hunt for your own life, the “boredom” starts to lose its power over you.

2. Put on the Financial Cape

As I’ve said before, you have to wear the financial hat to keep the art hat. But nobody said the financial hat has to be boring. I like to imagine I’m a high-stakes accountant for a rebel alliance. I’m not just “paying bills”, I’m funding a creative revolution. Keeping our overhead low and our budget strict is the only reason we get to keep doing the fun stuff. When you look at your taxes as the price of admission for your dream life, they get a little easier to stomach.

3. Staying True Through the Drama

Then there’s the “other stuff” that isn’t paperwork. The drama, the life surprises, the things that try to knock you off your North Star. It’s easy to get grumpy when you feel like your time is being stolen. But even in the middle of a “bad Tuesday,” you can choose your energy. I’ve found that if I approach the “other stuff” with the same curiosity I bring to a new painting, the drama doesn’t stick as much. I’m just an artist observing a very strange, very bureaucratic world. It’s all material to be shared one way or another.

A man in a green animal onesie with horns and a woman in a silver dress sitting on a couch in a brightly lit room decorated with art, filming a video with a camera and microphone.

4. The Celebration of the Small Wins

When we finally finish a batch of numbers, we take a break and celebrate. We high-five over the fact that we survived another round of being “responsible adults” before we dive into the next batch.

The secret to living the artist life isn’t about avoiding the mundane, it’s about refusing to let the mundane turn you into a drag of a person. You can bring beauty, love, and joy to just about anything. Okay, maybe not “everything” but you can definitely bring some self joy and a healthy dose of sarcasm.

If you’re stuck doing something today that feels like the opposite of creative, remember this: you are still the one holding the pen. Whether you’re signing a painting or a tax form, do it with your own flair. Don’t let the “shoulds” and the “must-dos” drain your battery.

Focus on who you are and keep your sense of humor intact. The studio will still be there when the paperwork is done, and you’ll be a lot more focused when you get there because you didn’t let the “other stuff” steal your spark.

Now, I’m going back to this spreadsheet. wish me luck!

Posted on by — 7 Comments

Why Do Some People Think Artists Don’t Have “Jobs”?

I can’t even tell you how many times throughout my creative life I’ve heard this gem. We’ve all heard it. That one sentence that lands in your gut like a wet sandwich. It’s usually preceded by the deadliest three words in the English language: “No offense, but…”

During a recent meeting of the Organization that shall not be named, the person that is supposed to be in charge looked at the only two artists at the meeting and dropped this absolute gem:

“No offense, but as artists, you have more time than the other people here who have jobs.”

Cue the record scratch.

Now, I wasn’t at this specific meeting. To be honest, after the recent tsunami of high-school drama with these people, I needed some space for my own peace of mind. If I had been there, you can bet I would have had a few choice words about that statement. Luckily, we have several friends who go to these meetings who are creative advocates, and they told us the story.

An artist with a beard and glasses is painting on a blue canvas, depicting a figure in dynamic motion, while seated at an easel in a studio.
A person working on a craft project at a wooden table, focused on shaping a small object with both hands, surrounded by various tools and materials in a workshop.
Creating Art And Jewelry Doesn’t Just Magically Happen

Unfortunately, the comment wasn’t challenged by a single person there. Not one. Apparently, that kind of behavior is so normalized that no one really noticed it. It just hung there in the air like a bad smell that everyone decided to ignore. That being said, one of the artists at the meeting resigned the day after. That seems to be a common theme from the overwhelming amount of messages I have received from creative people in our area after reading about my own struggles. I think it is ignorant to tell ANY creative that their professional lives don’t actually exist.

Now, I know what you might be thinking, “Rafi, it’s not a big deal, is it?” to which I respond, “Oh yes it is, and here is why.”

A man with a bandana sits at a bedside table in a hospital room, focusing on a notebook, while a woman in a hospital gown uses a laptop. An IV stand is visible nearby, and the room has soft lighting.
Even When Klee Was Sick In The Hospital We Had A Business To Run

Making a statement like this is just as ignorant as an artist looking at a person with a “real” job and saying:

“No offense, but you have a 9-5, which means you have way more time than I do. You get weekends off, your workday ends early, and you get vacation and holidays off. Not to mention, you have a guaranteed paycheck, so you clearly have a lot more free time.”

See how ridiculous that sounds? It’s absurd to generalize what someone else has going on, especially when you are completely ignorant of what their day-to-day reality actually looks like. Whether you’re in a studio or an office, everyone is juggling a life, a career, and a set of responsibilities that a “no offense” comment can’t begin to cover. Honestly, I love my career and what I do and put out there. Just because I don’t hate my job, doesn’t make it any less of a time commitment.

Three individuals engaged in a discussion around a table filled with papers and notebooks in a modern workspace.
We Have Several Meetings A Month (at least one a week) With Several Boards And Committees Where We Are Helping Revitalize Our Area

This problem isn’t just isolated to the one organization or a person. It is a problem you see just about everywhere you look. Apparently, there is a widespread belief that being a professional artist is basically just frolicking through meadows, waiting for a “muse” to whisper sweet nothings into your ear while you wait for your sourdough starter to peak. I don’t think many people can actually conceptualize what we really do.

A speaker stands in front of an audience in a cozy room with a projector screen displaying mountains. The audience includes several individuals seated at tables, some taking notes or using their phones.
We Teach Artist Workshops
A group of people participating in a painting class, each working on their canvases while seated at tables. Decorative evergreen trees are visible in the background.
We Organize And Teach A Monthly Create And Sip
A teacher with a red bandana demonstrates an activity to students at a classroom table, while a chalkboard in the background displays drawings and mathematical equations.
We Teach Kids Art Every Week
A group of people engaged in conversation inside an art gallery, with artwork displayed on black panels in the background and large windows letting in natural light.
We curate and organize a monthly art exhibition for local artists

Here is why that comment is the Olympic Gold Medalist of Ignorance:

1. The “Job” is the Business

Being a professional artist isn’t just “making stuff.” It’s being a CEO, a Marketing Director, a Logistics Manager, and a Tax Accountant all at once. If an artist isn’t at their “desk,” they are probably:

  • Negotiating contracts.
  • Wrangling shipping logistics.
  • Promoting their business.
  • responding to emails.
  • planning projects, shows, and exhibitions.
  • Managing a social media presence.
  • And figuring out how to balance a creative career with all their other responsibilities.
Person working at a desk with multiple computer monitors, a microphone, and a camera. The workspace is cluttered with papers and office supplies.
There is a lot that happens behind the scenes. Websites, accounting, inventory, logistics, and much much more.

2. We Don’t Have “Off” Hours

When you have a “job,” you typically get to clock out. You go home, you watch Netflix, and you stop thinking about the quarterly spreadsheets. An artist? We are always on. Our “free time” is spent figuring out how to pay our bills and responding to client DMs at 11:00 PM because that’s when opportunity strikes.

A man and a woman smiling in an art gallery, with colorful paintings on the brick wall behind them and various art pieces displayed on a shelf.
Apply For And Develop Relationships With Galleries And Local Arts Organizations

3. The Lack of a Safety Net

“People with jobs” often have things like… oh, I don’t know… guaranteed salaries. Artists are the ultimate grinders. We don’t have “more time” we have more stakes. If we aren’t working, we aren’t eating. Every hour is a billable hour. Our bills don’t magically get paid because we are artists, we have to make things happen to pay our bills.

The funniest part of this whole saga from the beginning? Creative organizations literally cannot function without creative people. When you insult the creative people who are there to help, you’re essentially trying to fly a plane while insulting the engines. Good luck with the landing!

A person kneeling in a bathroom, holding plumbing tools, with an open cabinet and a sink in the foreground.
Home Repairs, Bills, And All The Other Life Stuff We Are Responsible For

To my fellow “jobless” creators who may have run into the same comment:

  • Your time is sacred.
  • Your business is valid.
  • Your “free time” is actually “unpaid labor that makes the world beautiful.”

If someone tries to pull the “no offense” card on you, just remember: they are projecting their own lack of imagination. Keep building your own foundation, keep charging what you’re worth, and keep “frolicking” your way to success.

Two individuals signing copies of a book titled 'Dear Artist, Don't Give Up!' at a table filled with stacked books and stationery.
We Write, Edit, Format, Record, Publish, And Distribute Our Artist Books
A woman wearing headphones smiles while sitting at a music production setup with a microphone, computer, and keyboard in a colorful, art-filled room.
We write, Record, Edit, And Distribute Our Own Music

To Everyone Who Reached Out About My Recent Experience

I want to thank you for reaching out with your experience in dealing with the same drama I dealt with recently. Whether it was online, or the many members of our community who showed their support. Thank you. I had recently pulled back from saying anything about the individuals in question on our public forum, because honestly, I was over it. And I still am. However, they don’t seem to be done with me. I think they are under the impression that no one tells us what is happening behind closed doors and what they are saying. It’s kind of stupid honestly. So, as far as I’m concerned, I’m done with it, and I am moving on. But if they come at me, I’ll be filling you in on the drama. The truth is, I just don’t care enough about them, but I won’t stay quiet when attacked. So, as long as they back off, we are good.

If you are curious about what happened you can read the full story here.

Posted on by — 29 Comments

Are We In A Battle With Boil Kitty Farts Council?

I had hoped not, but apparently, we are.

Recently, I had written a private blog about a bad experience I had with a local arts organization. That blog shot up to the top of google search when you looked up our town. Some folks felt concerned, because they felt that my blog made the town look bad. I decided at that moment, to let go and forget the issue. I took down the blog and carried on with my life. However, it has recently come to my attention that the people involved are still using my name in a derogatory way.

So, the updated story is going back up and I’m not keeping it private. I’ve changed some names so it wouldn’t pop up to the top of the search engines, but here’s the full story in all of it’s glory.

To all those people out there who are concerned about bad publicity, I’m sorry, but I’m simply sharing my experience and if you don’t want bad publicity, don’t let people who represent you act like a bunch of mean girls in high school.

A group of people engaged in conversation inside an art gallery, featuring several artworks displayed on black panels, with large windows letting in natural light.
How We Support Artists: Organized The First Of Many Exhibitions In Town

So, recently, I started A Local Art Syndicate, a collective of artists in our area. Our intent was to bridge the gap between artists, galleries, open calls, and arts organizations, and share resources. Simple. We wanted to build bridges and give artists a voice. Lately, I’ve discovered that some people prefer sitting on a pile of rocks in the middle of a river, screaming at anyone who tries to bring a shovel and build a bridge.

We reached out to our local arts organizations and received a warm embrace and excitement about what we were doing… except one. I should say, three people who head an organization (who all happen to be related) were the problem. Unfortunately for the other people in that organization (who are actually pretty awesome) my interactions have been with these three. It all started with a “stupid form” for an event that exposed a deep-seated culture of gatekeeping and high-school drama within the organization that we will call the “Boil Kitty Farts Council.”

Buckle up. It gets weird.

A diverse group of fifteen people smiling and posing together in a room with wooden accents and neutral walls.
Our First Art Syndicate Meeting

It started with me trying to be helpful. (Mistake #1).

I added their upcoming event to our Art Syndicate calendar to promote it. Then, a friend and artist mentioned they were getting major pushback for questioning the application form and that no one had signed up because the form didn’t make sense. Then, more artists from the Syndicate started emailing me, asking, “Rafi, what is this form even for?”

Because we want to support local “Farts” organizations, we decided we would do the event and decided to look at it. I was like, WTF is this? It was a “Vendor Form” for an “Exhibition” where you couldn’t actually “Vend.” It was like being invited to a “Cooking Competition” where you aren’t allowed to turn on the stove. They wanted you to become a partner, but the benefits were vague and confusing. It was all over the place.

A group of four people engaged in conversation in an indoor setting, with a man wearing a red bandana and black attire gesturing while speaking.
We’ve organized Many Art Festivals, Events, And Shows and thought our input could help.

I sent an email to get some clarity and ask if we could make some changes to the form. The response? A bunch of justifications, a vocabulary lesson on what the word EXPO meant, a weird reminder that the sender had a business degree, and a note that they were “born and raised here.”

Cool story. But… is there any plan to fix the form at some point?

I responded and thank them for their clarity (I was being polite) and told them that many of my concerns were not addressed. So, I mentioned that I would come to the meeting and address the board with my questions. No big deal, I just want to help.

The person in charge then emailed me and said I couldn’t address the board because I wasn’t on the agenda, which is a violation of how public boards actually work. I called this person on the phone to clear the air. She told me her daughter had taken my initial email personally. (Because nothing says “Professional Board Member” like letting your family’s feelings dictate public policy.) I told her: “I want the event to succeed!” We talked about budgets and how the city has their hands tied and whatnots. It was friendly enough. However, when I asked again to speak at the meeting. Suddenly, the wall went back up. “You’re not on the agenda.” I said, “Cool, we’ll come anyway as members of the public.”

The day of the meeting we walked into a room and the vibe was… icy. It was like a “Be On the Lookout” alert had been issued for us.

A group selfie featuring three people in front of an art exhibit displaying colorful paintings on the wall.
We have gone to several meetings in town and know a lot of people. We have never experienced people tensing up when we walk in a room.

During the meeting, I used the word “sketchy” to describe the form. I didn’t realize that in Boil Kitty, calling a form “sketchy” is apparently a declaration of war. I know there could have been better words I could have used, but in all honesty, it was sketchy and raised red flags. The form was a total misdirect. “Sign up to be a vendor at this expo! Well, no not really, you are actually signing up to be a partner… and no, you can’t vend… but you DO get a table.”

The next morning, the “Legacy” email went out. Apparently, my critique of a form had “tainted the 30-year legacy” of the Farts Town-full. I wasn’t mentioned by name but I’m the only one who said those words. She name dropped a bunch of people who have done awesome things for the arts community (she did this twice in our email exchanges) and associated her name with them. The funny thing is that we have also worked with those people and they would never behaved the way she was behaving.

Then the rumors started. Leadership was reportedly going to local shops asking, “Have you heard the drama about the form?” I hate gossip. It’s juvenile. So I wrote a blog laying out the truth. Transparency is the best disinfectant, right? Well, apparently, they prefer the dark alleys of hearsay. There were other things said about us that I will not share because I don’t want the people that came forward to get any backlash. Let’s just say, they were spreading lies about us.

I then sent a formal complaint to the full board before sending it to the City Manager. The response? Total silence. At this point, I realized this whole situation was consuming my peace. I didn’t want a war over a form for an event nobody was signing up for anyway. So, I took the high road. I retracted the complaint. I took down the blog. I offered to help as a guest. I thought being the “bigger person” would end it. Spoiler: I was very wrong.

A graphic artwork featuring the text 'Creatives don't need permission to be called an artist', with a split design of green and dark colors.
Every time I interacted with them on any issue they made it a point to say they represent all the arts and all creatives. To which I was like, “who the heck do you think I’m talking about??”

Then our friend and artist on the board resigned. And how did the leadership handle it? They used my name to attack her in the response to her resignation.

They accused her of bringing her “friends” to the meeting to “secretly record” a public meeting (which is a legal right, by the way). They used my name as a weapon to bully a volunteer who was already emotionally tormented by the whole situation.

The truth is, from the beginning, these individuals have compartmentalized information, twisted the facts, and straight up lied to plead their case. I tried to organize a mediation, so we could address them and the board, and although they agreed to it, the idea of mediation just vanished.

We later found out they were adversarial before we even had our first Syndicate meeting. They saw us as a threat before we ever said a word. Recently, we’ve seen them at other meetings and events, and have experienced the cold shoulder and avoidance. It feels like high school drama. It’s pretty stupid.

So why am I sharing this story again? Because I’m done staying quiet about it. We were asked not to “make the town look bad” by talking about one of its organizations. But listen: I’m not making the town look bad. I’m just holding the flashlight. If the light shows a mess, don’t blame the light. So many people came out of the woodwork that had had similar experiences, yet nobody is talking about it. By avoiding the problem, no change happens.

So, what am I hoping to accomplish? Do I want them fired and take over the Farts Council? Although this is one of the rumors they spread, I have zero interest in taking over. I also don’t need anyone to step down or be fired, but there needs to be accountability. There needs to be a system where people of the community can give feedback without backlash. Honestly, it needs to be more professional. It should be a safe place where people can disagree and keep it from devolving into high school drama. And although I love and adore most of the board members, at no point in time did any of them reach out to address my concerns. Everyone just stayed quiet and avoided the drama that was escalating. How is that acceptable?

What are my plans moving forward? We have always had a very public presence when it comes to helping artists and showcasing what we do. You guys also know that I call it like I see it? So, I’m going to continue to do what I have always done, share my experiences with you. I am not however going to go head to head and make it personal. I’m not going to name names or be hateful in our videos, blogs, and other forms of expression, but you sure as shit know I’m going to use it as examples in my materials for artists. So, at the end of the day, their behavior will be used in videos, blogs, podcasts, and books, to share best practices with the creative community in dealing with people like this.

So there it is! That’s the full story up to now for full transparency. I may do a video in the future because I actually have footage of a lot of this. I was filming a week in the life when this weird situation took over my existence. But we’ll see.

A person's feet resting on a balcony railing with two red folding chairs in the background and a view of houses and greenery.

Tips for My Fellow Artists Who Might Be Dealing With Something Similar

  1. Don’t judge the whole Board: Most people are there to help. It’s usually just one or two bad actors poisoning the well.
  2. Don’t get pulled into the drama: Keep your focus on your art. Speak your truth, but don’t gossip, it will make you just as bad as them. Most importantly, don’t get emotionally pulled into their drama and feel like a victim to them. You are not.
  3. The Truth is the defense: If an organization looks bad because you told the truth, there are issues that need addressing.
  4. Keep the receipts: Save every email. Documentation is the only cure for a rumor mill. I have all documentation and recordings of these interactions.
  5. Know when to walk away: If they don’t respect your time, they don’t deserve your talent. You don’t need a seat at the table especially if the don’t respect you. Doesn’t mean you can’t share your experience with others.

The honest truth? Organizations like this run themselves into the ground. Creative organizations need creative people to function. If you run all the creatives off the board… you’re just a group of people sitting in a room talking about things you know nothing about.

Stay rebellious, stay creative, and don’t let the gatekeepers win.

Posted on by — 2 Comments

Battle With Boil Kitty Farts Council, Is It Over?

I think it might actually be behind us… at least I hope so.

I wasn’t going to post an update about this because hopefully it is over, but many of you have reached out asking for an update. We’ve also had a lot of people in our community reaching out and rather than tell the story a hundred times, here is the update. Things are quiet now since I submitted a formal complaint. However, after I posted the full story about what happened online, things got a little crazy. Again, buckle up, it gets weird.

Shortly after the last blog went live, I began hearing from sources that the three that “shall not be named” on said board were absolutely outraged. Surprisingly, this outrage wasn’t because they had acted unprofessionally, but that we had recorded the public meeting we went to. Word on the street was that they were even trying to convince other board members that recording a public meeting was “illegal.”

Now, I wasn’t at this particular meeting because at this point, I’m not interested. However, some of what was told to me suggest that they were talking about the idea of taking some kind of action. I don’t know what action they would take, but I’m not concerned.

Quick Fact Check: Under the Pennsylvania Sunshine Act, I have an absolute right to record. You can’t write a bylaw that overrides state law anymore than you can write a bylaw that says the Earth is flat. It doesn’t work that way.

A man wearing a red beanie stands on the steps of a library, holding three children's books. Colorful painted book spines are displayed on the steps, featuring titles like 'Goodnight Moon' and 'Where the Wild Things Are.'

Honestly, I wasn’t bothered too much by any of what was said at the board meeting, it’s what happens behind the scenes that caused me to take action. I started getting messages from community members who were being bullied. one told me that within five minutes of commenting on my blog in support, they received a bullying email from you know who. To be honest, this has been my biggest problem with this entire situation. Since this all started, people have come forward with stories of some of the things they have said about us via text, phone call, email, or in person.

Some were told they needed to “cut off communication” with us or it would “hurt their reputation or business.” One person was even told that being associated with us was “dangerous” for their reputation because we can’t be “trusted”.

I was at a total loss. As far as I know, it’s a city run board, not the Sopranos. To use a leadership position to bully the local community and business owners into silence is, quite frankly, despicable.

An artist in a studio examining colorful paintings on a table, surrounded by art supplies and decorations.

At this point, I wrote a formal complaint and sent it to the board and the city manager. I’m done playing this childish game. It starts like this:

Dear Members of the “Dark” Council,

Although what is laid out in this email is the act of three individuals on your board, I am addressing the full board for the sake of transparency, and holding the organization accountable for actions taken by your leadership. For this, I am sorry. I love and respect most of you, but this behavior cannot continue and has gotten out of hand. At this point we are dealing with a smear campaign and people in our community are being bullied.

I didn’t actually write “dark” Council but again, I want to make sure this doesn’t go to the top of google.

A graphic illustration featuring a cartoon shark attacking a person, with blood depicted. The text 'OIL CITY' is at the top, followed by 'WE DON'T HAVE SHARKS' and 'WE HAVE ARTISTS' at the bottom.
We love this town, and honestly, EVERY organization and members of said organizations have ALWAYS been welcoming and receptive to us. This is the ONLY time we have experienced this type of behavior. So, you know, it’s not the town.

Where We Stand Now

So, that’s it. I sent that email last week and haven’t heard back. I also haven’t heard of any gossip spreading or rumors, so they have either stopped or are being more sneaky about it. Either way, as long as it doesn’t effect us or our friends, I don’t care. We are moving forward with the Art Syndicate, working with the many professional and transparent organizations in this town and other towns that actually care about artists. As for the Boil Kitty Farts Council? The light is on. The receipts are saved. And the “Legacy” they were so worried about? Well, they’re the ones writing the final chapters. Hopefully they’ll write some good ones from here on out.

Two artists are painting a mural on a brick wall. One artist, wearing a plaid shirt and a red bandana, is focused on creating a blue silhouette of a person. The other artist, with a ponytail and wearing a pink top, is sitting and painting another section of the mural. They are surrounded by paint supplies on the ground.

Tips for Artists (Or Community Members): Dealing with “Gatekeeper” Organizations

If you find yourself in a situation where a local public organization feels more like a private club than a community resource, here are a few things I’ve learned through this process:

  • Know Your Local Laws: If an organization is appointed by the city or receives public funding, they are likely subject to transparency laws like the Sunshine Act and the Right-to-Know Law. They cannot legally ban you from recording a meeting or speaking during public comment.
  • Keep the Receipts: Never rely on “he-said, she-said.” If someone sends a weird email or a threatening text, save it immediately and ask the people involved to do the same. Screenshot everything. If you have a phone call that feels off, follow it up with an email: “Just to confirm what we discussed on the phone…” This creates a paper trail that is very hard for them to ignore later.
  • Don’t Let the “Legacy” Talk Intimidate You: Just because an organization has been around for 30 years doesn’t mean they are above reproach. A legacy is maintained through good behavior, not by silencing critics and name dropping people from the past in your emails. If your feedback is met with “But we’ve always done it this way,” it’s usually a sign that change is overdue.
  • Find Your “Syndicate”: There is strength in numbers. Gatekeepers thrive on isolating artists and community members and making them feel like they’ll be “blacklisted” if they speak up. When you stand together as a collective, that “blacklisting” threat loses its power.
  • Go Through Official Channels: If the board leadership is the problem, don’t just argue with them, go to their supervisors. For city-appointed boards, that means the City Manager or City Council. They are responsible for the people they appoint, and they generally don’t want the liability of unethical board members.
  • Protect Your Peace: You don’t have to win every argument to win the war. Sometimes the best move is to walk away, build your own table, and let the old guard realize they’re sitting in an empty room.
A smiling couple in the foreground, wearing fun hats, with a busy restaurant scene in the background featuring people crafting at tables.

Thank you to everyone who has reached out about this, we appreciate you all so much. And to all our community members who showed their support, thank you for coming forward, I know it wasn’t easy. Like I said earlier, I’m hoping this is the last update I will share about this and that this whole issue is behind us. Fingers crossed!

Posted on by — 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 by — 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 by — 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!