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Selling Art Is Like Talking About Tacos

The path of pursuing a career in the arts for the last fifteen years has taught me that the journey is both as simple and as complex as you can imagine. Early on, I spent way too much time wrestling with the “what.”

What to paint, what to post, and which “important” people I should be bothering. I was essentially waiting for a miraculous event or a stray lightning bolt to finally put me on the path to my dream life. I used to think that when someone finally noticed me, then I would do the work. I thought once the work sold, I’d paint bigger, or once I got the grant, I’d finally start that new body of work.

But the reality is always the other way around. You don’t get the feast before you show up to the kitchen and cook the meal. (And trust me, trying to eat a “theoretical” feast is a great way to starve.)

A woman smiling while posing with a colorful puppet, seated in a cozy room with guitars and decorative lights in the background.

We often think that success leads to happiness, but psychological research suggests the opposite is true. According to the “Broaden and Build” theory developed by Dr. Barbara Fredrickson, positive emotions like interest and love do more than just make us feel fuzzy in the moment, they actually broaden our sense of possibility.

When you start from a place of doing what you love, your brain is chemically primed to see opportunities that a stressed out, “discipline only” mind would completely miss. This isn’t just fluffy, “live laugh love” advice found on a discounted throw pillow. Love and curiosity trigger the release of dopamine, which enhances creative problem solving and cognitive flexibility. By starting with the thing you love, you are literally building the mental resources needed to sustain a creative career. You’re basically bio hacking your way to better “arting.”

This is why focusing on building up your follower count, stressing about the business side, or trying to create what sells will destroy your creative practice. You have to remember why you started creating in the first place.

A simple illustrated sketch of a stick figure with arms raised in joy, looking at its reflection in a mirror, accompanied by the text 'Make someone smile every day... Start with yourself.'

The real secret is that the vision must always come before the validation. We often wait for a sign to know if we are successful, but devotion is required long before the proof arrives.

It is not about a hardcore, drill sergeant lifestyle of waking up at 4:00 AM to scream at a canvas while doing burpees. It is about really loving what you do and wanting to spend more time doing it. As a byproduct of that time, you get better. You articulate your vision more clearly, and people eventually respond to that.

Just this morning, some awesome person purchased one of my paintings. While that feels semi normal to me now, it was once a burning hope for a younger version of myself who just wanted someone to want the things I loved creating. I’ve realized that I am only responsible for nurturing my own vision and falling in love with the process. People can sense when things are forced or formulaic, but they truly feel passion. When you resonate with your own work, the world eventually starts to resonate with it too.

A man with a beard and bandana sits on a couch surrounded by various paintings. He holds two paintings featuring women with red hair and sunflowers, with additional artwork displayed on the couch and a larger piece behind him.

My advice is that your focus shouldn’t just be on “scaling a business” or “optimizing an art career,” but on a deeper question: How can I make my entire day a fun work of art? When the path is enjoyable, you don’t have to force yourself to show up.

Think about it: no one has to force you to go out for tacos. You want that spicy, crunchy, delicious goodness. You don’t need a motivational speaker or a $1500 self help marketing course to get you to the taco stand.

If you are struggling with a creative or business block, ask yourself if you are making the work for you or if you are following some kind of external pressure of things you think you “should” do. When you make something you are proud of, you naturally want to share it with the world… just do that. The connection will happen on its own. You don’t have to force it, despite what the marketing gurus (who usually only sell courses on how to be a marketing guru) have to say.

Connecting with other people is just a byproduct of your excitement. Think about it: if you are excited about that taco place you just experienced and tell your friends about it, you’ve become an expert in marketing. You boast about the atmosphere, the experience, and the salsa that changed your life. You want to share that info with everyone you know.

Do the same with what you create. That is fun and “marketing” at its best.

Let’s keep it simple. Get in the kitchen, have some fun, and go out and talk about your creative tacos.

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Bringing Bourbon Street to Seneca Street In Oil City… What?

We are stupid excited right now. There is something fun and strange in the neighborhood for February. Our little town never ceases to amaze us especially when it comes to having fun.

Look, if you would have told us a few years ago that we’d be helping prep an event in Oil City that is part of a a full-blown Mardi Gras celebration on Seneca Street, we probably would have laughed and then immediately asked where to sign up.

Honestly, we are so incredibly stoked about this. There is something so special about watching this town wake up and start doing cool, vibrant stuff like this. It’s exactly the kind of energy we dreamed of when we joined Art Night At The Exchange. Seeing the community come together not just for a drink, but for a shared experience is why we love being here.

A vibrant Mardi Gras event poster featuring two dancers in colorful costumes and masks, announcing the crawl through Oil City on February 17, 2026, with participating venues and event details.

So, What’s the Big Deal with Mardi Gras?

If you aren’t from New Orleans, you might just think it’s an excuse to wear plastic beads and eat cake. And, I mean, it is. But at its heart, Mardi Gras (or “Fat Tuesday”) is the ultimate “last hurrah.” It’s that one day where you’re supposed to live it up, eat the rich food, dance in the street, and be as loud and colorful as possible before the quiet of the spring season kicks in. Also, the season of Lent begins. Historically, Lent is a forty day period of fasting, reflection, and giving things up, so this is the last party for a while.

It’s all about the phrase Laissez les bons temps rouler which means let the good times roll. It’s a reminder to stop taking life so seriously for a night and just enjoy the people around you.

The Seneca Street Takeover

The fact that we’re doing a Mardi Gras Crawl right here in Oil City on Tuesday, February 17th is just perfect. We’ve got this epic lineup: Billy’s, Cork n Screw, Double Play, McNerney’s, and us at The Exchange. The goal? Hit every spot, grab a festive snack or a drink, and collect a different colored bead at every door. By the end of the night, the goal is to be draped in beads and high on good vibes.

We Don’t Do “Basic” Disguises

Klee and I were talking, and we realized: if we’re going to do a crawl, we can’t just show up in our everyday hoodies. We need to look the part.

So, on Wednesday, February 11th, we’re doing a Mardi Gras Mask Making night at the exchange. We’re skipping the cheap plastic stuff. We’re going to get into the feathers, the sequins, and the bold paints to help you make something that actually feels like a piece of art. We’ll have two craft cocktails ready for you, some good music playing, and we’re just going to hang out and create.

Mardi Gras mask-making party invitation featuring colorful masks, feathers, and beads. Event details include date, time, and location.

We want to see Seneca Street filled with custom masks and smiling faces. This town has so much soul, and we can’t wait to see it on full display.

Let’s make some memories and maybe a little bit of a mess.

Stay creative, Rafi & Klee

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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.

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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:

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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!

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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.”

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This Year Is Going To Be Insanely Awesome For Us

If 2025 was the year we hit the “slow-mo” button, 2026 is the year we accidentally sat on the “ludicrous speed” remote. We are back, we are ready, and we’ve added so many new things to the website and our calendar that my planner is currently a mess I can barely read.

There is a lot to cover, so grab a snack (and maybe a protective apron) because here is the breakdown of what’s happening in our world for 2026.

The “Social Butterfly” Tour: Markets & Shows

A couple stands behind a vendor booth at a craft fair, surrounded by colorful artwork and handcrafted jewelry. The booth features a display of paintings, photographs, and various jewelry items.

Klee and I love our studio time. It’s our sanctuary, our happy place, and frankly, the only place where it’s socially acceptable to have blue paint in my beard. But this year, we’re stepping out of the cave a little more!

  • The Curb Market: Starting in June, you can find us at the weekly Curb Market right here in Oil City. We’ll be there with art, smiles, and probably a very specific type of morning delirium that only exists at outdoor markets.
  • The Exchange Takeover: We are officially taking the reins on Art Night At The Exchange! We’ve had a total blast at every event there so far, so we decided to crank it up. Expect a fun Art Night every single month, plus… wait for it… a monthly open call art exhibition and reception. It’s going to be a revolving door of incredible local talent, and we can’t wait to see what the amazing artists in our area create.
  • Mural Fest? (Keep your fingers crossed!): We are currently in talks with Mainstreet and the Mural Board about bringing a brand-new event to town: Mural Fest. Imagine the town covered in fresh color and massive creativity. We are working hard to make this happen, so stay tuned for updates!
A group of people engaged in a painting class, with a male instructor assisting. Participants are holding their artworks featuring sunset scenes.

We’re Back on Your Screens (and in Your Ears!)

For those who have missed our faces (and our tangents), we have big news: We are officially back on YouTube! We’ve missed the camera, and we’ve missed you. We are jumping back in with both feet and relaunching our videos and the podcast. Whether you want to watch us navigate a disaster in the studio or listen to us talk shop about the creative life while you work on your own masterpieces, we’ll be there. Head over to the channel and make sure those notifications are on!

Community & Collaboration (The “Art Syndicate”?)

Speaking of talent, we’ve officially started a local art group called The Art Syndicate. It sounds very mysterious and “underground,” doesn’t it? In reality, it’s a gathering of creative minds joining forces to support one another, share resources, and make sure the local art scene stays weird and wonderful.

Three individuals smiling and holding drinks, standing in an art gallery with colorful paintings in the background.
An art teacher explains perspective drawing techniques on a chalkboard while students sit at desks, working on their assignments.

We’re also continuing our work at St. Stephen’s School. We absolutely love those kids! Their lack of “creative ego” and pure joy for making a mess is a constant reminder of why we started doing this in the first place. Teaching them isn’t just a job; it’s a bi-monthly recharge for our own creative batteries.

The Virtual World: Patreon & Beyond

For those of you who aren’t local to Oil City and have joined our online community don’t worry, we haven’t forgotten you! We are leaning into our Patreon more than ever this year.

A man with glasses and a bandana smiles while sitting next to a woman who is laughing, both engaged in a live podcast recording. The background includes wooden panels with string lights, and there are microphones and other podcasting equipment visible.
  • Weekly Hangouts: We’re doing weekly private livestreams and group meetings that range from deep-dive art talks to “what on earth are Rafi and Klee creating now?”
  • Virtual Art Show: This is the big one! We are organizing a virtual art show specifically for our Patreon collab challenges. This means we get to showcase incredible art from our community members all over the world. Global talent, zero travel lag.

The “Do Not Disturb” Sign

An artist stands in a colorful workshop with artwork on the walls, various supplies on shelves, and a bright blue door in the background.

Now, before you think we’ve become full-time event planners, let’s be clear: The Studio is Sacred. Klee and I have officially designated several “Don’t Bother Us” days throughout most of the week. These are the days we lock the doors, ignore the emails, and just create. It’s non-negotiable. Connecting with humans is great, but connecting a brush to a canvas or hammering on metal is what keeps us sane enough to do all the other stuff! Honestly, without it, we wouldn’t have anything to share.

Check Out the New Features!

We’ve been tinkering under the hood of the website to make it easier for you to find new pieces, sign up for events, and see what we’re up to. Head over to the homepage to see the shiny new updates and the latest gallery additions.

2026 is about balance: Creating in private, celebrating in public, and making sure art stays at the center of it all. We can’t wait to see you at the market, at an exhibition, at an art syndicate meeting, at The Exchange, or on the livestream!

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The Oil City Art Syndicate: Are You a NW PA Creative Looking for Your People?

Hey, you. Yeah, you! The one with paint under your fingernails, a half-finished manuscript on your laptop, or a melody stuck in your head that you just have to get out. You know that feeling, right? That little hum that says, “I’m a creative, I’m a little weird, and where are all the other weirdos?”

We are starting something in our region as a project we can eventually share with others who may want to do the same thing in their own region. That is the big vision. But before we can hand out the map, we have to build the territory. Right now, we are wrangling all the brilliant, wild, and slightly unhinged creative energy bubbling up in our local area to see what happens when we stop working in isolation.

Welcome, friends, to the official (but still a work in progress) launch of the Oil City Art Syndicate!

Three people smiling at an art gallery, holding drinks, with colorful abstract paintings in the background.

What Even Is This Thing?

Think of the Syndicate as our attempt to wrangle all the brilliant, wild, and creative energy bubbling up in our region. We’re talking artists, writers, musicians, performers, designers, crafters… if you make things, if you love things, or if you just want to see more creative things, you’re in.

Our Big, Hairy, Audacious Goal

For too long, it feels like we’ve all been operating in our own little creative silos. You know, drawing amazing things alone in your studio, writing heart-wrenching poetry to an audience of dust bunnies, or composing a symphony that only your dog truly appreciates.

That’s where the Syndicate comes in. We’re attempting to connect the creators in our region so we can work together and build something that didn’t exist yesterday. Think of this as a pilot program. We are starting this in our region as a project we can eventually share with others who might want to do the same thing in their own towns. We’re building the blueprint as we go. This is by artists and for artists.

Three individuals posing together in front of colorful artwork in an art gallery.

What Can You Expect?

Right now, we’re building the foundation brick by beautiful, slightly askew brick. Here’s what we’ve got brewing:

  1. The Monthly Dispatch (aka, This Newsletter!): Your personal creative intel brief. We’ll be sending out monthly emails packed with local opportunities, grants, calls for shows, and updates on Syndicate business.
  2. The Discord Den (aka, Our Digital Hangout Spot): This is our virtual studio and brainstorming room. It’s where you can connect with other local artists in real-time.
  3. The Monthly Muster (aka, Real-Life Human Contact!): Yes, actual in-person meetings! We’re organizing a recurring space where we can sit down and discuss collaborative exhibitions and local events. Details on the first meeting are coming soon.

If you’re reading this, and you are located within driving distance of Oil City PA check it out.

A group of four people posing together in an art gallery, smiling and standing in front of paintings. They are wearing casual clothing and appear to be enjoying the event.

Is This Going to Work?

Honestly? Who knows! This whole thing could grow into an unstoppable creative force, or it could crash and burn in a spectacular blaze of glory. But here’s the unshakeable truth: When creative people gather, magic happens. It just does. We’ve seen it, we’ve felt it, and we are absolutely certain that this journey will be a magical one.

Let’s stop creating in isolation. Let’s find our people. Let’s make some serious magic.

Stay Rogue,

Rafi & Klee Founders, Oil City Art Syndicate

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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!

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The “Art Isn’t Real” Tax Fiasco: A Love Letter to the PA Dept. of Revenue

I recently received a piece of mail that made me laugh, then get angry, then consider moving my entire studio to a different planet. It was a letter from Blick Art Materials informing me that the Pennsylvania Department of Revenue has decided that the production of artwork (you know, the thing we do with our lives) does not qualify as “exempt manufacturing” under some dusty statute called 72 P.S. 7201 (c).

UPDATE: WE WON! Read About It Here: https://rafiandklee.com/victory-for-the-artists-but-the-war-isnt-over/

Basically, some pencil-pusher in a cubicle somewhere has decided that when we take raw materials and transform them into something entirely new, we aren’t actually making anything. We’re apparently just… having an expensive hobby? This may have just happened to us, but at this point I’m assuming we are not the only ones dealing with this.

An artist working in a colorful studio filled with art supplies and tools.

How Does The Sales Tax Exemption Work (The Boring-but-Vital Part)

In case you’re unaware of how the grown-up business world is supposed to work: when you are a registered business that manufactures goods, you get a tax break. It’s called a Sales Tax Exemption.

Here’s the deal: If I buy a hunk of clay, paint, canvas, or a gallon of resin to make a sculpture that I then sell, I’m not supposed to pay sales tax on those materials. Why? Because the state gets its cut when the final customer buys the finished piece. If I pay tax on the materials, and the customer pays tax on the statue, the state is double-dipping.

To get this, you usually fill out a form (the REV-1220) and give it to your suppliers (like Blick). It’s a standard system designed to help small businesses actually, you know, stay in business.

An artist sitting at a cluttered studio workspace filled with art supplies, painted canvases, and boxes labeled 'BEADS' and other crafting materials.

Apparently, Art Supplies Are Not “Raw Material”

We’ve been in business for a while, and I’ve never run into this issue. According to Pennsylvania Department of Revenue, the state doesn’t think art is “manufacturing.” Apparently, they think we just wave a magic wand and the artwork appears. They don’t see the process of creation, or the physical labor of turning a blank canvas into a product. To them, we aren’t “producing goods.”

The core of the problem is that this statute is fundamentally outdated. The lingo used in the current law is written to benefit specific large-scale industries while leaving the door open for interpretations that exclude small businesses and independent makers.

This decision is, to use a technical term, dumb. It directly impacts how I order my materials and how much it costs to keep the lights on in my studio.

A woman stands in an art gallery, looking thoughtfully at the artwork displayed on the walls. She wears a red shirt and beige pants, with a backpack slung over her shoulder.

Standing Up to the Pencil-Pushers

I’m not taking this lying down. I am currently in the process of fighting this at the state level. As artists who run small businesses, we’re often treated like we’re playing pretend. We have to fight twice as hard just to get established systems to recognize our rights as legitimate businesses.

I’m now in communication with my local state representative to make them aware that the Department of Revenue is effectively penalizing the creative economy of Pennsylvania.

Here is my “Rogue Challenge” for you: Whether you use this tax exemption or not, this is about the principle. If the state decides our work isn’t “manufacturing,” they are deciding our work doesn’t have value.

  1. Check your orders. If you’re a registered business, see if you’re being charged tax on your raw supplies.
  2. Contact your State Rep. Seriously. Send a polite but firm email. Tell them that art is manufacturing, that we are businesses, and that this ruling is a blow to local makers.

We have a bit of a road ahead of us to get the “powers that be” to see us as the economic engine we actually are. Sometimes, the only way to get a seat at the table is to stand up and start making some noise.

Banner promoting a local project for artists in Northwest Pennsylvania, featuring playful graphics and the text "ARE YOU A NORTHWEST PA ARTIST? JOIN OUR NEW LOCAL PROJECT FOR ARTISTS IN OUR REGION."

If you live in PA, here is an example letter you can copy, paste and rewrite to suit you:

Subject: URGENT: PA Dept. of Revenue Ruling on Sales Tax Exemption for Artists (Statute 72 P.S. 7201 (c))

Dear Representative [Name],

I am writing to you as a constituent and a small business owner in our region to bring a concerning matter to your attention regarding a recent shift in the Pennsylvania Department of Revenue’s interpretation of tax law.

Recently, the Department has been contacting major art supply vendors (such as Blick Art Materials) to state that the production of artwork no longer qualifies as “exempt manufacturing” under Statute 72 P.S. 7201 (c).

The manufacturing exemption is a standard business practice designed to prevent “double-taxation” by allowing businesses to purchase raw materials—which are then transformed into a new, finished product—without paying sales tax at the point of purchase.

The core of the problem is that this statute is fundamentally outdated. The lingo used in the current law is written to benefit specific large-scale industries while leaving the door open for interpretations that exclude small businesses and independent makers. By ruling that artists are not “manufacturers,” the Department of Revenue is effectively:

  • Invalidating our status as legitimate businesses: It suggests that the physical transformation of raw materials into a finished good only “counts” if it happens in a traditional factory setting.
  • Creating a Double Standard: It allows large corporations to enjoy tax breaks on production while penalizing the small, local studios that make up the backbone of the creative economy in regions like ours in PA.
  • Increasing Overhead Costs: This interpretation forces double-taxation on our materials, making it even harder for local makers to remain competitive.

The process of creating a sculpture, a piece of jewelry, or a painting is a physical transformation of raw materials into a manufactured good. I ask for your support in advocating for a modernized interpretation of this statute—one that recognizes the reality of 21st-century small business and ensures that “manufacturing” isn’t a term reserved only for big industry.

We are taxpayers, business owners, and vital contributors to the economic and cultural vitality of this district. I look forward to hearing your thoughts on how we can resolve this issue.

Sincerely,

[Your Name] [Your Business Name] [Your Address] [Your Phone Number]