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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]

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The Guide to Realizing You’re Already Perfect

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

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

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

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

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

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

Watch The Video We Made On This Subject

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Our Ritual for Not Imploding in January

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rafi

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Happy New Year, Amazing Humans!

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

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

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

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

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

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

That alone feels like a win.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With love,
Rafi & Klee

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

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Merry Christmas, You Beautiful Humans

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

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

I want to tell you a short story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lurve, Rafi and Klee

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