Confessions of an Artist: It’s Not All Paint and Zen Over Here

So you bought some art from us—or you’re thinking about it—and you’re wondering, What kind of magical, mysterious life must these creative souls lead? You probably imagine us floating around our studio in paint-splattered robes, sipping herbal tea while a string quartet plays softly in the background, right?

Wrong.

Let me give you a more accurate picture of life as an artist:
I’m wearing mismatched socks, my beard looks like it lost a fight with gravity, and there’s a very real chance I just stepped in paint that I thought had dried three hours ago.

Here’s what it actually looks like behind the scenes:

I talk to my art. Like… full-on conversations. If you walked into my studio at the wrong time, you’d hear me saying things like, “Okay, why are you being weird right now?” or “You better dry the way I asked you to.”

My studio is both a sanctuary and a war zone. There’s beauty and inspiration… right next to three coffee cups, a stack of half-used sketchbooks, and something I swear I meant to clean up last week.

Art doesn’t make itself. It takes hours of experimenting, failing, trying again, yelling at the canvas, getting a sudden stroke of genius at 2 a.m., and occasionally celebrating with spontaneous victory dancing that would scare off visitors.

But here’s the cool part:

Every piece I create has a little bit of that chaos baked into it. Every painting, sculpture, or design is a visual diary of what was happening in my world at the time. That green smear? That was the day I discovered I really like mixing that particular shade—right before spilling it down my shirt. That texture? The result of a glorious accident I now call “intentional.”

Art is how I process life.
It’s how I scream into the void.
It’s how I say thank you, WTF, and I love you—sometimes all at once.

And when you collect a piece of my art, you’re not just getting something to hang on your wall.
You’re getting a story.
A messy, beautiful, perfectly imperfect moment frozen in time.
You’re getting a piece of the weird little world I live in—a world where emotion becomes color, mistakes become magic, and creativity is the only rule.

Now let’s talk about Klee.

You may think that because she makes beautiful fine jewelry, she floats through the studio like a Hallmark card come to life. But let me assure you—Klee is also part of the chaos.

Hanging out in the studio with her means a soundtrack of hammering, the occasional “ok, F#%K!” when she drops a tiny gemstone, and singing loudly to whatever random music is playing—everything from vintage soul to hardcore rock. We listen to all of it. There are sawing noises, torches firing, and the occasional flurry of metal dust.

She talks to the jewelry too.
“Nope, you’re not sitting right.”
“Ohhh, you’re gonna be SO pretty.”

It’s a beautiful symphony of metal, flame, laughter, and the occasional muttered curse as we crawl on the floor looking for something that’s smaller than a breadcrumb but somehow costs as much as groceries for a week.

And that’s what makes her pieces magical—each one carries that same spark of intention, emotion, and ridiculousness that defines life in our studio.

Also… I just want to say thank you.

If you’re a collector, a supporter, a fellow art-lover who’s ever invested in what we do—whether you bought a piece, shared a post, or sent an encouraging word—you’re part of this story too.

You help make this messy, paint-covered, fire-and-hammer-fueled dream a reality.
You help keep the lights on (and the coffee stocked).
You give this wild creative life a purpose beyond the studio.

So, if you ever wondered what it’s like to be an artist—it’s this:
It’s unpredictable, hilarious, deeply personal, sometimes exhausting, occasionally ridiculous, and totally worth it.

And if you’re reading this while eyeing that piece you’ve been thinking about… just know, it probably has a story that includes at least one emotional breakthrough, one great song, and possibly a near-miss with a flying paintbrush or a flaming torch.

Thanks for being part of the magic.

—Rafi