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”.
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.
Welcome to the “I wish I knew” club. Population: Every artist ever.
When we first pick up a microphone, torch, stylus, or a brush, we all have this vision of ourselves: sitting in a sun-drenched loft, effortlessly sweeping a charcoal stick across a canvas while wearing an oversized sweater that stays inexplicably clean.
The reality? You’re hunched over a desk like a gargoyle, your neck is making sounds like a gravel driveway, and you’ve just spent three hours drawing a single left hand that still looks like a bunch of overcooked sausages.
Since I can’t go back in time to save past us, here is the survival guide for every baby artist just starting their journey.
1. The “Ugly Phase” is Mandatory
Every piece of art goes through a middle stage where it looks like it was cursed by a swamp hag. In the beginning, we think this means we’re failing. It doesn’t. It’s just the awkward teenage years of your painting.
The Lesson: Just keep pushing until the swamp hag leaves.
2. Failure is a Myth (But Giving Up is a Nap)
Here is the big secret: There is no such thing as failure. There are only “learning sketches” and “incidents where the paint won.” The only way to actually fail is to stop entirely.
And even then? Giving up is usually just temporary. You might throw your sketchbook in a drawer and vow to become a goat farmer, but three weeks later, you’ll see a cool sunset or a well-drawn elbow, and bam you’re back at the desk. You can’t escape the “Art Itch.” It’s a lifelong condition. Accept the breaks, but know that creative inspiration always has your house keys.
3. You Will Become a Hand-Hiding Ninja
At some point, you will realize hands are the final boss of art. You will become an expert at drawing:
Characters with their hands in their pockets.
Characters standing behind large bushes.
Characters who mysteriously had their hands replaced by hooks.
The Pro Tip: Just bite the bullet and draw the hands. Draw them all the time. Trust me, you’ll get really good at it. Use your own hand as a reference. Yes, you will look weird taking 40 photos of your left hand in a “holding an energy ball” pose. Do it anyway. You’ll thank me later.
4. Reference is Not Cheating
There is this weird myth that “real” artists pull everything from their brains. Unless your brain is a high-definition 8K camera with 100% recall, use a reference. Using a photo of a toaster to draw a toaster isn’t cheating, it’s just making sure your toaster doesn’t look like a mailbox.
5. Your Workspace Needs Hazard Signs
You will eventually:
Dip your paintbrush into your coffee and drink it. Recently, a friend said it happened with their tea.
Wonder why your lower back feels like it’s on fire after being hunched over a painting all day.
Realize you have a streak of Cobalt Blue on your forehead that has been there since Tuesday.
Gas yourself with Flex Seal in an enclosed area until you lose your voice… oh, just me?
Just be careful. Yes, you cam probably withstand a lot when you are younger, but form better habits now, so you don’t regret it later. And, Buy a better chair. Your spine will thank you in ten years.
6. The Most Important Rule: Comparison is a Liar
You’re going to scroll through social media and see a 14-year-old who paints like Rembrandt. Your heart will sink. Stop that. That person’s Chapter 20 has nothing to do with your Chapter 1. The only person you need to be better than is the version of you that didn’t draw anything yesterday.
These are the six I’m sharing today, but there are many, many more. Have an awesome and creatively beautiful year!
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?”
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
I wanted to share a little warning with all of you today. A friendly, heartfelt, “learn from my mistakes” kind of post.
Or, more accurately…
A don’t be dumb like me post.
A couple of days ago, Klee and I were deep in the mad holiday rush. Orders were flying out the door, the studio looked like a creative tornado had touched down, and we were prepping for our last winter show, the Holiday Makers Market at Clifford’s.
The show itself? Amazing. The community showed up, we got to hang out with incredible local artists, and it reminded us (again) why we love doing what we do.
The problem happened before the show.
The day before, while juggling a million things, my brain did that thing it does sometimes. You know the thing. I’m fully focused on one task, and then suddenly my brain goes:
“HEY. YOU SHOULD FIX THAT RANDOM THING RIGHT NOW.”
This time, it was a crack in our studio utility sink.
Perfect timing, right?
So naturally, instead of saying “maybe after the holidays” or “this can wait,” I decided this would be a great thing to squeeze into an already packed schedule.
Brilliant.
I caulked the cracks in the sink and then thought, “You know what would really seal this up? Flex Seal.” I had a spray can left from when I worked on our gutters. Easy. Quick. Done in five minutes.
Except… not really.
It’s winter. The studio has limited ventilation this time of year. And even though I own masks and wear them regularly when I spray paint…
I decided (in the heat of the moment) that I didn’t need one.
“It’ll be quick,” I said to myself. “It’s fine,” I said to myself. “Future Rafi can deal with it,” I implied.
So I sprayed the sink.
Then another layer.
Then another.
Then… I emptied the entire can.
If you’ve ever sprayed something inside a basin, you already know where this is going. That spray doesn’t politely stay where you put it. It bounces. It comes back out. And it hits you directly in the face.
Since I wasn’t wearing a mask, I basically inhaled those vapors like they were fresh mountain air.
Then (because apparently I hadn’t learned anything yet) I just went on with my day.
That night and into the next day, my lungs were not happy. I was coughing up stuff, felt that deep chest irritation, and realized something was very wrong.
At the show, I couldn’t stay the whole time. I had to step out and go home a few times just to breathe and recover a bit. Klee just looked at me with a serious look and said, I’m worried about you. Never do that again. I nodded.
That evening, I did some steaming, focused on clearing my breathing, and thankfully things improved.
This morning, I woke up feeling better overall… but with absolutely no voice.
None. Gone. Vanished.
Which brings me to the point of this whole post.
The PSA Part
Do not be dumb like me.
Seriously.
Here’s why this was a bad idea (in case my missing voice wasn’t convincing enough):
Cold weather + poor ventilation = bad combo
Spray sealants are not harmless
If you’re spraying inside a confined space, it will come back at you
“It’ll be quick” is a lie your brain tells you
Masks exist for a reason
Rushing + repairs = mistakes
What You Should Always Have on Hand
A proper mask or respirator for fumes
Ventilation (fans, open windows when possible)
Gloves and basic safety gear
The ability to say “this can wait”
So there it is. My public service announcement for the day.
For anyone wondering, I’m feeling much better. Other than not being able to speak, I actually feel pretty good. Lungs are calming down, breathing is easier, and lesson very much learned.
If this post saves even one of you from doing something similar while rushing around your studio, garage, or workspace…
Then at least my poor decision wasn’t completely wasted.
This morning as I was spraying sealant on the studio sink (in an enclosed area with no ventilation so this message might be weird) I was thinking about something. I thought about the beautiful, ridiculous roller coaster that is being an artist. We have a pop up tomorrow at Clifford’s in Oil City and I find myself rushing around at the last minute trying to get everything ready for it. People often imagine that the life of a creative human is a serene, mystical experience filled with gentle inspiration, endless cups of perfectly brewed coffee, and large sunlit studios where inspiration strikes at the perfect moment.
Yeah… no.
Being an artist is one of the most amazing experiences you can have as a human, and one of the most terrifying things you can sign up for. It’s like having a dragon for a pet. It sounds awesome. It’s magical, powerful, life-changing, and occasionally it wants to set your hair on fire or eat your friends.
Let me explain.
You Get to Create Worlds… Which Is Amazing.
You Also Have No Map… Which Is Terrifying.
Every time you sit down to create, you are literally pulling something out of thin air. That’s incredible. You get to build something that never existed before you walked into the room. Everything you do as an artist is uniquely yours. But, there’s no roadmap for creating something new, including an art career. Every attempt to succeed, every blank canvas, lump of clay, sheet of paper, or hunk of metal has the audacity to look you dead in the eye and say,
“So… you got a plan? Yeah right.”
And then the internal panic kicks in. That’s usually when many people quit. We talk ourselves out of that project or idea. This is where persistence comes in. Not only persistence, but the willingness to being unreasonably optimistic about what things will look like in the future. Every day, as an artist, I have to convince myself to put one foot in front of the other and keep going.
You Chase Passion… Which Is Amazing.
You Also Chase It Off a Cliff Sometimes… Which Is Terrifying.
Art comes from the heart. You follow gut feelings, wild ideas, and emotional lightning bolts. This is the stuff that makes life feel alive. But then there are days when your passion and optimism abandons you. You think, “I didn’t sign up for this chaos”. And you’re left standing in the studio thinking:
“Cool, so now what? Should I quit? Should I paint a potato? Should I take a nap? Should I panic? All of the above?”
Yet if you persist, your passion and optimism will always return… eventually. You’ll think, “Hey, I’ve got an idea…” and suddenly you’re back in the game.
You’re Vulnerable… Which Is Amazing.
You’re Also Too Vulnerable… Which Is Terrifying.
Every time you put yourself out there, every piece of art you make is basically you stripping off your armor. You pour your thoughts, emotions, stories, and weird little quirks into everything you do. People don’t realize that when they look at your art, they’re basically looking at your guts in an artform.
This is why showing your work feels like saying, “Here is my soul, hope you like it, no pressure.”
But that vulnerability is also what connects you to other humans. It’s what makes someone walk up to your art, pause, breathe, and whisper, “That’s exactly how I feel.”
That moment? Worth every ounce of terror.
Creative Freedom… Which Is Amazing.
Financial Uncertainty… Which Is Terrifying.
Ah yes, the glamorous life of a professional artist. You get freedom, adventure, new ideas, and the ability to build your entire life from scratch. And also anxiety. Lots of anxiety. A healthy sprinkling of “Will this sell?” A dash of “Do I need to become a barista?” (By the way, there is nothing wrong with that.) And a generous scoop of “Why does everything cost so much? Who decided this?”
But the truth is, the freedom you get as an artist is priceless. Yes, you are in uncharted waters and every learning curve feels like a disaster, but being an artist is all about being comfortable in the discomfort. It’s not for everyone (although it could be). The willingness to pick yourself up and keep moving forward through uncertainty is a superpower we develop the longer we do this. It’s not easy, but it is life changing. It’s terrifying, yes, but unbelievably empowering.
Growth Is Amazing… But Growth Is Also Terrifying.
As an artist, you are always growing, evolving, pushing boundaries, and stepping outside comfort zones. That’s what makes the journey rich. But stepping outside comfort zones is basically code for, “I’m going to scare myself a little today.”
Every new project asks you to be braver than yesterday. Every big idea asks you to trust yourself more than feels reasonable. And every new creation or outreach teaches you something, usually the hard way because artists are stubborn creatures.
But oh, the feeling when it all comes together eventually. When you have a successful showing. When someone connects with your art. When the piece is finished. When your heart feels full. When you can step back and say, “I did that. Me. My hands. My chaos. My creativity.”
That’s the moment that makes every fear worth facing.
So Why Do We Do It?
Because art is the place where the terrifying becomes transformative. Because we get to take all our messy human feelings and turn them into something beautiful, weird, powerful, joyful, emotional, colorful, meaningful. Because we get to connect with people in ways words alone can’t touch. Because creating is freedom, and true freedom (even with its fear) is one of the most exhilarating experiences we get in this life.
Being an artist is wild. It’s unpredictable. It’s emotional. It’s overwhelming. It’s magical. It’s terrifying. It’s amazing.
Every December, like clockwork, our home transforms from a peaceful, cozy sanctuary into… well… whatever happens when an art studio explodes into the rest of the house.
This year is no exception.
In fact, I walked through the house this morning and realized that every single room (including spaces that should, by all logic, be art-free) now contains at least three paintings and a stack of Artist Enhanced Prints threatening to avalanche at any moment. Even the rugs have joined the chaos, rolled up like they’re plotting an escape.
Klee and I keep saying, “This is normal, right? Other people’s homes look like this before the holidays… right?” Absolutely not. But here we are anyway, knee-deep in canvases, surrounded by stacks of art, packaging materials, jewelry trays, tiny easels, tape guns, and a work table that looks like a rainbow threw up all over it.
And honestly? We wouldn’t have it any other way.
The living room couches are buried under framed originals, minis, prints, and a smiley pillow who has emotionally checked out.
The dining table is currently functioning as the Shipping Command Center. The studio looks like an Art Fairy sneezed paint supplies all over it. The floor is a path of flattened boxes, packaging, and whatever project we promised we wouldn’t start until January. Our desks are a pile of lists, notes, scribbles, and cups of cold tea and coffee.
Every corner whispers, “You’re not behind, you’re just… seasonally overwhelmed.”
And honestly? That feels accurate.
Because this week is our holiday marathon, the big creative hurrah, the final sprint to wrap up the year with art, music, chaos, laughter, and community.
And the schedule is a wild one.
This Week’s Holiday Madness
December 5th at 5pm EST Virtual Holiday Open Studio (live stream). Grab your cocoa, throw on your cozy socks, and come hang out with us from your couch. We’ll be sharing art, jewelry, music, stories, and we’re doing a giveaway. Watch here: https://www.youtube.com/live/iEPTFHSQB3M
December 6th, 12pm–4pm Opening Reception at The Manos Gallery for Whispers of the Artful Traveler. Come see the work in person, chat, wander, soak in creativity, and explore what inspires artists on their journey. 200 Freeport Rd, New Kensington, PA 15068
Us Hanging Out At The Manos Gallery
December 13th, 10am–4pm Holiday Makers Market Pop-Up at Clifford’s in Oil City. Come say hi, sip something tasty, shop for gifts, and enjoy the creative magic.
And somewhere between all this, we’re teaching on Monday… and possibly holding an event at The Exchange on Wednesday. Because why not. It’s December. Chaos is the brand.
Here’s the thing that keeps hitting me as we run around trying not to drown in bubble wrap:
Last year, we didn’t get to do any of this.
Klee was sick. We had to cancel everything. The house stayed calm only because we never got the chance to do what we love.
This year, yeah, it’s chaos. Yeah, we’re exhausted. Yeah, the living room looks like an art-themed yard sale hosted by a hair band.
But we’re here. Klee is feeling better. We’re working together, side by side at our computers, in the studio, juggling listings, prepping tables, counting art, double-checking calendars, and laughing every time we remember I said “Easter Standard Time” in the video I posted on social media today.
We get to do this. And that means everything.
People see the events, the live streams, the gallery receptions, and the pop-ups, but what they don’t see is:
Drying racks covered in fresh varnish. Paintings stacked in every room like Tetris on expert mode. Us trying to remember which bin the display stands went into. Me losing the packing tape every 30 seconds. Klee keeping the entire ship from sinking with spreadsheets and organization magic. Calendars everywhere. So many calendars. Three trips to Aldi for bags and snacks. The “one more thing” that magically becomes twenty more things.
It’s messy. It’s intense. It’s overwhelming. It’s also inspiring, hilarious, and deeply meaningful.
This is the backstage reality of being full-time creators. It’s not tidy. It’s not glamorous. But it’s alive.
To us, this is what the final chapter of the year looks like.
It’s hope. It’s gratitude. It’s celebration. It’s the beautiful mess of doing what we love.
And after last year, we’re embracing every chaotic second of it.
So come join us for the final hurrah of 2025, online or in person. We love having you along for this wild, creative ride.
Here’s to art exploding everywhere. Here’s to healing. Here’s to community. Here’s to ending the year full of color.
Artist Sunday in Oil City is basically the Super Bowl of local creativity minus the football, plus with more artsy, handmade things, and zero risk of being hit in the face with a cheese covered nacho. It is the cozy finale of the Thanksgiving weekend trifecta, and this year Oil City is showing up big.
The whole town turns into a walkable, art filled extravaganza with musicians, makers, demonstrations, book signings, ornament painting wizards, alpaca fiber geniuses, and of course your favorite rogue creative humans. That is us.
If you are wondering “Hey Rafi, where do I find you and Klee?” then keep reading, because we have the scoop.
Where You Can Find Us. Clifford’s Carpets (Southside)
Location 10 at 19 E 1st Street
This place transforms into one of the quirkiest, most unexpectedly perfect spots for artists to set up. We will be there with original art, jewelry, books, sculptures, prints, maybe a few wildcards, and generally being our usual creative, sleep deprived but happy selves.
And we remembered the calendars this time. Ok… technically we forgot to bring them on Saturday, but they are absolutely coming with us because I put a note on my phone, a note on my sketchbook, and a note taped to my face.
If you want to say hi, chat art, or watch me try not to spill coffee on anything, come hang out at location 10.
What’s Happening Around Town. Northside!
Just hop across the Veterans Memorial Bridge and you will find a whole cluster of creative action.
National Transit Building
Handmade instruments, woodworking, encaustic painting, illustration, demos, textile art, book illustrations, wax melts, stickers, ceramics. It is basically an indoor labyrinth of artists and creative chaos. You can also catch live medieval instruments and a Q and A with Daniel Yost and Pedro Sperb from 11 to 4.
Transit Arts Gallery and Gifts
Local and regional artists in all mediums. Think of it as a mini art marketplace with big gallery energy.
Woods and River Coffee (Northside)
Watercolor and mixed media paintings plus warm caffeinated beverages to keep your art hopping energy levels high.
The Exchange
Mixed media, collages, ornaments, stickers, digital work, and probably the best spot to people watch creative humans in the wild.
Downs Building
Edinboro art students, prints, potions, handcrafted goods, natural body care, oddities. A whole vibe.
Dlonak Barber Shop
Illustration plus vintage garage character.
Wye Bridge Hobbies
Crafty creations, shirts, tumblers, and children’s books.
Southside! This is where we will be hanging!
If you wander the Southside loop, you will encounter:
Woods and River Coffee (Southside)
More art plus the eternal promise of caffeine.
Core Goods
Ceramics, digital art, pins, stickers, jewelry, open mic readings, and handmade goods. A whole creative ecosystem.
Clifford’s Carpets
Home of Rafi and Klee for the day, plus other AMAZING creatives!
William’s Travel
Stained glass jewelry and unique finds.
Why Artist Sunday Matters
Artist Sunday is like a giant creative thank you note from the town. It celebrates the makers, musicians, dreamers, creators, and wonderfully weird humans who choose to spend their lives making things that add beauty to the world.
It is also a chance for you to:
Meet artists face to face
Support handmade work
Discover something you didn’t know you needed
Join in the community vibe
Wander around a walkable art map like you are on a side quest
And honestly, it is just a great way to spend a Sunday full of color, creativity, and connection.
Come Find Us
We will be at Clifford’s Carpets, location 10, from 11 AM to 4 PM with art, jewelry, books, calendars, and our usual creative chaos. If you are in the area, stop by, say hi, and hang out with us. We love seeing familiar faces, meeting new creative humans, and being part of the buzzing, artsy energy of this awesome town.
Same bat place, same bat channel. See you on Artist Sunday.
Small Business Saturday started exactly the way all heroic adventures begin. With an alarm going off at 6:30 am.
Now, in theory, I set the alarm the night before. In practice, the noise that came out of my phone at 6:30 caused me to wonder why the heck would someone ever set an alarm that early. Klee and I sat up, bleary-eyed, attempting to understand the meaning of life, the universe, and why our bodies felt like we had been training for a marathon in our sleep.
This was our test set up at home. It had been a while since we’ve done a pop-up and wanted to see if we still had the chops to pull it off.
Step one: coffee and tea. Because without caffeine, we would still be face-down on the floor wondering what day it is.
Once the magic bean potion kicked in, it was time for that classic pop-up scramble… grabbing all the last minute stuff we definitely didn’t forget about (but obviously forgot about). You know, the essentials:
Price tags
Tape
Zip ties
More zip ties
Even more zip ties Because you just never know when you’re going to need to fasten something to something in a way that makes no sense but absolutely works.
Then came the loading of the car: art, jewelry, displays, our traveling walls, and enough supplies to impress NASA. Klee stayed home for a bit to take care of a few things while I drove the first load over to Clifford’s.
Anna, the owner of Clifford’s, is a legend. She had everything prepped, spots ready, energy high, and made the whole setup process actually feel doable at a time when no one should have to speak to another human without a second cup of coffee.
I unloaded, started building my walls (a workout that should absolutely count as CrossFit), and got our table started. Now, this is the part of being an artist most people never see… the lifting, hauling, balancing, troubleshooting, and trying not to stab yourself with a rogue hook. It’s a whole adventure. But if you don’t have fun with this part, you will quickly lose your mind, so I choose fun… mostly.
Once I grabbed Klee, we tag-teamed the finishing touches. Transforming a blank space into a mini art world is honestly one of my favorite things. It’s like a creative puzzle, except all the pieces are shaped weird and occasionally sharp. Then I noticed something.
I forgot the calendars. I only have 10 left… and I left them at home (face palm). Yep. The calendars I literally made a whole collection for… sitting at home. And while we’re at it, a bunch of tags for the art didn’t make it into the bags either.
Classic show day energy.
But that’s show life. Something always gets left behind, misplaced, or mysteriously disappears into the void. The trick is to roll with it, and luckily, Sunday is round two, which means I get redemption. And calendars.
And then… the show began.
So. Many. Incredible. Artists. Seriously, the level of talent in that room was ridiculous in the best way possible.
Our awesome creative friends were set up right across from us!
People started trickling in, and every single person was amazing. Great conversations, great energy, great support. We met so many awesome humans who connected with the work, shared their stories, laughed with us, and took home art and jewelry that now gets to go and live its best life.
There’s something magical about watching your creations leave with someone who truly loves them. It’s one of those moments where you’re reminded why you do this whole wild artist-life thing in the first place.
By the end of the day, we were tired, happy, and full of gratitude for every person who came out, every artist who showed up with their heart and creativity, and everyone who supported this fun little pop-up that became a whole community moment.
I totally forgot to take pictures while the event was happening because it got so busy, but here is an awkward picture of Klee caught mid sentence to give you an idea of how awesome this event was.
And guess what? We’re doing it all again tomorrow for Artist Sunday!
Yup. Same bat place, same bat channel.
If you’re in the area, come out and say HI!
Artist Sunday Pop-Up at Clifford’s
November 30, 2025 11:00 AM – 4:00 PM Clifford’s, 19 E 1st St, Oil City, PA 16301
Shop art, jewelry, and gifts, sip something tasty, and hang out with your favorite creative humans.
We’ll be there. Walls rebuilt. Coffee consumed. Zip ties ready.
Upcoming Public & Virtual Events:
Bottle Lanterns Create & Sip Party With Rafi And Klee June 17, 2026 at 6:00 pm – 8:00 pm
Go To Events Page To Find Out More.
Opening Reception: Imagination July 1, 2026 at 6:00 pm – 8:00 pm
Go To Events Page To Find Out More.
Palette Knife Create & Sip Party With Rafi And Klee August 19, 2026 at 6:00 pm – 8:00 pm
Go To Events Page To Find Out More.
Opening Reception: Neon Nostalgia September 2, 2026 at 6:00 pm – 8:00 pm
Go To Events Page To Find Out More.
