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Put Together a Solo Art Show Without Losing Your Mind

So, you’re planning a solo art show. First of all—hell yeah! This is a huge milestone. It means you’re ready to put yourself and your art out there in a big way. But let’s be honest—this can be equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

Maybe you’re thinking: I have no idea what I’m doing! What if no one shows up? What if it’s a disaster? What if I trip over my own feet in front of everyone and become a viral internet meme?

Breathe, my creative human. I’ve done this, I survived, and I’m here to help you do the same. So let’s break it down—step by step—so you can put together a badass solo show without losing your mind.

Step 1: Find a Venue (Even If a Gallery Won’t Give You the Time of Day)

If you’re already working with a gallery, great. But if you’re not, don’t sit around waiting for someone to discover you like a Hollywood movie. You don’t need gallery representation to have a killer solo show.

Try This Instead: The Pop-Up Art Show Move

Find an empty storefront in a busy area and contact the owner. Many landlords would rather have something happening in their space instead of it sitting there collecting dust. Offer to rent it for a few days, clean it up, and make it look nice. Sometimes you can even get it for free just by promising to leave it better than you found it.

The key is thinking outside the box—coffee shops, breweries, coworking spaces, even an industrial warehouse could work. You’re not just putting on a show—you’re creating an experience.

Step 2: Curate Like a Boss

Now that you have a space, you need to fill it with work that makes people stop, stare, and say, Whoa.

What You Need:

  • Enough Art to Fill the Space – Aim for at least 20-40 pieces that fit a theme.
  • A Killer Name for Your Exhibition – Something catchy, intriguing, and meaningful.
  • A Showstopper Piece – One or two jaw-dropping, mind-blowing works that people can’t stop talking about. Bonus points if it’s interactive.
  • A Cohesive Experience – Make sure everything in your show feels intentional. You don’t want a beautiful, moody series about introspection next to a random painting of a cat wearing sunglasses. (Unless that’s the theme—then by all means, go for it.)

Step 3: Design the Space Like You’re Crafting a Story

People aren’t just coming to look at your art. They’re coming to experience it. The layout of your show should guide them on a journey—like a visual mixtape that hits all the right emotional beats.

Pro Tips:

  • Map It Out – Take measurements. Sketch a floor plan. (Yes, actual planning—it’s worth it.)
  • Create a Flow – Think about what people see first when they walk in. Where do their eyes go? Where do their feet go? Lead them like a mastermind.
  • Use Corners for Drama – Make people turn a corner and get hit with a moment that stops them in their tracks.
  • Avoid Bottlenecks – If you have a bar or snack area, make sure it’s not blocking traffic. People shouldn’t have to play an awkward game of Twister just to get a drink.

Step 4: Set the Mood (Because Art Is More Than Just What’s on the Wall)

An art show is a full-body experience. The art is the main event, but the atmosphere? That’s what makes it unforgettable.

  • Lighting Matters – Spotlights for hero pieces, ambient lighting for mood. Think about how light affects color and texture.
  • Music Sets the Vibe – Don’t just put on a random playlist—choose something that enhances the art. And no, elevator jazz is not the default.
  • Food & Drinks Are Your Secret Weapon – People love free snacks. Even something simple—wine, cheese, crackers—keeps people happy and lingering longer.
  • Make It an Experience – Could you add something interactive? A live painting demo? A guest book where people leave thoughts and doodles? A surprise performance? Anything that makes your show stand out from the usual “art-on-walls” setup.

Step 5: Get People to Show Up (Because an Empty Show Is Just You, Sitting in a Room, Staring at the Wall)

You’ve got the art. You’ve got the space. Now you need people.

Start Promoting Two Months in Advance:

  • Social Media Slow Burn – Don’t just blast “COME TO MY SHOW” 50 times. Instead, tease the process—show your studio, works-in-progress, close-up details, behind-the-scenes struggles. Get people invested before you hit them with the invite.
  • Flyers & Posters Still Work – Drop them at local coffee shops, bookstores, community centers, anywhere cool people hang out.
  • Press Releases = Free Publicity – Send a short, punchy press release to local newspapers, blogs, radio stations. Many will cover local events for free—but only if they know about it.
  • Event Listings Are Your Friend – Most cities have free event calendars online. Use them.
  • The One-Week Hype Bomb – In the final week, go all in with reminders, countdowns, last-minute teasers. The goal? Create excitement and urgency.

Step 6: The Show Itself (AKA: Don’t Panic and Just Enjoy It)

  • Don’t Stress About Sales – People hate being pressured. Just enjoy the night. If someone loves your work, they’ll ask. And if they don’t buy now, they might later—especially if the experience sticks with them.
  • Be Present, Not Salesy – Instead of pushing for a sale, share stories about your work. People connect with why you made something, not just what it is.
  • Thank People for Coming – Even if they don’t buy anything. Even if they just wandered in off the street for free wine. Gratitude goes a long way.
  • Have a Way for People to Stay Connected – A sign-up sheet, a QR code to your website, business cards—something so they can follow your work after the show.

Final Thoughts: Make It Fun, Make It Memorable, and Just Go for It

Look, I get it—putting on a solo show is scary. But it’s also one of the most rewarding things you can do as an artist. You’re creating an experience, sharing your work, and showing the world that you’re serious about this art thing.

So plan it well, make it an event people talk about, and most importantly—have fun with it.

Now go forth and make some art magic happen.

Have a solo show coming up? Tell me about it in the comments.

Watch The Video I created About Having A Solo Art SHow:

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The Artist’s Eternal Battle Against “Helpful” Advice

There’s a universal truth about being an artist: at some point, you will find yourself sitting across from a random business “expert” who has absolutely no idea what to do with you.

This isn’t to say business programs are all bad—some programs out there are fantastic for small creative businesses. But every now and then, the system spits out someone whose entire entrepreneurial philosophy is deeply allergic to creativity.

Take, for instance, my brilliant artist friends—creative powerhouses who could probably design an entire alternate universe if left alone in a room with enough coffee and a glue gun. They dabble in a variety of art—puppet-building, drawing, painting, animation, candle-making, writing, and photography. Storytelling is at the heart of everything they do, whether through short stories, photographs, puppetry, or a collection of unique candle scents. Their mission is simple: create something fun and unique to share with the world while embracing a life of adventure, travel, and boundless creativity.

Early in my career, I was told I was wasting my time and needed to get a real job.

They recently got into a really good business program that would give them access to a business coach, which sounds great in theory. A chance to learn, expand, and take their art to the next level. Except… the coach was the human embodiment of a beige PowerPoint presentation on “synergy.”

My friends, fueled by artistic chaos and brilliance, met with this coach, eager to share their vision. The response?

“Puppets are dead.”

I repeat: puppets. are. dead.

Now, I don’t know about you, but last time I checked, puppets were very much alive, thriving, and probably plotting world domination (because have you met puppeteers? They have plans). The coach then proceeded to tell them that pretty much, everything they were doing was wrong—not “needing refinement,” not “requiring a strategic tweak,” just wrong.

Puppets are not dead.

I’m sure he didn’t mean to sound like a robot programmed to discourage anyone who doesn’t sell widgets at Walmart, but let’s be real—this is a tale as old as time.

Artists and the Box That Does Not Fit

The biggest battle for artists isn’t making art. It’s dealing with people who just don’t get it. Many people love art and artists. But some have no idea what actual art is. Those people like art only in safe, pre-approved formats:

  • Big blockbuster movies? Love it.
  • Art prints at Target? Aesthetic!
  • Pre-made sculptures made out of recycled toaster parts with an interactive light show? What is this sorcery?

Too many business “experts” view creative careers through the lens of traditional marketing strategies. They want to fit us into their pre-cut, shrink-wrapped boxes, and if we don’t fit? Well, obviously, it’s because we’re wrong.

It’s frustrating, it’s exhausting, and it’s deeply stupid. Because here’s the thing:

  • Art is not meant to fit in a box.
  • Art is not safe.
  • Art is the wild, untamed, chaotic force that dares to bring something new into the world.

That’s why artists struggle when they encounter people who insist on the “proven” way of doing things. Those “proven” methods only work for things that already exist. But we’re here to create what doesn’t exist yet.

If we followed the “rules,” we wouldn’t have surrealism, street art, or the entire concept of animation (which, fun fact, was also declared “a waste of time” once).

Persistence is the only thing that shuts people up.

The Real Problem: Judgment Disguised as Advice

Let’s be honest, the hardest part of being an artist isn’t the work—it’s the constant judgment. It’s the well-meaning “concern” from people who act like we’re throwing our lives away because we don’t have a LinkedIn profile filled with business achievements.

It’s the casual dismissals. The naysaying. The patronizing conversations where someone talks to you as if you’re a wayward toddler instead of a highly skilled creative professional.

And I get it. It stings. It’s frustrating. It makes you want to throw a puppet at someone’s head just to prove that, no, they are not dead.

But I want you to remember something very important: their opinions do not define your potential.

At the end of the day, no one has walked in your shoes. No one knows what you are capable of. No one can tell you what’s possible unless you let them.

If they don’t get it? That’s their loss. There are plenty of people who will.

Artists are the kinds of people who figure their own way of doing things.

Some Advice for When the World Doesn’t Get You

  1. Trust Your Vision – If your ideas excite you, they are worth pursuing. The greatest creative breakthroughs have always started as something that others dismissed as too weird, too different, or too impractical. Keep going.
  2. Consider the Source – If someone gives you advice, ask yourself: does this person have experience in what I do? Do they understand the creative world? If not, take their words with a grain of salt. Some people give advice because they want to help. Others do it because they can’t handle anything outside of their own limited perspective.
  3. Remember, Everything New is “Impossible” at First – The lightbulb was ridiculous before it worked. The internet was a joke before it changed the world. Animation was “silly” before it became a multi-billion dollar industry. Every great idea looks strange to the people who can’t see beyond what already exists.
  4. Surround Yourself with People Who Get It – There will always be voices telling you to stop, to do something safer, to follow the well-worn path. The key is to tune them out and listen instead to the people who understand your vision—the ones who push you forward instead of holding you back.
  5. Let Rejection Be Your Fuel – If someone tells you it can’t be done, take that as a personal challenge. The best revenge against doubters is to succeed in a way they never saw coming.
  6. Create Anyway – At the end of the day, art is about making something because it needs to exist. Whether the world is ready for it or not, whether the business experts approve or not, whether it fits in their box or not—create anyway. Because what you make might be the very thing that changes everything.

So go forth and keep making things that don’t fit in a box. The world needs you, even if some people are too narrow-minded to see it.

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Why Keep Going As An Artist

I had someone reach out recently and tell me they were thinking about quitting their art because it felt too hard. That kind of message always hits me right in the gut. The last thing the world needs right now is one less creative force of nature. If you’re feeling the weight of it all, remember this: the world is already tough enough—your art is the spark that makes it brighter, more human, more alive. Don’t let the struggle dim that spark. Keep going. The world needs what only you can create.

Let’s face it—being an artist is not for the faint of heart. While others might spend their days carefully avoiding rejection and criticism, we dive in headfirst, like daredevils without a parachute. Why? Because creating art isn’t just something we do—it’s who we are. It’s how we breathe, dream, and exist. And with that level of vulnerability comes a unique kind of chaos that only creative humans can understand.

Your Art, Served with a Side of Judgment

Every painting, song, sculpture, or doodle you share feels like offering a piece of your soul to the world on a platter. And sometimes the world responds with applause. Other times? A big ol’ “Meh.” It stings, but you learn to roll with it because creating isn’t about universal approval—it’s about expression. Still, it’s hard not to take it personally when someone shrugs at the thing you stayed up until 3 a.m. pouring your heart into. Rejection? Yeah, we eat that for breakfast.

The Art of Financial Juggling

Then there’s the financial tightrope walk. Let’s not sugarcoat it—money is a touchy subject in the art world. One month, you might sell a piece for enough to pay your rent and indulge in celebratory tacos. The next month, you’re scavenging for loose change and wondering if ramen noodles are still 25 cents a pack (spoiler: they’re not).

But here’s the crazy, magical thing: in these moments, you learn to create your own sense of security. You realize that your resourcefulness is a superpower. Yes, it’s terrifying to live in a world where nothing feels guaranteed, but it’s also empowering. You’re not waiting for a paycheck from someone else; you’re building a life on your own terms. And there’s a rebellious kind of pride in that.

The “Real Job” Conundrum

Ah, society. Let’s talk about the charming way it loves to belittle creativity. “Oh, you’re an artist? That’s nice, but what’s your real job?” If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that, I’d be lounging in a hammock on my private island right now.

Why is it so hard for people to see the value in what we do? Maybe it’s because art doesn’t always come with a dollar sign attached. Maybe it’s because the world’s definition of success is built around 9-to-5 jobs, retirement plans, and measurable productivity. But guess what? The world needs art. It needs beauty, inspiration, and the courage to dream bigger. And that’s what we bring to the table—no corporate ladder required.

Why We Keep Going

So, why do we do it? Why do we keep creating in a world that’s sometimes indifferent, often dismissive, and occasionally brutal? Because we have to. Because art is our way of processing life, connecting with others, and leaving a mark on the world.

It’s not easy, but it’s worth it. Every “Meh,” every financial freakout, and every “real job” comment just adds fuel to the fire. We create because it’s who we are, and that’s something no amount of criticism, ramen dinners, or societal doubt can take away.

So here’s to us—the brave, slightly insane souls who dare to make art in a world that doesn’t always understand it. Keep going, keep creating, and remember: your work matters, even on the days when it feels like no one is watching.

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Life, Love, and the Beauty of Shared Madness

When Klee and I met in 2009, there was a spark—a universe-altering moment that, if you blinked, you might have missed. Except we didn’t miss it. We jumped in headfirst, feet never touching the ground. Within weeks, we were on the road, leaving behind everything we knew for a life we couldn’t quite define but felt in our bones. People called it crazy. Honestly, they weren’t wrong, but it was the best kind of crazy—the kind that makes life worth living.

This week, while Klee healed and started getting her energy back, I dug through some old files and stumbled across pictures of us in our Florida studio. The photographer (Kristian Breeze) asked us to “just be ourselves,” and these snapshots are proof we took that direction seriously. It’s just us—playful, weird, and totally in love with life and each other. We had already been together eight years when those photos were taken. Eight years of creating, dreaming, failing spectacularly, dusting ourselves off, and trying again.

Looking at those photos reminded me how extraordinary this journey has been. Neither of us knew what would happen when we packed up that truck all those years ago. We only knew one thing: we were all in. Together.

If I had listened to my head back then, none of this would have happened. My head had all the reasons why this was a terrible idea. It had a checklist of why leaving my old corporate life behind, taking risks, and chasing what felt right in my gut was doomed to fail. My head was also telling me that it wasn’t a good idea to get into a relationship at this time. My head had a lot of warnings, and some of them even made sense. But my heart and my gut? They knew better.

When my mom said, “You found someone who is your kind of crazy,” I thought she was joking. But she wasn’t. She was right. I leap before I look. I barrel into projects I have no business starting because some voice inside whispers, You’ll figure it out. And I do. But it’s only because Klee is there rooting for me (no matter how insane my ideas are)—my partner, my best friend, and quite possibly the most amazing human I’ve ever met.

These last few months have been tough. Watching her go through health struggles has been hard, but I’ve been amazed by her strength, her quiet determination, and her ability to stay hopeful, even when things seemed uncertain. I’ve thought a lot about how much she’s impacted my life, how much better the world feels with her in it, and how grateful I am that we found each other.

Your heart doesn’t deal in logic; it speaks the language of passion and purpose. Your gut doesn’t care about the odds; it’s tuned into something deeper—something that tells you where you’re meant to go, even if it doesn’t make sense on paper.

Following your heart and gut doesn’t mean you won’t fail. Oh, you will. Trust me, we’ve failed a lot. But it’s through those failures that we’ve built the life we have now—one filled with art, music, community, love, and memories we wouldn’t trade for anything.

To our community—our tribe of beautiful, creative, supportive humans who love us and our art—you’ve made this journey even more incredible. Whether you’ve cheered us on from the sidelines, joined our Patreon, or simply sent us good vibes when we needed them most, you’ve been a part of our story. Thank you for believing in us, for laughing with us, for showing up.

Klee is eager to get back into the studio next week. We still have a long healing road ahead, but we’re on it together, and that’s what matters.

So here’s the food for thought I promised: Sometimes your head will try to talk you out of the very thing your soul is calling you to do. It will give you reasons, statistics, and worst-case scenarios. But your heart and your gut? They’ll whisper truths that logic can’t touch. Trust them. Trust yourself. Because the best adventures—the ones that lead to love, creativity, and the kind of life you’ll look back on with a smile—don’t come from playing it safe. They come from leaping into the unknown and trusting you’ll figure it out along the way.

Stay weird, stay wonderful, and follow your heart. The horizon is waiting.

With love and gratitude,
Rafi (and Klee, who will be back to feeling awesome in no time)

CONGRATUALATIONS ALIYU!

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Rediscovering Happiness: A Journey Through Time and Song

As Klee recovers, I’ve been sorting through some old files. Life is a series of moments strung together like beads on a necklace—some bright, some dark, but all part of the story we wear. Recently, we stumbled upon a forgotten treasure, a music video we had recorded back in 2010. It was for a song called The Happy Song, created during one of the most profound periods of our lives. The memories came rushing back as we watched it, every note and frame carrying us to a time when happiness wasn’t just a pursuit but an act of creative rebellion.

We had hit the road Back then and were staying in Key West, we were living a nomadic life, pouring our energy into music because it fit in our backpacks. Recording our first album, Let Me Sell You a Dream, was an act of faith in ourselves(and recording music in someone’s kitchen. My daughters had flown out to stay with us for a month, and every day felt like a canvas of endless possibility. But it wasn’t all sunshine and palm trees; there were deeper questions lurking beneath the surface, especially for Klee.

She was wrestling with a question that many of us face: Where does happiness come from? In a moment of frustration, she asked, “Why is it so hard to write a happy song?” And then, like magic, the song poured out of her—pure, honest, and transformative.

The Happy Song isn’t just a melody; it’s a message. It’s a reminder that happiness isn’t something you chase; it’s something you choose. It taught us that while life’s shadows give contrast and depth, they don’t define the whole picture. The present moment is where the light lives, and we have the power to revel in it.

Watch the video here and let us know where it hits you:

Watching that video reminded us of the simple truth embedded in the lyrics:
“If the sun is shining in December, why do we force ourselves to remember times that were darker and grey?”

We carry so much weight from the past, don’t we? Regrets, pain, and struggles often seem more “worthy” of our attention than joy. But joy is worthy too—worthy of being sung about, shared, and celebrated.

The act of finding this video, editing it on newer equipment, and sharing it again has been a gift. It reminded us to pause and recognize the love and light that surround us in the now. It’s easy to forget that happiness isn’t a destination—it’s a practice, an art, a moment-to-moment decision to focus on what’s good, what’s here, and what’s now.

If you’re reading this, take a moment to breathe deeply. Let go of the storms you expect and embrace the clear skies of today. Let the love of this moment pour out of you.

You don’t need a song to remind you of happiness, but if you do, let this be the one. Let it whisper to you:

“We belong in the light of today.”

Find your own version of The Happy Song in the every day. Maybe it’s in the smile of someone you love, the warmth of the sun on your skin, or the quiet triumph of overcoming a challenge. Wherever it is, sing it, share it, and live it.

Because happiness isn’t something you find—it’s something you create. And that, creative human, is the greatest art of all.

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Update On Klee: Friday Night in The Emergency Room

Here’s an update for all of you awesome humans following along on Klee’s health journey, this one is something else. When you think about Friday nights, you probably picture cozy evenings, good food, maybe a movie, and definitely no emergency rooms. Well, our Friday decided to flip the script on all that and deliver a plot twist we didn’t see coming. Buckle up for the adventure we didn’t order but tackled anyway, because that’s just how we roll.

The Start of The Day: Everything is Calm and Normal

It started innocently enough. We drove to Titusville Area Hospital for some lab work—standard post-colonoscopy follow-up. The gut-and-butt doctor wanted a few more tests. And by “a few,” they meant ALL the blood. As Klee joked, “They took it all!” Despite the sudden generosity to medical science, spirits were high.

Back home, I whipped up some lunch, and we laid out our day: I’d get some work done, chill, eat a good meal, and watch a movie. A solid, low-key Friday plan. Klee napped while I popped online to share a positive update with everyone following our journey. She’d been feeling better, and I was excited to spread the good news.

But then, life said, “Hold the phone.”

The Call: And We’re Off!

No sooner had I hit “send” on my positive message, than the phone rang. The nurse. Not just any nurse—the one with the authority to interrupt naptime and evening plans.

“We need you to go to the emergency room immediately,” they said. Klee’s hemoglobin was critically low, and a blood infusion was non-negotiable. We sighed, looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders, and said. “Adventure time!”

We packed up and headed back to Titusville Area Hospital, arriving just as the snow started whispering, “I’m about to get serious.” Klee was settled into the ER and prepping to get hooked up to her life-giving blood bag. Meanwhile, I realized dinner time was approaching, and Klee’s dietary schedule is no joke. Because of medications, she needs to eat by certain times, and what she eats can’t be from fast food places.

The Commute: Cooking vs. Snowpocalypse

Determined to get her a proper meal, I braved the worsening snowstorm for the drive home. Earlier in the week, I’d bragged about finishing all my outdoor chores before the blizzard. This almost made me laugh… almost.

At home, I cooked dinner, brewed a thermos of peppermint and ginger tea, and prepped for the return trek. The roads were now less “roads” and more “a suggestion under a layer of snow,” but I made it back to the hospital safe and sound.

Dinner and Ghostbusters in the ER

We turned the ER into our private (and slightly surreal) dinner theater. While Klee relaxed with her blood bag BFF, we dined on our homemade meal and watched an old rerun of Ghostbusters. Honestly, it was kind of cozy (as cozy as you can make an ER room feel). The nurses and doctors were incredible, their kindness making the whole experience feel less daunting.

The infusion wrapped up just before midnight, and Klee was officially released. Her color had returned, and she was feeling significantly better. Success!

The Final Stretch: Snow, Snails, and Sweet Relief

The drive home was, shall we say, deliberate. The snow had fully embraced its chaotic energy, but we took it slow and steady. By the time we finally crawled into our warm bed, we were too grateful to care about how our plans had derailed. Klee was experiencing pain and had to take pain meds for the first time in days, but it was kind of expected with our routine being thrown off like it was. She’s feeling better this morning.

Reflections: Rolling with It

Sure, this wasn’t the Friday night we envisioned, but it reminded us that life doesn’t always stick to the plan. You can either roll with it or get bogged down in frustration. We chose to roll.

The ER team was fantastic, and despite the snow and the stress, we came out of it stronger. Klee’s already feeling better, resting up, and gearing up for Monday’s follow-up labs and Wednesday’s biopsy results.

So, here’s to unexpected adventures, brave nurses, and finding the humor and heart in the curveballs life throws at us.

As always, thank you for your support and love. You guys are amazing! I’ll keep you posted.

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We Have Good News – Update On Klee

There’s nothing quite like starting your day at 4 AM with a little colonoscopy prep, right? That’s exactly how our morning began today. Klee had to chug the second half of her “magic potion,” a gallon jug of juice whose sole purpose is to clear the digestive battlefield. Being the supportive partner I am, I got up too, brewed myself a coffee, and then, in what can only be described as a moment of overachieving empathy (or sleep-deprived bad judgment), I reached for a cup of prune juice to ease my tiny bout with morning constipation. Why? Solidarity? Curiosity? Let’s go with “too early to think.”

This might be TMI, but between Klee’s marathon with the prep solution and my own questionable beverage choice, let’s say this morning turned into an interesting symphony of, well, activity. Hey, it’s all part of the real-life charm we like to share with you. Sorry not sorry.

Early Morning On Our Way To Meadville Hospital

By 7:30 AM, with the front of the house freshly shoveled (by yours truly) to avoid any snow-related mishaps, we hopped in the car and headed to Meadville Hospital. Normally a 45-minute drive, the snow decided to extend that journey to just over an hour. If you’re imagining us cruising serenely through a winter wonderland, stop. Picture instead two people nervously watching the clock like hawks, hoping there’d be a bathroom nearby if the “magic potion” and “poor beverage choice” still had unfinished business.

Despite the nerves, the weather, and desperately “holding it”, we made it to the hospital without incident. The staff was wonderful, and before long, Klee was prepped for her first experience going under anesthesia. For those curious, her feedback on the experience was enthusiastic and brief: “Wow, this is…” followed by an immediate plunge into dreamland.

I was losing my mind waiting during Klee’s procedure but the nurses brought me coffee and were super nice.

After the procedure, the doctor gave me the update: Klee’s colon is still 90% inflamed but healing. There were no signs of anything cancerous, which was a massive relief. He took a biopsy and scheduled additional tests, but the path forward seems promising. The best part of the day? Watching Klee’s face light up as she emerged from the anesthesia, clutching a chocolate pudding cup like it was the greatest treasure on earth. Her joy was contagious—chocolate pudding has never been so celebrated.

This makes chocolate pudding look like the elixir of the gods

On our way home, we picked up some supplies just in time for another round of heavy snow. I’d like to point out the irony here: after my early-morning shoveling efforts, the snow returned in full force. I’m trying to laugh about it, but really, snow? Really?

Back at home, I made Klee some soup—her first real meal after a marathon of clear liquids. Watching her enjoy it was like watching someone rediscover the joy of food. The sparkle in her eyes is something I’ve missed, and seeing her feel a little better—even if it’s a small step—means everything.

Really snow? I just shoveled all of that!

Tonight, we’re taking it easy. I’ve decided to take the day off and not get in the studio. Dinner is happening early, and for the first time, we’re watching The Sound of Music together. (Yes, she’s never seen it, and yes, she’s very excited!) It’s been a long day, but it’s ending on a warm, cozy note.

It’s easy to get wrapped up in worry, frustration, or the uncertainty of what’s ahead, but today was a reminder to pause and notice the beauty in the now. The way Klee’s face lit up at the thought of food. The shared giggle when we both realized prune juice solidarity was maybe not the wisest idea. The simple comfort of planning a cozy evening with a classic movie. These moments might seem small, but they’re the ones that carry us through the bigger challenges.

Life will always have its curveballs, whether it’s a health scare, a snowstorm, or just the daily grind. But it’s in these moments of connection and humor that we find our strength. Even on the hard days, there’s so much to be grateful for—each laugh, each hug, each shared glance that says, We’ve got this.

To everyone who has sent us love and support, thank you. It’s hard to put into words how much it means to us, especially during times like this. We’ll keep you posted on Klee’s progress, we should know more in 7 days. And to those waiting on jewelry orders, we appreciate your patience. Klee is eager to get back in the studio, but her health is not there yet.

Until then, we’re taking things one step (and one pudding cup. Yes, we bought some on the way home) at a time. Thanks for being part of our journey, and here’s hoping for fewer snowstorms and more good news ahead.

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Win a Signed 2025 Limited Edition Calendar and Start the Year Off Right!

It’s a new year, and we’re diving in with something super exciting—a giveaway! What better way to kick off 2025 than with a little fun, creativity, and inspiration? That’s why we’re giving you the chance to win a signed 2025 Limited Edition Calendar by yours truly.

This isn’t just any calendar; it’s packed with my quirky Me and It Creatures, uplifting monthly messages, and a sprinkle of joy to keep you smiling through all 365 days. Think of it as a year-long dose of rogue inspiration hanging on your wall!

But first, a little life update. Klee is still resting but feeling much better—yay! We have an important appointment with a specialist this Wednesday, and I’m thrilled to say there’s a light at the end of this tunnel. It’s been a whirlwind, but your support has meant the world to us. We’re planning to get back into the swing of things by February, and we’ll be taking baby steps.

One of our big goals for this year is to have a monthly giveaway. Why? Because they’re fun, and we LOVE connecting with you! We couldn’t think of a better way to kick off this tradition than with my 2025 calendar.

CONGRATUALATIONS ALIYU!

Drawing Details
The drawing closes at 10pm Eastern on January 31st, so don’t wait too long to enter. We’ll announce the lucky winner at the beginning of February and email them directly.

We’re so excited to bring a little more creativity into your life this year. Let’s make 2025 an awesome one—together. And don’t forget: someone out there will be starting their year with a signed calendar full of rogue magic! Will it be you?

Stay tuned, stay creative, and let’s start this year off right.

With love and art,
Rafi (and Klee, who’s cheering us on while resting)

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Goodbye 2024 And Hello New Beginnings!

As 2024 finally limps off stage, I can’t help but wave it a bittersweet goodbye—emphasis on the “sweet” because, honestly, good riddance. Don’t let the calendar page hit you on the way out, 2024. But before we kick it to the curb and pop the champagne (or sparkling cider—no judgment here), let’s take a moment to reflect on the year that tried to be a good year.

Act 1: The Year Started Strong… Kinda

2024 came in hot. January was filled with big studio plans and creative energy. On the surface, things were looking good, but let’s rewind to October 2023 when “They who shall not be named” moved in. Things were… weird. And by January? Weird escalated to “living in a psychological thriller.” You can read the story here if you don’t know what I’m talking about.

While I was focusing on getting back into my creative groove, the home dynamic turned into a reality show nobody wanted to watch. Toxic vibes were brewing, and it became clear that this would be the year of dodging drama while clinging to our art studio for dear life.

Act 2: Art Saves the Day

February hit, and so did the passive-aggressiveness at home. Klee and I were drained to the point that filming and recording content felt impossible. But art doesn’t care about drama, and it kept happening. We buried ourselves in creative projects, which became our lifeline.

In March, we decided to tackle the chaos head-on by releasing a music video about interdimensional millipedes. If you missed it, let’s just say it’s exactly what you didn’t know you needed in your life. We also worked on a sculpture together, a rare and much-needed moment of peace amidst the growing tension.

Act 3: Solar Flares and Stomach Flares

April brought solar eclipses—and somehow the excuse for passive-aggressive behavior at home was “the solar flares made me do it.” (I’ll give you a moment to process that.) We taught a workshop and did an interview, smiling through the stress. Meanwhile, Klee’s health started showing signs of strain.

By May, Klee was experiencing stomach issues that left us worried. Balancing events, shows, and guests with the increasingly volatile situation at home was a recipe for burnout. Financially, things got tight, leading to an “oh crap” sale. Thankfully, our amazing community came through for us, reminding us why we love what we do.

Act 4: Enough is Enough

June and July were a blur of exhibitions, speaking engagements, and passive-aggressive nonsense. On Klee’s birthday, the tension hit its peak as they decided to move out—kind of. They left a mess behind and strung us along for another month. By July, I had reached my limit. They had moved out in the middle of the night and left a mess and a bunch of their stuff. I told them to get their stuff or it was going on the curb in a month. (Spoiler: it almost went on the curb.)

Meanwhile, Klee’s health continued to decline, and we knew we had to make some big changes to protect her well-being.

Act 5: Rebuilding, One Day at a Time

August to October was a mix of rebuilding and holding onto hope. We tackled murals, concerts, book fairs, and road trips, all while managing Klee’s symptoms. With the house finally free of toxicity, we started feeling glimmers of normalcy. But as we moved into fall, Klee’s health challenges returned.

October brought the release of Dear Artist, Don’t Give Up and Halloween festivities, which Klee insisted on participating in despite her struggles. She’s tough like that.

Act 6: Closing the Year with Gratitude

November and December were about pacing ourselves and focusing on what mattered most. We mailed out books, released calendars, and prepped for our holiday sale while keeping Klee’s health a priority. Then, on December 2, the year decided to throw one last curveball: Klee was in excruciating pain which eventually led to a week-long hospital stay. We cancelled to virtual show and have been navigating her pain levels since. Your support during this time has been precious and I can’t thank you enough.

I’ve got good news. As of today, December 31st, as we close out 2024, there’s a spark of hope. Klee is starting to feel better, eating again, and smiling—proof that even the toughest years can end on a good note. This morning is the first morning in a month where she did not start the day on pain meds. Hooray! She is still weak but in really good spirits! We are also confirmed for her appointment with the specialist on January 8th, which means it’s right around the corner. A healthy start to what I hope is a great year.

What We Learned in 2024

Life has a way of teaching us lessons in the moments we least expect, and sometimes, those lessons come wrapped in challenges that test our limits. This year, we learned one of the most important truths of all: never let toxic people have control over you and your emotions, no matter who they are.

It’s easy to fall into the trap of people-pleasing, especially when you’re someone like Klee or me—always striving to make others feel safe, comfortable, and cared for. But what happens when that kindness is met with disrespect? When boundaries are crossed, ignored, and broken time and again? For us, the result was emotional exhaustion, a fractured sense of peace, and a heavy toll on our mental health.

Klee, being the incredibly generous and compassionate soul that she is, bore the brunt of this. Her boundaries were disrespected, and instead of standing firm, we found ourselves compromising over and over, trying to “keep the peace.” But here’s the thing: real peace isn’t about avoiding confrontation. It’s about honoring your own well-being enough to stand up for it.

Stress Isn’t Worth Your Health

The emotional and financial stress of this year (“They who shall not be named” came with extra bills) became a storm we were constantly weathering. As much as we pride ourselves on living bright, positive, and authentic lives, we found ourselves burying emotions instead of confronting them. Bottled-up emotions don’t just stay hidden. They leak out in ways that hurt your body, your relationships, and your soul.

We saw it firsthand as stress took a toll on Klee’s health. Watching someone you love suffer is a wake-up call like no other. It forced us to take a hard look at how we were living and the compromises we were making. No job, no relationship, no obligation is worth sacrificing your health or your happiness. Period.

The Strength of Joy

Even in the midst of all this chaos, one thing became crystal clear: we have so much to be grateful for. We have each other, a life filled with creativity, and a community of incredible, supportive humans who remind us of the good in the world. These challenges won’t make us bitter. They’ll make us stronger. And that strength is a source of joy all its own.

Joy isn’t something you wait for; it’s something you choose. We found it in quiet studio moments, in music, in laughter, and even in the lessons we’ve learned through this tough year. Joy doesn’t erase the hard times, but it gives you the power to rise above them.

Our Wish for You

If there’s one thing we’ve learned that we want to pass on, it’s this: guard your peace fiercely. Protect your boundaries like they’re sacred, because they are. Speak your truth, even if it’s uncomfortable. And never—never—sacrifice your well-being to make someone else comfortable.

Stress isn’t worth your health, but joy is worth everything. No matter what you’re going through, find those sparks of joy. They’re what will carry you through, make you stronger, and remind you of how powerful you really are.

Here’s to learning, growing, and finding joy in every challenge. Here’s to standing tall, setting boundaries, and living with love and strength.

A Special New Year’s Message for You

As we step into 2025, I want to wish each and every one of you an absolutely amazing year ahead. May your days be filled with creativity, laughter, and the kind of magic that only comes from being unapologetically yourself.

I hope this year brings you good health, great adventures, and unexpected moments of joy that remind you how incredible life can be—even when it throws you curveballs. Here’s to a year of growth, resilience, and art that makes the world a little brighter.

Thank you for being part of our journey and for sharing yours with us. You inspire us every single day, and we’re so grateful to have you in our corner. Let’s make 2025 a year to remember, together.

Cheers to a beautiful new year,
Rafi & Klee

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45 Calendars Left, and the Countdown to the Butt and Gut Doctor Begins

Hey, awesome humans!

Let me start by saying: I’m the worst calendar salesman ever. Seriously, if there was an award for “Artist Most Likely to Forget They’re Selling Something,” I’d win it this year. Somewhere in the chaos of life, I completely forgot to remind you lovely people that I still have a stack of 45 of my Me and It Creatures 2025 calendars left. That’s right, 45! Usually, these are long gone by now, and I’m patting myself on the back for a job well done.

But alas, life has been… let’s say interesting lately. Between Klee’s health challenges and navigating the holiday whirlwind, my marketing skills took a little snooze. (And by “a little,” I mean full-on hibernation.)

About the Calendars

In case you’re wondering what makes this calendar so special, let me enlighten you. Each month is packed with my quirky, lovable Me and It Creatures, grotesque-yet-adorable monsters spreading joy and inspiration. Think of them as your emotional support monsters for 2025. They’ll cheer you on, make you smile, and maybe even remind you that life’s little moments of weirdness are worth celebrating.

And because I feel bad for forgetting to sell them, here’s a little incentive: Use the code rafiwashere001 at checkout to snag 10% off.

Order now, and I’ll ship them out on December 30th. Yes, I will personally ship them. No robots, just me, probably drinking coffee and double-checking your address with the intensity of someone who doesn’t trust printers.

Life Update: Holding On Until the Butt and Gut Doctor Saves the Day

Now, on to the real-life stuff. If you’ve been following along, you know Klee hasn’t been feeling well for months. But there’s good news on the horizon! On January 8th, we’re finally seeing the highly-anticipated Butt and Gut Doctor. (Yes, that’s the technical term. No, I’m not making this up… well, maybe.)

This doc is supposed to be the superhero who swoops in with medications that actually target the root issue. Until then, we’re holding on strong, taking things one day at a time. Last night was better than most—Klee got some real rest, and her pain levels have dropped from monstrously unbearable to just mildly villainous.

It’s been a long and rough few weeks, and we know we’re not out of the woods yet. But the upturn we’re seeing feels like a little light at the end of a very twisty, bumpy tunnel. A little pain is so much better than a lot of pain, and every moment of relief feels like a small victory.

Thank You for Your Love and Support

To all of you who’ve reached out with kind words, encouragement, financial support, or just sent good vibes, we can’t thank you enough. Your support means the world to us and makes this crazy journey a little less lonely and stress inducing (which is important for Klee right now), thank you for the gift of peace.

So, let’s wrap this up with a reminder:
If you want one of those Me and It Creatures calendars, now’s your chance. You’ll get some monster magic to brighten your 2025, and you’ll help me not feel like I completely failed at selling them this year.

Grab yours before they’re gone—and don’t forget that sweet 10% off code: rafiwashere001.

Here’s to calendars, creatures, and hoping the Butt and Gut Doctor is the real MVP of 2025!

With love and a little less pain,
Rafi (and Klee, who is currently snoozing like the warrior she is)

2025 Limited Edition Calendar Signed By Artist Rafi Perez - Me And It Edition

2025 Limited Edition Calendar Signed By Artist Rafi Perez – Me And It Edition

ABOUT THIS CALENDAR
Get ready to bring a splash of joy and inspiration to your year with the Me And It 2025 Limited Edition Calendar! These quirky little monsters are here to make each day an adventure, with their delightful expressions and heartwarming messages designed to lift your spirits. Each month features a unique scene with these lovable characters, paired with…

Original price was: $34.00.Current price is: $20.00.

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