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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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Facing Fear Is Basically the Job Description of an Artist

I wanted to share something with you that’s been bouncing around in my head since our ride home last night from the Hatch Hollow exhibition. That was such a cool show. The art was beautiful, the space felt alive, and we met some awesome humans… and yet, the entire time, Klee and I were our usual awkwardly-introverted selves trying to look like we knew what we were doing.

Which brings me to the thing I keep thinking about.

Being an artist means living in a constant rotation of “oh cool… I’m terrified again.”
Every single thing we do is a push out of a comfort zone.

We put ourselves out there.
We show our art.
We share our weird ideas.
We get rejected.
We face crickets.
We push through doubt.
We get asked weird questions about how we look (especially by kids in school lol).
We get looked at like we’re strange for daring to do something many people don’t understand.

Two artists sorting through art supplies in a classroom, one wearing glasses and a blue sweater, the other with a bandana and beard, reflecting a creative and collaborative environment.

And somehow… we keep going.
Honestly, if you’re here reading this, you’re a freakin’ badass. Full stop.

People talk about bravery like it’s a singular moment, but as artists, bravery is the entire lifestyle. You wake up, you make something from your insides, and then you release it into the world knowing full well that someone might not get it, might not like it, or might straight-up ignore it. And you still do it. That’s not just brave… that’s wild, powerful, rogue-level bad-assery.

A Little Food for Thought

Last night reminded me that fear doesn’t go away just because we’ve been doing this for years. It just shows up wearing different outfits. Sometimes it’s a group gallery opening. Sometimes it’s launching something new. Sometimes it’s just saying hello to someone when your introvert circuits are fried.

All of it counts.
All of it is part of the ride.
All of it shapes who we are as creative humans.

Group of people at an art gallery exhibition, with a focus on three individuals in the foreground smiling at the camera. The background features artworks on display and attendees mingling.

How We Push Through Comfort Zones

Just a little something I’ve learned the hard, awkward way:

Acknowledge the fear, but don’t let it drive. Let it sit in the passenger seat and complain, but keep your hands on the wheel.
Take the small step, not the perfect step. Fear loves perfection. We don’t.
Celebrate the weird victories. Did you talk to one human today? Did you post that thing that made you sweaty? Did you show up? Victory.
Remember why you do this. Not for approval, not for permission, not for the algorithm. You do this because you have something inside you that won’t shut up until you create it… and you might as well share it with the world.

We are all out here stumbling forward together, pushing boundaries, and doing the uncomfortable, magical work of making something from nothing.

You’re not alone. You’re not strange. You’re not behind.
You’re an artist, which means you’re braver than you think, more capable than you realize, and part of a community of rogues who refuse to give up.

Love you awesome humans. Keep stepping outside that comfort zone, even if it’s just one wobbly step at a time.

-Rafi

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