Notes From the Studio

1/31/2025

A couple Christmases ago, I handed my friend Lee a bag of garlic. His family was hosting a party, so I put together a little gift bag for them, including a few bulbs of garlic from our garden that year. I figured Lee, being a chef and hot sauce gourmand, would appreciate it. After handing him the bag, he immediately pulls out the bulbs of garlic, shoves them against his nose, and inhales deeply.

This is what true passion looks like.

There's a difference between enthusiasm and passion. Someone who is enthusiastic about cooking might've casually sniffed the garlic, assessed its quality, maybe even remarked on its varietal. But passion, man, passion gets weird. Passion dives right in, full and deep inhale, both nostrils, and doesn't give a damn about any opinion of those watching. It's fully consumed, completely caught up in the moment.

Passion is honestly terrifying. You can't be truly passionate about something and still retain a little self-control, a certain measure of cynical distance, just in case you're not accepted by the onlookers. You have to give yourself over to it, unconditionally.

I've been thinking a lot about this when it comes to art. True art is passionate. That doesn't mean it's always grandiose or extravagant, but it is all-in. It's vulnerable, making something that bears witness to your insides and sharing it with others. That's the art that moves people, that inspires, that carries us forward and makes us better humans.

Now as much as ever, it's the art that we need.

Ink on Paper

Been focused on other projects lately, but today I spent some time in the studio just cleaning, picking up, and simply refreshing the space. It really needed it after a hectic holiday season and the last of the construction. I broke down a few forms, put type away, and tidied up all the work areas. I also finally received several strips of creasing matrix, so next on my list is beginning to build up some card inventory. Onward!

Other Rambles

"I think, in some ways, that letting go of empathy is to accept the freedom of difference, that we are each our own unique and wild selves, never wholly understandable to each other. It's to accept that it isn't necessary to understand someone to fight for their liberation. Perhaps, then, to relinquish empathy is to become aware of our own interdependence, to trade power for solidarity, with all the joy and possibility - and, yes, fear - that entails." Mandy Brown / A Working Library

Really loved this essay, you can read it here.

See you out there,