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Who You Are When No One Is Buying

Who You Are When No One Is Buying

Just me, playing with my Virginia Woolf Portrait on the book cover. Dreaming. Two mornings. Same studio. The first: I walk in with the list alrea...
We already know.

We already know.

My grandmother never used a thermometer for bread. She pressed her wrist to the dough the way you’d press it to a feverish child’s forehead. A del...
The Artist Does Not Apologize

The Artist Does Not Apologize

Someone will always ask it with the slight narrowing of the eyes, the pause before "nice work." How can you paint right now? How can you think ab...
Studio Tangents: The Palette as Brain

Studio Tangents: The Palette as Brain

What I'm watching/listening to this week Josef Albers: To Open Eyes — Yale Film. A short documentary on Albers' teaching method, which was not th...
Under Their Eye

Under Their Eye

You do not need a camera pointed at you to feel watched. The condition comes before the device. It has, in fact, been with us for some time — with...
The Quality of Our Attention.

The Quality of Our Attention.

New England | Marsh 5 | Collect Art Print Here ▶︎ Last week, I spent fifteen minutes watching water move through a wash. That is all. I laid pigme...
What Finishing Is For

What Finishing Is For

Look, how they used to finish with gold and meticulousness. The worst version of productivity is when everything is almost done. I have lived insi...
Studio Tangents: The Flat Truth

Studio Tangents: The Flat Truth

What I watched this week Gerhard Richter Painting — Corinna Belz, 2011. Richter pulling a squeegee the width of his body across a canvas three tim...
The Art of Lingering Part 2.

The Art of Lingering Part 2.

The Vein, amiright? Ex-acrobat, that's why.    Read The Art of Lingering Part 1 here.  Back to lingering. Part Duo. As per the quote: Why hurry ...
When Walter White cried in the desert.

When Walter White cried in the desert.

Spoiler alert! If you're holding off on diving into the "Breaking Bad" pool of drama, skip this post. Imagine it: 3 am, Wisconsin, a solitary figu...
Studio Tangents: The Color That Chose Me

Studio Tangents: The Color That Chose Me

Arvo Pärt — Spiegel im Spiegel. Ten minutes. Put it on before you open the door to your studio. You'll understand why. I did not choose Prussian ...
How to Not Explain Yourself

How to Not Explain Yourself

There is a version of the creative life I have been watching people live for twelve years: the version where you spend more energy justifying the w...
The Art of Lingering

The Art of Lingering

There is a quality of time in the studio that has no name in English. In Polish, we might call it czuwanie — a vigil, a watching-over, a being-wit...
Studio Tangents: The Infrastructure Nobody Sees

Studio Tangents: The Infrastructure Nobody Sees

What I'm listening to this week One Terabyte of Kilobyte Age — Olia Lialina & Dragan Espenschied's Tumblr of rescued GeoCities pages. Not exa...
Studio Tangents: The Field Studio

Studio Tangents: The Field Studio

What I'm watching this week Mr. Turner — directed by Mike Leigh, 2014. Timothy Spall as Turner, barely speaking, sketching constantly. There is a ...
Nostalgia.

Nostalgia.

01: The Nostalgia. I miss when people just knocked on my door instead of texting, “Here.” When phones were attached to walls and had cords that ta...
Studio Tangents: Tangents with Georgia O'Keeffe.

Studio Tangents: Tangents with Georgia O'Keeffe.

This is how I enter 2026. This is the energy. Boots on the ground, literally. Stomping the old and making sure 2026 hears me, because there is no ...
Watercolor or Death. Manifesto.

Watercolor or Death. Manifesto.

watercolorordeath My own hashtag. Too much? Maybe. But that’s exactly how it feels — like a blood oath with brushes. Same as I feel with the ocean...
Studio Tangents: Tangents about Nipples.

Studio Tangents: Tangents about Nipples.

Are nipples a crime on Shopify? They are on Instagram. I just had breakfast with a friend who left the Orthodox Church (almost fully), and we laug...
All is Quinacridone Orange

All is Quinacridone Orange

Emily's Woods | Art Prints Available here: The Fall is my favorite smell. The smells of in-between and mischief. People burn their leaves, squirr...
Jagna in a Jar.

Jagna in a Jar.

While people watched the Sun God being devoured by a dragon *, I fondled my dough. Her pronouns are She / Her / Dope. I watch her breathe, I feel ...