THE PILGRIM IN ME

THE PILGRIM IN ME

Imagine this. My ancestor John Howland was swept off the Mayflower one night in the middle of a storm. Thrown straight into the black waters of the Atlantic, he vanished into the chaos of waves: cold, dark, a giant ship pitching above him, sliding away into the night....
Keeping It Real

Keeping It Real

When my father was a young man, he sold Triumph motorcycles across Ohio, Illinois, Michigan, and the surrounding states. He loved the work, the open road, the smell of gas and grease, the satisfaction of putting the right machine in the right hands. But when Triumph...
The Circles We Make

The Circles We Make

I’ve always been drawn to the idea of the art collective, not just the work that comes out of it, but the feeling of it. The alchemy of people creating together, side by side. Sharing meals, materials, and ideas. Inspiring each other. A kind of organized chaos that...
Life is a Creative Process

Life is a Creative Process

An Old Friend This past week in Asheville was more than just a creative reunion with an old friend — it felt like coming home to a part of myself I hadn’t visited in years. I was invited to spend a couple of weeks helping a fellow artist bring an old Griffin printing...
Zap-Zap

Zap-Zap

There’s a strange kind of beauty in stepping away from the life you know. It reminds me of my first trip to Europe years ago—three months of traveling from Paris to Ireland and everywhere in between. When I came back, I felt like I had changed in ways I couldn’t...