October was the ten year anniversary of my first published book, a daily creative journal called 1 Page at a Time. Some of you may have scribbled your way through a year with me at some point since 2014, others may not have heard of this at all. It was the project that changed my life.
Sometime last year there was a conversation about doing a promotion or special edition but ultimately, we opted to do nothing. The book is the book. The bright yellow cover blasts its central aphorism – ONE PAGE AT A TIME – UMA PAGINA DE CADA VEZ – UN JOUR, UNE PAGE – to be found by its people in the world when they might need it.
Like most of my work, who I am is a lot less relevant than the messages themselves. I remain “SOME GUY” who is also navigating, trying to make their way forward, leaving a paper trail of unsolicited advice and reminders that may or may not work for you too.
Ten years later and some of the reminders have started to stick, even if they take a second to kick in. I take the deep breaths. I drink the water. I bring awareness to the way external stimuli compound to create something that feels like anxiety in my body. I lose my mind a little bit, slipping into familiar patterns, and then (with some effort) focus back in on what I know.
Having something to look forward to remains an important part of “being okay” for me. That is the premise of this newsletter, at least in theory. But it’s taken me longer to figure out the new workflows, patterns, and structures of my creative output this year. Or rather, I’ve enjoyed not pushing it any harder than I’d like to.
Slowly, I made new work, and some of it is now ready to share.
New artist editions, including the gently-reimagined return of a few favorites. A perfect mug for when you literally don’t know, a “something to look forward to” calendar for 2025, an indecisive lazy susan, a self-aware ashtray soap dish, a reprint of this special card deck that I love so much, and, with help and encouragement, a smaller, more intentional online shop. So that the art I make has a home, together and in one place.
So far, this feels more like me, and working with friends instead of an enterprise-level fulfillment service feels good. It feels like a more sustainable version of how I started this thing, before publishers, barcodes, and sea freight. It is once again an umbrella for making and sharing rather than the trap I found myself in a few years ago, chasing scale from a place of fear and ego so intense that I opted to flip all the breakers before blowing a fuse.
Gradually plugging back in has reaffirmed much of what I know.
I’m a very human “artist type” with a compulsion to feel and express myself even when it would be easier not to. Wired to be passionate, to see potential, to make something, to try and connect, offline and in tangible form, with others, to express myself through gifts and gift-giving, a powerful love language that I just fucking love for some reason, to value everyday art, especially when it’s small, and to very earnestly believe in the power of a well-timed suggestion to help instigate change for ourselves and others.
Many of you are here reading this because you feel similarly in some way. I’ve always felt grateful that we could find each other in the world.
As we keep going, we take stock of what we want and need, of who we are and who we want to be, and shape a direction from the information we find. The challenge isn’t to grow by changing everything. It’s to protect the soft and special parts of who we are by gradually building strength to both aid and protect what is necessarily and beautifully vulnerable.
While November can feel loaded and stressful any year, this one, this week, feels off the charts. It’s in the astrology, it’s in the news cycle, it’s in the streets, it’s on social media… The energy is frantic, which makes the need to find internal calm all the more clear. We have a lot on our plate already. We can’t be clocking in at 100% everywhere. It’s not sustainable.
We can get through anything, and we know this is true because we already have. We’re here right now, despite the odds. Some of us – reading this message right now – have been connected for a decade, still here in small and big ways, and we’re not going anywhere.
Whatever this season brings, whatever the next thing is, we brace our core, we remember what we know, we protect what feels important, and we keep looking forward.
Thanks for being here,
Adam
I missed you, Adam. Your visits to my inbox make me smile. Your art makes me feel hopeful. That's a phenomenal gift. Sending you a hug through the ethers.
thank you for sharing you and making wonderful things to love