01/09/2026
When I was a kid, my dad was building our house and I spent a lot of time with him on the construction site.
Whenever I got bored, I would sit upstairs with a little pad of paper and make tiny drawings. Nothing elaborate. I made them fast because, apparently, the making wasn’t even my favorite part.
I would take them outside, line them up by the road, put a little stone on each one so they wouldn’t fly away, and try to sell them.
My dad kept telling me: “No one is going to buy these. You need to put more effort into them.”
But I didn’t want to spend more time on the drawings.
I wanted to put them out there.
I wanted someone to see them, want them, choose them.
Looking back, I think I understood something before I had words for it:
Creativity, for me, was always a cycle.
Idea → make → show → desire → exchange → next idea.
I never wanted to just make things and keep them to myself.
I wanted to make something, create a little world around it, and invite people in.
Maybe selling was never separate from my creativity.
Maybe it was always part of it.
