Chicago — The night before I was supposed to deliver a keynote presentation to 500 creatives in Chicago, I stood in front of the mirror to practice my talk. I talked about IDEO, about Uber, about Mailbox. And i...
San francisco — “I’ve been wanting to read that book,” he says “It’s incredible,” I tell him I write his name on the receipt He carries the pot of coffee loosely I know that I’ll probably forget to send him the b...
San francisco — The dog sat on the floor under the easel. She stared at me. I leaned over and placed the first piece of paper on the table. The paper was from Florence. A whole box of it that I bought ten years ago ...
With clean hands.
Saturday morning coffee run
In the middle of the street.
Full moon adventure!
Pomegranate toothpaste and a made up story
Wait a minute, I have the best idea ever.
72° with 50% humidity
Post museum moonrise
Thinking it through.
It turns out that climbing a mountain is really hard.
Funny path moment.
Been working on a very long Hi post here.
12:06pm on a Sunday.
With fresh white walls, the portraits from Bali get unpacked and hung.
I feel warm and fuzzy inside.
*This* page, *this* poem.
Scrub scrub scrub
Tabula rasa, again.
A familiar place
I'm holding the dress and I can't stop smiling.
Resting and reflecting.
One of those moments when it All Feels Right.
Happy hour on the water
His father always smelled of Granado.
We had our work.
Their sweet little voices pass by my studio each morning as they walk to school.
On Thursdays at 1pm we'd meet in front of a painting at the museum and he'd tell us stories.
To: The Housekeeper who did turn down service in room 802 Friday evening, From: The girl in room 802
The Chicago Tribune building, now an Argo Tea Shop.
I stared at the moon and my chest swelled with gratitude. "It's happening," I thought. And I walked home.
The smell of molten lead and PVA.
Texas childhood summers
Spraypaint fumes and a cheese sandwhich and 36 little paintings.
She told us the story about the river beneath the river.
A moment from my journal.
When she had an affair, he made her stand in front of the congregation and repent.
My neighbor told me about the smell of the tree. So I grabbed a coffee and went to find it.
I tried to clean the squeegee by dragging it across the paper. And just like that, the images arrived.
Tomorrow would have been her birthday.
For prosperity, she wrote.
No label, no problem.
A change in plans.
Belly to belly with a 1,000 pound, 12 foot wide manta ray.
The Manta Ray Ballet
I swam so far this morning. Two whales jumped next to me.
Hello from my patio in Hawaii.
A table for one, please.
Working, all of us.
Fresh, volcanic rock surrounds me — raw, gutteral insides spilling open for anyone to see.
Fresh volcanic rock surrounds me — raw, gutteral insides spilling open for anyone to see.
One week, one bag and one hat.
72 hours and counting.
Tired and empty.
She practically taught me everything I know about design. Tonight we completed a painting together, apprentice and mentor, yet again.
After she died, I took all of her flowers.
Cooking a meal for him.
This building keeps making it into my paintings.
A year ago, I was in Tokyo giving a talk on what would have been her 100th birthday.
A coffin of paint. The body has walked away.
A grandfather and granddaughter skip across the water, hand in hand.
Shen Wei performance
Moon rise over Twin Peaks
Far from shore
The most beautiful meeting spot in San Francisco
Sunrise over my bed
Big slow things.