They say expired film captures the things that aren't quite perfect, but have a hell of a lot of character.
Meet my van.
In this frame, she’s peeking out from behind some little flowers while we were completely redoing the wiring on her. She looks sweet, but don't let the flowers fool you—this machine is pure chaos.
Back in 2020, I got an incredible invite to do a massive mobile pop-up at a music festival. Then COVID hit, the festival evaporated, but the dream of a mobile studio stayed alive. So, I went out and bought this van for $1,400 from a guy named David out in East County.
When I first opened the doors, there were literally three inches of tree-trimming dust caked inside the cab. David kept swearing up and down that I could tow a trailer behind it all the way to Colorado. Spoiler alert: the thing barely made it home to Oceanside from Lemon Grove.
To this day, she only starts about every other time I turn the key. She’s stubborn, she’s loud, and she has a mind of her own. But she’s mine.
Sometimes the vehicles—and the paths—we choose to get us to our dreams are messy, temperamental, and held together by new wiring and pure faith. But I wouldn't trade the grit of this journey for a boring, sterile ride any day of the week.
Celebrate the beautiful, messy process of building an independent art business. Prints and postcards of the 'Studio Van' series are officially live in the shop.