110. Butterfly
How we handle delicate things. Oblique peeks over the shoulder. Renewal, restraint, and change.
Winter has been a “feels like 10º F” kind of situation here in NYC. I’ve been holed up eating soup, reading stories, not talking much. I’m saturated with what’s been going on. I’ve been battling with, and traveling back and forth across the country to take care of, my elderly mother. I’m preparing for things that weigh on my mind.
Right now I’m inclined toward silence in the studio too, experiencing a near-superstitious reluctance to verbalize. I haven’t wanted to talk about, explain, or expose what I’m working on.
The irony, obviously, is that this newsletter is precisely about shining a light on process.
It’s of course not uncommon for artists to be cagey about what they’re making while they’re making it, and we’ve been here before: this tends to happen at the beginning of a project, or after a break in a plateau. In a previous issue:
A few ways I try to protect the germ as it takes shape: talk about it in retrospect; share what it is now versus speculate; focus on process versus prospect…
In another:
The gestational phase of a project is always a tricky one to navigate in terms of verbalization and sharing (both can be toxic for delicate things). So while the germ of the idea comes into its own, I’m gonna try to ruminate and observe, versus describe or define.
Last week I had my first crit/mentorship session of the year (more on this below). Butterflies’ wings came up as an analogy; the consequences of disturbing fragile structures. Dreams came to mind, too: once vivid and alive, they begin disintegrating as soon as one looks too closely, for too long, or tries to capture them in words.
It’s possible to handle delicate things, but there’s a kind of dance I think we have to do. Talk around them; use symbols instead of words; feign nonchalance or even ignorance, until they’re too established to leave.
In the studio
I’d planned on taking January off but was compelled to publish this sooner than later. Not only because I’ve been working, but because I’ve been restless about the newsletter itself. I wanted to, I don’t know, set the stage. This felt uncannily reflected in another newsletter that came into my inbox the other day, with the subject “Going dark:”
We’ve been thinking about what it means to withdraw…What does it mean to step back from spaces that don’t serve us? Can this be done responsibly? How can we protect our attention and energy while still representing and staying true to the things we believe? We’re going to be practicing what we’re preaching. How and where we show up will be changing. Less noise. More signal.
I’m curious how desire for renewal, restraint, and change will manifest here in TLB.
While we think on it, let’s ease in with some talk about new-ish tools I’ve been using, then peek—however obliquely—at a photographic timeline of recent work.
Tools
I now use the Desiderata Bamf fountain pen (close-up in an earlier issue) with Carbon Platinum Black ink almost daily. It’s an investment and relatively high-maintenance, but I think it’s worth it:
The Fude de Mannen fountain pen, inexpensive and lower-maintenance, has become just as core to my drawing practice. It has an angled tip that allows me to go from hairline to very thick stroke width as I sketch. I’ve had it for years but could never get it to work properly. Turns out that the ink cartridges that come with it are trash; use a converter with good ink to get it to perform. CPB to the rescue again! I love this smooth, luxurious ink. If the pen stalls, flush the nib with scalding water (e.g., under the tap) to ungunk after a day away:
Albrecht Dürer watercolor pencil #199 Black has also been in my toolbox for a while. I forgot how much of a joy it is to use. Sketch with a light hand; experiment by adding water:
Watercolor markers—a recent Xmas gift from one of my sisters—are quite fun:
Here is an obligatory shot of my forever inky-fingers:
A timeline of recent events
And now, what I’ve been up to, in a context-light progression of pictures.1
Organizing:

Visualizing:
Expanding:
Feeling:
Framing:
Big picture-ing:
Provisions
I’ve been inspired, and filled up, by so many things the past few weeks. Here are six:
Braeckman x Spilliaert, art book. My newest obsession: the late Belgian artist Léon Spilliaert and his work, mostly Indian ink wash and colored pencil. I came across this fascinating exhibition catalogue as I went down one rabbit hole:
Good Hang with Amy Poeler & Gwyneth Paltrow. Podcast episode. Gwyneth Paltrow may be out of touch, but she’s also really funny.
The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating by Elisabeth Tova Bailey. Observations. A brief book about stillness and patience, written while the author was suffering from a mysterious illness that had her bedbound for years.
A City and its Uncertain Walls by Murakami. Novel. I got this when it launched at midnight at my favourite bookstore in town, the delightfully anachronistic Three Lives and Co. Finally finished it. I wouldn’t call myself a fan of magical realism, but this was hauntingly charming and unsettling.
RCA Animation Films via EoF #11. A collection of animated short films. A goldmine of animated shorts, for free. I love the shuffle feature.
Magician Studio BK. Customized mentorship sessions for animators. Last but not least! I rely heavily on animators in my local community for conversation, critique, and advice. Many are educators as well as practicing artists, and I feel blessed to have these relationships. Magician is run by Amanda Bonaiuto and James Thatcher; each have limited monthly slots for mentees at sliding scale, starting at $75/hour. I’m not sure if they have any slots left but you can probably get on a waitlist if not! I usually meet with Amanda via Zoom so being remote is not an issue.
That’s all2 for today.
Until next time.
If you’ve been following along, especially as an Investor, you know I’m working on an animated short film and have seen the pitch for it <3
For someone who doesn’t want to talk…
















There's such a fine line between nurturing creative work and suffocating it with too much scrutiny. Your butterfly wings metaphor captures it perfectly - that dance of talking around delicate ideas using symbols rather than pinning them down with direct language. The tension between wanting to share process transparently while protecting the gestational phase is something every maker wrestles with. Appreciate you putting this into words even while navigating that reluctance.