004. Making Stuff / Downpour Studios
April Recap
I let a student of mine, Abigail Holeman (https://www.abigailholeman.com/), choose the topic this month. She’s a great designer with a hunch for fashion and interior design. I showed her the list of topics I have saved, one being Downpour Studios, and that’s what she chose.
It may get a bit self indulgent. My apologies. But here we go…
Downpour Studios
The year is 2009/2010. I had a flip phone, that much I remember. Trying to describe this era is a bit difficult. We had the internet… but it wasn’t the internet we currently know. We had computers, but they weren’t, like, the extra appendage they are now.
In my last year of college, before entering the “real” world, all I knew is that I didn’t want a “real” job, the 9-5-cubicle-office job I had seen portrayed in movies and on TV. But I had seen enough in the world to know what I DID want to do.
I envied the people who started their own record labels—Fat Mike of Fat Wreck Chords, Brett Gurewitz of Epitaph Records, and Jacob Bannon of Deathwish Inc. These were dudes in bands releasing records out of warehouses and offices lined wall to wall in cds, vinyl, and posters. What a dream!
Top: Fat Wreck Chords headquarters. Middle: Epitaph Records office. Bottom: Deathwish Inc. shipping station.
I envied the people who were screen printing for bands—places like Shirts and Destroy, Burlesque of North America, and The Aesthetic Apparatus. I saw pictures and videos of them in their awesome, paint-spattered warehouses jamming tunes while screen printing posters and shirts.
Side bar: I once ordered a shirt with a pizza graphic on it (from Shirts and Destroy) and the packaging was a pizza box (see image below). When the mailman delivered it my parents house, my dad argued with the mailman for ten minutes that he didn’t order a pizza and the mailman had to politely explain that the post office, does not in fact, deliver pizza.
Top: Burlesque of North America studio printing. Middle: Aesthetic Apparatus studio. Bottom: Shirts and Destroy (Liberated Images) Pizza Box.
I envied the graphic designers and advertising agencies who had offices with basketball courts and unique work spaces (think Pixar). Maybe I thought I wasn’t good enough to get those types of jobs or didn’t want to move to get them. While both those sentiments were probably true, I think another reason I didn’t want a “real” job was that those jobs were other people’s dreams and I would be a part of their machine, but what I really wanted was MY OWN machine—to go to work, skateboard and play basketball with my friends, and make creative, valuable work for clients.
Pixar office space.
The concept of DOWNPOUR (my soon to be “design firm”) had seemingly been incubating for years. In my last sub-stack, I talked about starting All Teeth zine. Some of the people I worked with on the zine were my college peers. I pitched them on starting a studio right out of school. My professors told me not to do that and to go get a real job. They were probably right from a broad level (I would tell my students to do the same) but in my specific case, I think, maybe, they were wrong… I think I turned out okay? Time will tell.
I started conceptualizing the company while I worked at the ice arena. Coming up with a name to encapsulate your creative ethos is really hard. I wanted to do everything—illustration, photography, design, video, copywriting, advertising, marketing, whatever was creative and involved ideation (and getting paid)! If I remember correctly, I was filtering through a bunch of my CDs and came across a song title “Downpour” by Converge. I thought it sounded cool and started to justify the name by saying things like “Oh, we’re a downpour of ideas. Oh, we have so many skills our work is a downpour, blah blah blah.”
Whatever, it stuck.
I was stoked, so, I brought it to my friends. They liked it too. Unfortunately, we were all graduating, they were all moving, and I was staying. They got really cool jobs in really cool places outside of Ohio. Okay, I guess that meant I was going back to my life of working out of bedroom studios.
Top: Bedroom studio at “The Moose” during college. Second: Kitchen studio at “The Attic” that had no actual rooms. It was one room with a kitchen and living room. Third: Bedroom studio at “The Loft” post college. Shooting promo pictures for client. Bottom: Bedroom studio at “The Farm” post college setting up lighting for a documentary video interview.
I really like looking at photos of my bedroom studios. Since I was a little kid I’ve always had a desk in my room, so doing creative work in a bedroom always felt natural. The problem was the lack of space and professionalism I was aiming for. Plus, there was no basketball or skateboarding! It was hard to screen print (losing security deposits from staining the bathtub or kitchen sink with screen printing ink, paint drips on the carpet, etc.), do photo shoots, large scale paintings, etc. I needed something… more.
Above: Screen printing shirts in the living room at “The Loft”. Below: Screen printing shirts at “The Farm.”
My friends moving away was a real bummer both from a… let’s hang out and make and do cool stuff way, to a… hey, I have no idea what I’m doing and I need someone to go on this business journey with me way. But it didn’t stop my refusal to get a real job. I’m not sure where my stubbornness or hatred of real jobs came from. (Is that a xennial thing?) Either way, I figured I’d go it alone and just pretend Downpour was a real company—that whole “fake it til you make it” shit.
So, fake it I did.
I worked three different jobs to make bills.
1. Nearly full-time at the Kent State Ice Arena driving the Zamboni, moving hockey nets, and cleaning locker rooms (it was one of those situations where they work you 35-38 hours a week instead of 40 because they don’t/can’t pay for benefits).
Above: Me, moving hockey nets during a hockey game.
2. Screen-printing part time at a local print shop (Why not get a job to learn some of the skills I wanted to incorporate into my business?)
3. Landscaping / wood delivery for family and friends.
Above: Wood pile to move and deliver with my dad. Fun fact: To this day, at nearly seventy years old, my dad still moves loads, splits, stacks, and delivers wood.
While I worked those jobs, I was also working on my art and trying to make connections and get a client list built. It was going okay… but again, making art in your bedroom is one thing, running productions and trying to be “professional” is another.
One connection I did have that was floating me work here and there was a best buddy of mine, bassist in my band, and amazing recording engineer, Gabriel Swarts. He recorded local music groups and nudged them my way for the album art, CD production, flyers, etc.
One day, Gabe sent me a link to a shoddy building in Kent, Ohio. He wanted a space to take his recording more seriously (recording bands in a bedroom is infinitely harder than making art in a bedroom) and he knew I was trying to launch Downpour. We shared a few those musical clients and knew that musicians needed both art and recording, so he thought it would be cool to go in on a creative space—or at least, go check it out and dream about what could be.
So, we went and checked it out.
Above: Scoping out the spot.
It was a REALLY cool spot and I could see the potential. The kicker… the guy renting the spot was a Kent guy who really wanted to keep it rented locally and with a small biz. He also didn’t seem like he wanted to do a lot of the fixing up. He knew we were just starting out so he gave us a killer deal for the first six months that would increase gradually until it hit the price he wanted (that we couldn’t afford at the time). Basically, he was giving us some grace and time to try and start this business. (I work towards paying generosities like his forward every day… whether that’s donating my professional time, doing certain jobs pro-bono, a donation for artists here and there, etc. I truly believe good deeds need repaid by more good deeds.)
We had our spot and we had work to do. Having a space in downtown Kent… it was real! It was a home base. It was professional. It was a mess…
Gabe and myself, with the help from friends and family, painted, sanded, demolished, sanitized, swept, washed, scrubbed, the entire place. We painted the front entrance room (Gabe would use that space to set up drums and larger recording projects) and painted his office (where he would do his audio engineering).
I took the larger back warehouse spot where I planned on doing design, painting, photoshoots, and screen printing. It was large and open and I could skateboard!
After cleaning up the space, we wanted to announce our “opening.” I was doing a lot of research on people who started their own studio—Stefan Sagmeister, Pentagram, Karlssonwilker, The Heads of State, Invisible Creature. It seemed being a designer who starts your own studio came with being bold and shouting about yourself to get work. I was telling someone about starting Downpour and remember them saying “it takes guts to start your own business.” That line stuck with me and I probably took the concept too far (Stefan Sagmeister once carved a poster into his body, so the bar seemed pretty high) but I wanted to make something people noticed. I had the idea to make an invitation that had Gabe and I holding our guts out for the world. Drawing it felt like a cop out compared to carving typography into your skin with a razor.
Above: Poster by Stefan Sagmeister.
After some brainstorming, a buddy of mine had a buddy of his who took care of rescued tigers and a lion. He mentioned that his buddy would scour the streets for roadkill (or sometimes get horses that were put down) to feed the cats, so they had more than enough guts lying around. Gabe and I went over to the farm, grabbed a huge pile of guts and snapped a few pictures. I highly doubt the flyer got any local businesses to come to our open house… but we did get to hang out with some rescued tigers and a lion named Bub.
Top: Big rescue cats! Bottom: Postcard invitation with deer/horse guts.
Invitations were mailed and a sign was hung outside (I couldn’t afford one so we got a piece of metal and I just painted the name on it). Friends, family, and a few local business people came. We hung some art by amazing artists (Lou Barberio and Roni Callahan) and had food and tunes. It was a cool, casual night and felt like an official start of the company.
Top three photos: Some shots from our open house. Bottom: Exterior building with hand painted sign.
After the open house it was time to work. The studio was truly awesome and served a ton of purposes beyond me working on a computer. We had band practice there, fantasy football drafts, we skateboarded and played taps (a basketball game), we filmed music videos, built large structures for events, screen printed all the time, and let friends use the space if needed. It was way more communal than I thought it would be. And a lot of the fun we were having in the studio was bringing in clients. It was loud and energetic. There was a garage door on the side that was always open if the outdoor temperature was over 55. Bands were in and out of the front room and friends and clients were in and out of the back room. People were getting to see what Gabe and I were doing and started talking about it.
My portion of the Studio setup for drawing, design work, and screenprinting.
Band practice.
Video shoots.
Photo shoots.
Fantasy football drafts.
Basketball and foosball games.
Skateboarding.
I even moved into the studio for a few months in-between apartments. The studio didn’t have a kitchen (we did have a fridge and had a grill so food worked out) but it did have a shower! After my apartment lease was up, I moved into the studio to avoid paying two rents for a few months while I apartment hunted. I also brought along my new pal, Omega. I slept on a couch, grilled food on the deck. I would work while Omega chewed on her favorite toy—a large block of firewood from my dad.
Above: Baby Omega, Omega and her wood block, me and Omega hanging on the couch.
Gabe and I worked out of the studio for about two years or so. During this time I was able to quit all my other jobs and focus solely on creative work. Things were going good but our landlord was raising the rent (which he should have) and I was debating on buying a house. Not having a “real job” was making it hard to get loans and paying two rents wasn’t helping banks feel good about loaning me money. It felt like the moment had come to say goodbye to the studio. Gabe and I packed our stuff and headed out.
I ended up moving to a super small rental for a year to save for a down payment for a house. All the stuff I had acquired for the studio got jammed into a shed in the back yard and I went back to working from a bedroom and screen printing in the living room.
Above: Studio stuff smashed into outdoor shed.
Above: Back to printing in a house and covering the floor with old blankets so we didn’t lose the security deposit.
I did end up buying a house (we call it the Pig Pen) and moved my shit into a new bedroom. It was nice. Sometimes actually having to GO TO your studio to work is a pain when most of the work could be done from your couch at home… I was getting used to my bedroom studio and had it all worked out. I was making art, still screen printing, etc.
Above: Bedroom studio at the Pig Pen.
Then, my second child was nearing and the house would soon be out of bedrooms for me to commandeer. I was getting kicked out. The Pig Pen is a farm house built in 1903 (which apparently, at one time, had Stevie Nicks and Kris Kristofferson sleeping on its dining room floor) which means my basement is literally a dirt floor. No cool basement studio for me. I didn’t have enough money to build a studio and really didn’t want to rent a place again and had grown to dislike the idea of traveling to an office to do work—I was older and lazier and had kids to help take care of, dammit!
So, I bought (or rent-to-owned) a shed. We got a concrete pad put in the backyard and they delivered a whole shed on a big-ass truck.
Top: Concrete pad and shed being delivered. Bottom: Excavator stuck (we pulled it out with a truck and chain), putting in insulation.
I pulled some favors from some AMAZING friends to help run electric to the shed (we got the excavator stuck in the mud) and to hang insulation and dry wall. It was a ton of work, only made doable because those amazing friends.
Top: Norah sitting in empty shed. Bottom: Kevin replenishing thirsty dry wall helpers.
While I have ridden the skateboard back and forth in the shed as some ritual christening… it’s not nearly as big as the studio but we still manage to use the space to have community and big ideas. I have a drum set to play and an amp for guitar. Some friends and I built a mini-ramp, put the fire by it, and have get togethers. We’ve even started a little tradition at the studio we call Ramp Camp. We do a shrimp boil, skateboard, Tony Hawk Pro Skater 3 on the projector, sit around the fire until 3am telling stories, get tattooed, and some people stay the night in tents or in the shed like we’re kids again.
Left: Screen printing skateboards. Right: Ramp Camp.
Left: Drawing station. Right: Band practice.
Studio: Fiona’s blue drum set facing my black drum set.
Norah help keeping the shed clean.
Movie night, camp fire, camp out under the lights at the shed.
I’m not sure how important your spaces might be to your creative life, but the older I get the more spaces I need to utilize as creative spaces. I’ve gotten used to working in my office at Kent State, in my living room on the couch, in the car outside of Girl Scouts, at my parents on holidays, in airports, hotel rooms, classrooms before or after I teach, on the porch, at the playground. I actually think I work less in my studio now than I ever have just due to the nature of my day-to-day schedule.
Top: Drawing comics in the car. Bottom: Drawing comics at a Barnes and Nobles book signing.
What I do know is that my work is affected by the spaces I inhabit. I haven’t screen printed in years because the difficulty of my current studio space—no running water, no washout tanks, no dark room, etc. It’s hard to make large scale paintings in a cramped room. I do have heat in the studio but in the dead of winter it takes hours to heat up, so I end up just working inside and not having a lot of paints, supplies, tools, etc. (remember I’m old and lazy now) at my quick disposal which means I work in my house and that’s harder to “lock in” when the kids are bouncing around and the house is a mess (distractions galore).
I also have a second office now at Kent State University. It’s a pain to have my stuff in two different places but I WAS running out of space for my books, so I keep all my design and illustration books at school and work there in between classes.
So that’s how Downpour came to be. I transitioned the moniker of Downpour when I realized no one actually gave a shit about the name of the studio—they only cared about me (awww, shucks) and it seemed my work was moving in a more personal direction anyway (illustration, comics, videography, storytelling) and didn’t need the gimmick of a studio presence. So, now I use Downpour as a production name for all the films I have done and would like to do. I still think it sounds kind of cool.
Making Stuff.
The first thing I made was an ass out of myself by agreeing to do the “Hot Ones” challenge for Kent State’s AIGA chapter. Ice cream saved my life.
I also put myself through a little more pain and got a sister spider (sorry for the close up on my thighs) but I’m always in awe of tattoo artist Jesse Strother’s line and color work. Just incredible.
Still working in the sketchbook as often as I can practicing figures and line techniques!
I also have been in the shed late at night doing some linocut printing and working on a little art series.
The most consuming event this month has been the Kent State Senior VCD show. The students and I have been working all semester to get a show opened and their portfolios in good shape. This crew rules. They had big ideas and even better work to show. Super proud of them all!
Sharing Stuff.
Listening to…
The weather in April sucked and I don’t know if I’m tying music to the weather or just that the weather makes me so angry… I can’t stop with the heavy stuff—Behemoth, Pig Destroyer, Napalm Death, and Norma Jean.
Watching…
Besides some cooking shows (Top Chef, Next Level Kitchen) with Misty during the late night dinners this month (she’s also insanely busy with her own deadlines) I have been playing The Sopranos in the background as I work. This is my third time watching the series and I think it’s amazing that every time I watch it I have a new opinion of all the characters (usually a worse one each time) but I’m not sure if that’s because I’ve been watching them more and more or because I’m getting older and growing…
Reading…
I’m in the middle of Careless People by Sarah Wynn-Williams. It’s really good and even more infuriating.
That’s all folks.