I’d never seen the desert green.

I rode to White Cliffs and back. Harley, camera, sketchbook, ink.

The desert surprises. This time it was the rain, the green. Waking in the swag to a mist rolling across the plains, thick, and there's nothing to do but wait and take it in.

Out there, two hundred and fifty kilometres between fuel stops on the 90’s softail. You commit to the line before you can see where it goes, and you ride it. Brave and adaptable in the same breath. It feels dangerous right up until it feels alive. Which turns out to be the same feeling read two ways.

This is the reason I keep going back? Just when I thought I had the desert sorted, it shows me up. The moment I decided I knew it, it surprises. Love.

That's the edge. Not a place you reach or control. A state. It's wherever the work is still surprising you, still dangerous, still original. The second you think you've seen this before, you've stepped back to safe.

I’m an artist and a brand director. Somewhere between Ivanhoe and Wilcannia enjoying the silence of a ghost cypress grove I sketched out a hit list (refined into a workbook back here in the studio). 10 things I've learned the hard way about building brands. Free to read.

New art heating up the studio too. Broken Gold!