The “Clean-Up Routine” That’s Actually Just Me Moving Piles Around

 "Studio Habits I Pretend Are Normal — Episode 2"

There’s a ritual I perform in the studio that I call “cleaning,” but if we’re being honest, it’s really just "strategic pile relocation".

It starts innocently enough. I look around and think, "Okay, today’s the day. I’m going to get this place under control." I roll up my sleeves, take a deep breath, and then… I begin migrating objects like a confused migrating bird.

Brushes go from the table to the cart.  

Sketchbooks go from the cart to the shelf.  

Loose papers go from the shelf to a drawer.  

And that drawer?  

Well, that drawer is already full, so everything in it gets moved to a “temporary spot” on the other side of the room.

By the time I’m done, the studio looks different — not cleaner, just… rearranged. The clutter has been redistributed like a weird artistic ecosystem. Nothing is actually gone. It’s just living somewhere new.

And the funniest part?  

I always feel "accomplished" afterward. I stand there, hands on hips, surveying my work like I’ve just completed a full renovation. The studio has a fresh energy, even though every single object is still present and accounted for — just in a new zip code.

But here’s the truth I’ve made peace with:  

This ritual isn’t about achieving perfection. It’s about resetting the space just enough to trick my brain into feeling ready to create again. It’s a psychological sweep, not a physical one.

And honestly?  

If moving piles around keeps the inspiration flowing, then I’m calling it a legitimate cleaning method.

Even if the piles come back tomorrow.  

And they will.

If you would like to see what I create after this "Clean Up" routine, checkout my artwork on my official website

Disclaimer: When you buy something via my affiliate links I earn from qualifying purchases and sometimes earn a commission, at no extra cost to you. I am an Amazon Associate among others. I only recommend trusted sites.

The Art Supply I Keep Buying Even Though I Don’t Need It

 

Episode 1 of my new series "Studio Habits I Pretend Are Normal".

There’s a moment — right before I click “Add to Cart” — when I swear I can hear a tiny voice whisper, "Jay… you already have twelve of those." 

But does that stop me?  

Absolutely not.

I have a weakness, and its name is "paint brushes".

Not the fancy, heirloom ones. Not the rare sable brushes that cost more than a car payment. No — I’m talking about the everyday workhorses. The flats, the filberts, the rounds, the angled shaders, the ones that promise “crisp edges” or “smooth blends” or “revolutionary synthetic fibers.” Every time I see a new one, I convince myself it’s going to unlock some hidden artistic superpower.

And then there are the brush holders.  

Why do I keep buying brush holders?  

I have holders for clean brushes, holders for dirty brushes, holders that spin, holders that stand, holders that fold, holders that look like tiny canvas toolboxes. I even have one that clips onto the side of a table like some kind of studio koala.

The truth is that I don’t buy brushes because I need them.  

I buy them because they feel like possibility.

A new brush is a tiny promise — that maybe tomorrow’s painting will flow easier, or the next idea will land just right, or I’ll finally nail that perfect edge I’ve been chasing for years. Brushes are hope disguised as hardware.

And honestly?  

I’m okay with that.

Because every time I pick up a new brush, even one I absolutely didn’t need, it reminds me why I love this work: the thrill of trying something new, the joy of small tools that make big magic, and the quiet belief that the next stroke might surprise me.

So yes — I’ll probably buy another brush next week.  

And maybe another holder.  

And maybe one more after that.

But if that’s my worst habit as an artist, I think I’m doing just fine.

If you would like to see what I create with my obsession to paint brushes, checkout the paintings on my official website.

Which art supplies do you keep stocking up on?

Disclaimer: When you buy something via my affiliate links I earn from qualifying purchases and sometimes earn a commission, at no extra cost to you. I am an Amazon Associate among others. I only recommend trusted sites.

Sunlit Ocean Horizon — A Morning That Stayed with Me

 
There are certain mornings along the Florida coast that don’t just pass to night — they stay with you. I almost walked past this beautiful scene on Melbourne Beach, but the light caught the waves and wet sand in a way that stopped me for 20 minutes. "Atlantic Daybreak" was born on one of those quiet, golden moments when the Atlantic feels less like a body of water and more like a living, breathing presence.

I was walking along Melbourne Beach just as the first light began to break. The horizon was still cool and muted, but the sun was already working its way through a gathering of towering clouds. They weren’t dramatic in a stormy way — more like gentle gates opening to let the day in. As the light spilled through, it touched the surface of the water in thin, shimmering ribbons, each one dancing toward shore. Those soft reflections are what first caught my eye, and I knew I had to capture them before they vanished into full daylight.

There’s a rhythm to mornings like this — the slow roll of surf, the hush of wind, the quiet anticipation of a coastline waking up. In that stillness, the ocean becomes a mirror for the sky, and the sky becomes a storyteller. The warm highlights along the horizon felt almost like a whisper.

When I look at "Sunlit Ocean Horizon" now, I see more than a sunrise. I see movement, atmosphere, and the kind of coastal light that makes you pause without realizing you’ve stopped (Just like I did for 20 minutes). It’s a moment suspended between night and day — peaceful, luminous, and deeply grounding. The kind of scene that fits effortlessly into a modern interior or a coastal home because it carries that natural calm people crave. A reminder of the quiet magic that happens when the world is still and the sky decides to open.

This photograph is part of my ongoing love letter to Florida’s shores — the east coast mornings, the Tampa Bay Gulf’s warm glow at sunset, the skies that never repeat themselves. Every sunrise here feels like a new conversation, and this one was particularly generous.

If you’ve ever stood at the edge of the ocean and felt that first touch of sunlight, I hope this piece brings that same feeling into your space — a gentle breath of calm, a horizon full of promise, and the unmistakable mood of a Florida morning unfolding right in front of you.

If you’d like to see the full piece, explore print options, or leave a comment, you can find “Atlantic Daybreak” in the Gallery on my Official Website. 

Checkout more Beach Photos

Crown of the Fuente — A Creative Photograph Rooted in Legacy and Craft

 There are certain objects that don’t just sit quietly in the world — they "announce" themselves. They carry weight, memory, craftsmanship, and a kind of cultural gravity. For me, the Arturo Fuente cigar label has always been one of those objects. It’s more than a decorative crest. It’s a symbol of tradition, artistry, and the kind of meticulous care that feels almost rare in the modern world.

That’s what drew me to create “Crown of the Fuente,” my photographic interpretation of this iconic label.

I didn’t want to simply document it. I wanted to "translate" it — to pull forward the textures, the gold leaf shimmer, the ornate flourishes, and the quiet pride embedded in its design. I wanted to show the label the way I see it: as a small piece of living history.

A Label That Tells a Story Before You Even Light the Cigar

The Fuente crest is a world unto itself. The lions, the shield, the tropical motifs, the deep reds and golds — it’s a visual language of heritage. When you look closely, you can almost feel the hands that shaped the brand over generations.

The Fuente family’s story begins in 1912, when Arturo Fuente — a Cuban immigrant with a dream and a talent — started rolling cigars by hand in his West Tampa home. His dedication to quality built a reputation that survived the Great Depression, fires, embargoes, and every challenge a century can throw at a family business. Today, the Fuente name is synonymous with craftsmanship, consistency, and tradition, carried forward by the generations that followed him.

That legacy is part of what makes the label so compelling. It’s not just a design. It’s a declaration.

 My Artistic Approach — Photographing a Legacy

When I set out to photograph the label, I wanted to honor that declaration.

I leaned into my signature vintage‑distressed aesthetic — the kind of textured, atmospheric style that feels like it could have been pulled from a cigar lounge in the 1950s or a collector’s cabinet in Havana. I played with light to make the gold accents glow like embers. I emphasized the fine details that often go unnoticed: the micro‑patterns, the layered borders, the subtle imperfections that make handcrafted art feel alive.

The result is a portrait of the label that feels both classic and contemporary — a bridge between the past and the present.

Why This Piece Matters to Me

As a Florida artist, there’s something special about creating work tied to a brand that began right here in West Tampa. The Fuente legacy is part of our regional story — a reminder of the immigrant craftsmanship that shaped so much of Florida’s cultural identity.

This photograph is my way of celebrating that heritage. It’s a nod to the artistry behind the cigars, the pride behind the brand, and the timeless appeal of objects made with intention.

Where “Crown of the Fuente” Belongs

This piece was created with collectors in mind — especially those who appreciate cigar culture, vintage Americana, and richly detailed artwork. It fits beautifully in:

- cigar lounges  

- home bars  

- man caves  

- vintage‑themed décor spaces  

- offices with a classic or masculine aesthetic  

- Florida heritage homes  

It’s a conversation piece — the kind of artwork people lean in to examine.

Explore the Artwork

If you’d like to see the full piece, explore print options, or leave a comment, you can find “Crown of the Fuente” in my Fine Art America gallery. I’d love to hear what memories or stories this label evokes for you.

Art is always a conversation — and this one begins with a crown, a legacy, and a photograph that tries to honor both.

Checkout more vintage cigar photos

Welcome to Stories from the Studio

 Every artist has a place where ideas first take shape — a quiet corner, a cluttered workbench, a patch of sunlight across the floor. For me, that place is my Florida studio, where light, texture, and memory come together in ways I never fully expect. This blog is my way of opening that door and letting you step inside.

Stories From the Studio is where I’ll share the moments behind the art — the spark that starts a photograph, the history tucked inside a vintage object, the atmosphere that guides a composition, and the small details that make a piece feel alive. Some posts will be about the craft itself. Others will be about the stories that rise up while I’m working: the heritage behind a cigar label, the nostalgia of classic Americana, the quiet poetry of everyday objects.

I’ve always believed that art is more than the final image. It’s the journey, the intention, the memory, and the meaning woven into it. This space will be a home for all of that.

Whether you’re a collector, a fellow artist, or someone who simply enjoys the blend of story and craft, I’m glad you’re here. I hope these posts bring you closer to the work, closer to the process, and maybe even closer to your own creative spark.

Welcome to the studio. Let’s begin.