MAKING
This week, I finished a tiny but mighty five-panel mini booklet called Print You Hold On To. It clocks in at 4.25" x 2.5", just over the size of a standard business card. It’s part calling card, part brochure, part manifesto.
It’s bound using a 3-hole stab stitch with covers made from Japanese Chiyogami Yuzen paper and interior pages printed on vintage Neenah Eames Diffused Architecture 50# text.
Inside, it holds the essence of Makeist:
what I believe about print,
who I love working with,
what we can make together,
and how great print design isn’t just something you look at—it’s something you hold on to.
I made this piece to hand out in person or send as a follow-up to conversations. It’s a physical manifestation of what Makeist stands for: design that’s tactile, intentional, and made to keep.
LOVING
This week I attended an IACP webinar with wife duo Lish Steiling and Abbey Cook—aka —a conversation about creativity, color, and behind-the-scenes insights into self-publishing. They shared their collaborative process, how personal style shapes their creative choices, and the story behind their Palate Palette cookbook series.
I had already ordered the full cookbook set—Yellow, Red, and Purple—and it arrived the very next day, just after the webinar. It was everything they described: three color-saturated, design-forward cookbooks featuring foil stamping, rich color cardstock, a hidden spiral binding, recipes, color stories, and gorgeous photos.
They’re exactly the kind of bespoke printed objects I want on my shelf: limited-edition, independently produced, and infused with personality.
It’s not just that they’re beautiful (they are).
It’s that they’re filled with care, collaboration, and clarity of vision.
They’re print you hold on to—in every sense.
💛 ❤️ 💜
(above) Palate Palette Cookbook Set: Yellow, Red, and Purple
THINKING
I’ve been reading ’s We Need Your Art and Seth Godin’s The Icarus Deception in tandem. Both offer a similar message: make art.*
Stylistically, they’re different, but what I like about both is their tone. It’s not the You can do this! rah-rah kind of way, but more of a You must do this kind of message—for yourself, for your community, for society.
One of Amie’s chapters tackles the dreaded procrastination. We all do it. And we all beat ourselves up about it. She encourages you to give yourself grace, accept that it’s simply part of the creative process, and to go so far as to write yourself a letter, not to scold but to forgive.
I feel like I’ve been procrastinating for years. That’s a loooong time to be berating myself. Here’s me kind of being kind to myself:
Dear, dear me—past (and future) procrastinator,
I forgive you—I really do. I know that you feel guilty (and regretful, and ashamed, and mad). You think you wasted so much time. But you didn’t.
Really, seriously—I am not blowing smoke up your ass. You were building—no, you were growing. You were creating a mycelium network behind the scenes, under the scenes. Hidden, but powerful. No effort was wasted. Everything was put to use.
When you picture a mushroom, you only think of the fruiting body—the part you can see. But the coolest part of fungi is its vast, interconnected, collaborative web underground. That’s what you’ve been doing when you thought you were procrastinating, wasting time, being “lazy.”
Turns out, you’ve actually been working on this the whole time.
*And by “art,” I mean anything you bring into existence from nothing—not just the obvious stuff like painting, music, or poetry.
Wow, thanks for sharing our cookbook series! We are beyond flattered and can't thank you enough for your kind words and support. Happy you appreciate all the design details too :) Thank you!