JOY FARM IS
an open studio where art, bread, conversation, and community come together. Located off the coast of Maine (USA), each visitor brings a gift — a workshop, a song, a skill — and in return receives space, stillness, and belonging.
Interested in residency at JOY FARM? Contact me today.
The project survives on your generosity and shared care.
Your contribution, however small, keeps the door open
for the next traveler.
Your first opportunity to show support is to make a donation now. In return for a $50 donation, you'll receive a gift: a limited edition print of my poster, aptly named "JOY FARM". ($100 or more and you'll receive
the print and a chance to win the original!
Isleford, Maine USA is indigenous land. Called Pesamkuk by the indigenous people of the Wabanaki, Joy Farm supports sovereign governance for these nations.
gross, I don't sound like that.
I Told ChatGPT Everything on My Mind While I Was High — Including the Title of This Blog — and Asked It to Write the Post
Nov 2, 2025
I didn’t plan to write today. I just meant to stack some wood, breathe a little, maybe find a rhythm. But I got a little high, and instead of fighting the flood of thoughts, I opened ChatGPT and started talking. About turning fifty, about heaven and hell, about the strange relief of feeling like I’ve finally arrived. What came out was less confession than realization: that somewhere between the chaos of my past and the quiet of Maine, I’ve stepped into a kind of peace I didn’t know existed.
When I found Mount Desert Island and, eventually, Joy Farm, I think I found the version of heaven available to the living. My life has been difficult, but not because of tragedy — more because of the way our culture mistakes noise for purpose. Greed, ego, avoidance, generational pain — those are the devils that shaped my earlier years. Here, surrounded by sea and pine, I can finally see them for what they were: lessons. I’m not running from them anymore. I’m composting them into soil.
This new chapter feels like starting over, except I’m bringing all the old selves along. I’ve stopped trying to escape who I’ve been. I’ve stopped apologizing for being different, intense, or too reflective. The world calls that eccentricity; I call it awareness. I’ve discovered that being alive doesn’t require proving anything — it only asks that I keep showing up with open eyes, ready to feel and forgive again.
Even the work is different now. Stacking wood isn’t just hard labor; it’s a conversation between my body and the earth. I used to live entirely in my mind, but this place is teaching me the holiness of sweat and weight. My body isn’t a burden — it’s the vessel through which joy gets expressed. Hard work isn’t about hustle or worthiness; it’s about rhythm, presence, and gratitude.
So that’s where I’m at: somewhere between breath and bark, laughter and legacy. I don’t know what’s next, but I no longer need to. Balance, not perfection, is the measure now. Each day I spend here feels like another chance to live the way I was meant to — rooted, awake, and willing to fill the space with love.
SOFT (OP)ENING
The right way to do things is the softest and most vulnerable.
Oct 29, 2025
I'm convinced of it. The more I learn about what works for me, the more I realize that we come into this place with everything we need and are taught we need more. And then, we spend the majority of our time unlearning those false lessons.
Yesterday, I put the OPEN STUDIO sign out for the first time. I wasn't sure if it was the right time. I hardly have anywhere for guests to sit, frankly. Yet I felt that familiar fear that I was taking a good risk, so I went ahead with the plan.
I painted for a few hours with no visitors, but it hardly mattered. The house felt open and welcoming and right.
I am so very grateful for this opportunity. Thank you so much to the folks who have made donations or sent their well wishes. If nothing else, I hope this will help a small piece of the world recognize the strength inherent in getting softer.
EVERYTHING IN IT's right place
"There" is no better than "Here".
Oct 31, 2025
Yesterday I found myself twice talking about the Sanskrit rules for being human. And the one that I found important for me is this notion that place isn't as important as we make it out to be.
I've said several times that place is an integral part of my story, and of my art. Those closest to me know that I'm sort of a fanatic for Pearl Jam, and one of the songs I've always felt very close to is Gone. The spirit of the song is that sometimes you need to leave a place to open a doorway to a new you, and that has been my story (in this life, at least) on many occasions. I left Pennsylvania twice, both times to figure out who I am and what I want.
Arriving in Islesford two weeks ago felt like another portal, but the more I think about it, the more it isn't. It's the same place I've always been -- the same moment I've always been -- in. It's here. IYKYK.
As I settle, dare to put down the tiniest of roots, and start to practice the life I've always wanted; I'm reminded that we are all acting. No change in behavior comes without trying the new behavior on for size. No transformation comes without playing a new part. As so many of us do, I often subconsciously worry about those (from my "old" life) who will say "You've changed!"
Of course I (we) have. Change is synonymous with growth. Let's grow.
beginning
I'm sitting at my laptop with a cup of coffee while I wait for the fresh loaf of bread to come out of the oven.
I've dreamed about this place for so long, mostly as a substitute for the safe space my inner child never had. But now it's a reality and I am feeling very blessed. It's October 28, 2025 and there is a crispness to the Maine air this morning. The windows of this old house are frosted over and thawing. Olive (the de facto farm cat) is not yet out of bed, preferring to curl up where my body was warm.
I recently saw a friend post some kind of statement like "my favorite artists are those who make an art project of their lives". I didn't know that other people thought of it that way. But that's what I'm starting here, isn't it?
Lately I've explained the vision for JOY FARM with this rant: "There should be just one place in this entire world, one single location where you're not in anyone's way, where you can go to make art (or do whatever feeds your joy) and not worry about making money. It's obviously the plight we deal with as artists. I've not considered myself a full-time artist for very long but it's still apparent that what keeps us (human beings) from focusing on what we are really passionate about and good at is the belief that we need to chase the carrot.
Most of you who find this page on the internet will be familiar with the Japanese term Ikigai. I'm obviously not of Japanese heritage, but I've long understood that I'd need to arrive at my own Ikigai (including the need to create that space for others) in order to feel truly content. Well, here we are. Let's begin.