A true Gentleman.

You know, that phrase is so wrought with baggage.

One of my favorite authors, C.S. Lewis, speaks of a gentleman. And I can't hear that word and not think about this:
The word gentleman originally meant something recognisable; one who had a coat of arms and some landed property. When you called someone "a gentleman" you were not paying him a compliment, but merely stating a fact. If you said he was not "a gentleman" you were not insulting him, but giving information. There was no contradiction in saying that John was a liar and a gentleman; any more than there now is in saying that James is a fool and an M.A. But then there came people who said - so rightly, charitably, spiritually, sensitively, so anything but usefully - "Ah but surely the important thing about a gentleman is not the coat of arms and the land, but the behaviour? Surely he is the true gentleman who behaves as a gentleman should? Surely in that sense Edward is far more truly a gentleman than John?" They meant well. To be honourable and courteous and brave is of course a far better thing than to have a coat of arms. But it is not the same thing. Worse still, it is not a thing everyone will agree about. To call a man "a gentleman" in this new, refined sense, becomes, in fact, not a way of giving information about him, but a way of praising him: to deny that he is "a gentleman" becomes simply a way of insulting him. When a word ceases to be a term of description and becomes merely a term of praise, it no longer tells you facts about the object: it only tells you about the speaker's attitude to that object. (A 'nice' meal only means a meal the speaker likes.) A gentleman, once it has been spiritualised and refined out of its old coarse, objective sense, means hardly more than a man whom the speaker likes. As a result, gentleman is now a useless word. We had lots of terms of approval already, so it was not needed for that use; on the other hand if anyone (say, in a historical work) wants to use it in its old sense, he cannot do so without explanations. It has been spoiled for that purpose.

So, apart from my baggage, I think I myself know a gentleman. Now, I've not met him yet, but I think I can get behind just about everything he's into:

I am Ryan, A 25-year-old, A leader of worship, A writer, A musician, A poet, A sinner daily saved by mysterious Grace, A perpetual laugher, A pipe smoker, A bird hunter, A baseball fan (Go Bravo), A native son of Alabama(Roll Tide), A Southerner; through and through, A bow-tie wearer, A proponent of erudition (not to be confused with pretension), A scotch man (Neat, please), A bit old-fashioned, A Theodore Roosevelt admirer, A self-described romantic, A loyal fan (Go Chiefs), A terrible golfer, A proud Star Wars nerd, A backpacker, A sucker for red-velvet cake, A sucker for red-heads.

If it weren't for the age (cruel time!) and my wife not being ginger, I'd think we're the same guy.

Well, Ryan has a great journal and wrote just about the nicest writeup we could ever imagine on us, and we're just real flattered going into the first weekend of October.

We doff our hats to gentleman like this one, and hope to meet many more in the future.

At Home in Huntsville.

Man oh man. There's a whole writeup over on A Lovely Avenue about this Belle who lives in Huntsville and got herself a yellowhammer. I love it. I bet she isn't seven miles from where my family lives.


A gloomy day with warm light.

I've got some good friends in NYC & Brooklyn who have a band.

Their band is called Pacific Theater and they on on Whaleheart. I'm close to the cause as I did Whaleheart's logo and have done some art for pacific Theater. So I know them pretty so good.

But I really know the bassist cause he's a Southerner. He is from Atlanta and was in a band years ago with my best friend and best man from Alabama. They both had the name Daniel and they were in the band with two other guys named Daniel. I kid you not. Both the guys in the pictures are Daniel. And I like they didn't call themselves The Daniels.

Well, at any rate, Pacific Theater just put out a new album called Warm Light and you can listen to the whole thing now on Soundcloud.

And on a gloomy day like today in Boston, there's nothing like some new music to make the time pass.



We have a friend here in Boston who I'd worked with on some projects for the Boston Faith and Justice Network.

Well, when we starting selling wares a few months ago, my friend got real excited and then got in touch with about everyone he knows. And one of those people he knows is Bridget of Tales of Me and the Husband.

Oh. Man. You've go to go read her blog. She has a really amazing story. Heartbreaking and redeeming all at once. So, so good.

At any rate, she's a kind soul who offered to let us sponsor her blog one month. And that sposorship includes giving away a free print.

So, to recap: Kind soul. FREE PRINT.

Go read her blog. Give her hits (get her over a million, she's dang close). Enter her contest on the, I dunno, 18th of October, and win yourself a free Old Try print. Yeah. Do it.

At Home in Nashville.

“Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.” - Proverbs 22:6

At Home in Seattle.

Our friends from Gigantic Squid (sent us a snap of their Bull City, getting prime billing, in their Seattle living room.


My momma taught about a big ego.

But sometimes you can't help it.

We made the Boston Egoist today. The industry (advertising) blog of note up here in there parts. But heck, it's even bigger than that. It's all over the place.

So forgive us for having swollen egos for the next 15-35 minutes.

But you know what they say: It's hard to be humble when you're from Alabama.

Man of letters.

There's a backhoe in my neighborhood, and I don't know what it is doing there.

Well, that's misleading. I know what it's doing. It's digging out a driveway. Or adding stones for one. Or something.

And it's pinstriped and lettered and so tastefully done. Why the heck would anyone need to hand letter up a backhoe?

They don't. And that's what makes it brilliant.

Care about something. Add details to it for nobody other than yourself. And then others will care.

So yeah. I reckon his tractor is sexy.


Camping in a backyard in Maine.

We headed up to Maine on Saturday for the 2nd annual Miller Family Campout.

The Millers are the family we want to be: a picture of faith and love and commitment and sacrifice and family and beauty and talent and just right. They have been married 35 years, have three amazingly talented / successful children, and a lab golden retriever named Oliver that will make even the hardest of hearts melt. I want to adopt the family.

And seeing as how our families are over a days drive South, it's nice to be able to get in a car and see a family unit that works. One that opens up there doors to neighbors and friends, and who all still go to church together when the kids are in town.

So there were a dozen or so folks, up in Maine, sitting around the campfire, singing and listening and laughing into the early morning hours.

Go give Pete Miller a listen. He's got a real honest voice. And he's one hell of a guy.


To Dixie With Love.

Our shirts are now available!

In Blue or Grey. XS-XXL. Cause we know there are both small and big ole boys down South.

Wearing mine now. Watching Ole Miss implode on the goal-line.


In the works.

Got a couple of prints I comped up last night, to see how they'd look on paper (on screen).

A Ft. Moultrie flag and a flag of Tennessee rendition (which you could hang horizontal or vertical - depending on your mood, attitude, sunny disposition or overall housing scheme).

Hopefully y'all like them.

We're going to start inking the S. Car. soon.



We were flattered last week to find a post written up about us from some folks over in Surrey in the UK.

They are called BiroRobot and they make delightful illustrations and print from their brains all the way to paper. They were starting up at the same time as us and were so kind just to write about us. Man. Crazy.

As Marianna spent time working in London after getting her letters and studied abroad in England in college (and her sister in in NYC) these prints hit us close to the heart. Maybe they don't take us home, but they sure scratch that itch for places we hold dear.

Folks making things to hang on walls that take you home. We can get behind that.


Proof of Concept.

Got in some proofs of our shirts today from Atlanta. They smelled like fall in the South and look just as good. A few more tweeks and one can be yours.

On Frito Pies.

There is nothing quite as right as a Frito Pie. We ate them growing up all the time.

‘Momma, what’s for dinner?’

‘Get you a bag of them Fritos, and make yourself somethin.’

I think we had them a lot cause my Pops is from Oklahoma. Wikipedia tells me they are all the rage out there, too. I’d have to have some Okies confirm that for me, but I know that in Athens they were eaten about 23 weeks of the year.

But you just can’t find Frito pies up in this neck of the woods. There’s a place called Mike and Patty’s over in Bay Village that has an off menu Frito Pie. I went and asked for it one day, but they were out of chips. And chili.

And one great night in Brooklyn I found one at The Levee. And it was midnight. And it went down with a Lone Star. And it was the finest I'd had in a long while.

So I keep my eye out when I’m hungry. And on cold nights like last night, we crank up the chili, pop open the corn chips, drown them in cheese and go to town. 


The Old Dominion.

We're going to start selling this beaut tomorrow.

Get your order in if you dig on the Dominion. Only 98 left.


You tell em, Houston Dale Nutt, Jr.

Working on a Saturday is amazing when your game is being broadcast, PIP style, on the desktop. I sure am glad the SEC and ESPN signed a zillion-billion dollar deal to film just about every game and broadcast them on the internet.

It's now actually easier to watch the Rebs than it was when we lived in NC.

I hope your Saturday is just as right.


On dressing.

I wear suits on Fridays. Or, if not suits, at least a tie. I do it for several reasons:

1) I'm a grown ass man
2)  who wants to be taken as a grownup
3) who also reads GQ, and sometimes want to dress like it.

I started three years ago, and haven't missed it save days I've been on the road (See: Texas, shooting in). Even earlier this year when it was 103°. Still rocked the bow. I even have some proof from my Facebook profile pics.

Well, I go to a place called 9Tailors here to get custom shirts and suits made. I've been a  couple of times, for a shirt and for a suit. And I've also got a blazer and another shirt from them. Good folks. Local. Though they do have the initial tailoring of their fabrics (British-made, some of em) done in the CEO's home of Hong Kong.

And they asked if I'd be in the shoot for their new look book. And I thought, yes, howabout a seersucker and they said it's a fall shoot and then I said three piece tweed, please, and then that happened. And they put me on their blog.

Yeah, that's right. An Ole Miss lining.

Today at the office there is a Hawaiian shirt day. If you wear a shirt with flowers, you get a free Mai Tai. Well, I'm fighting it, tooth and nail. I told anyone who wears a suit I'd give a shot of whiskey. And it looks like at least five gentlemen are going to take me up this evening.


A month.

Well, it's been a month since we started selling.

And to cap off a great 30 days Mr. Reed of A Trip Down South wrote up a nice post on us. Go there if you'd like to see some more sneak peeks of what we're working on / where we're working on it.

And, while I'm not one to reminisce so soon, I'm going to tell you we've had one heck of a month.

The best part is the support we've gotten from folks.

Below are excepts of some emails we've gotten that can just warm a heart up.

We thank you all & we mean it.

“I stumbled upon your store and I thank God for y'all.”

“Love the prints!! Simple. Charming. Unique. (The South in three words :)”

“Haven't heard this since Emory in late 60's:
Hotty toddy god almighty who the he'll are we?  Flim flam by damn we're the SAE's...
Best wishes.   Keep up the good work.”

“I love what you're doing, and based on your blog I feel like we would be friends if I lived in Boston and not NYC (is that weird to say?).”

“Y'all do beautiful work. My favorite part of your website? View Buggy.”

“Just wanted to say how excited I am to find your website!  (And to order a yellow hammer print to remind me of home and taunt my friends in Texas, which isn't actually "the south.")”

“It would nearly make my heart sweel & burst if y'all made a Texas print one of these days. I left the Lone Star for work in Seattle and miss my South more than words can express - it truly is what I dream about at night.

“Thankful I found y'all - it was love at first sight.”

“Being a diehard Southerner, with family from the oldest Virginia days, I absolutely LOVE your prints!”


A stable for our horses.

We are about 0% towards being anyplace close to being able to even then discuss opening a retail outlet.

But, were we to dream, we'd dream of this place.

It's at 220 Clarendon St, in Boston, right by Copley. And it was a former horse stable back in the day (which appears to have been thousands of years ago). And then, in happier times before the Fall, it was a men's clothing store that was digested by the recession which got rid of a number of Boston's men who could afford to shop there. And I hear that in fifteen minutes it's going to be a chocolate shop.

But in the meantime, it's in my head as a lovely place to smoke a pipe, tell a yarn, and stock some prints.

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We're huge in the UK.

A mention found this morning all the way over in the UK,

We'd like to thank the Queen.


“Whiskey and beer are all right in their place. But their place is in hell.” -Billy Sunday, in his famous sermon in Boston

Just started a book called Spirits of Just Men. It's a history of White Lightening, moonshine, and the scallywags who helped give the gov'ment fits in the 30s. 

I don't know if it's a good read yet, too early to tell (started it on the train this morning), but had to share the quote. Some of that old time religion will do a soul right.

So let's toast to the teetotalers. Here's to you, Rutherford B. Hayes. 



I'm uncertain if my local postal lady intimidates me or infuriates me.

Now, my momma would get onto me if she heard me badmouthing anyone, regardless of it they deserved it or not.

So, I'm not going to mention names or anything. Just know that on the mornings I don't feel like dealing with that lady your tubes get to come along with me on my commute into the city.

Which is why you might see a Boston postmark rather than an Arlington postmark.

Consider the Arlington mark a collector's edition. 

These tubes here are going to Mr. King of Richmond and Mr. Murphree of Nashville. So here are the first 8 miles of your prints' journey, boys.


Printing VA.

Working on it. Should have something within a week. Get excited.

It pays to be selective.

Thanks to a friend of a friend, we're on the front page of Selectism today.

Big thanks to the good folks at Hovercraft out in Portland, OR for the connection. And of course, to the nice gentleman at Selectism. 

What a way to go into the weekend.

Now a little college ball, week #2, and whatever else we find ourselves getting into with family on a plane into town.


Printing a thousand words a minute.

We've figured out a better shipping solution.

If you are a business, look at Endicia for Mac. It's pretty sweet.

Gone are the good old days of waiting in line at the post. It's all printing from a supersonic thermal printer with confirmation numbers and all of that.

Design is limited, but what're'ya'gon'do?