Ventress Hall,1889. University of Mississippi.
Next Friday I get my own Ole Miss homecoming! This beauty is for sale at @graduateoxford and we're doing a pull your own letterpress print with another design. Come see me on the 20th from 4-6 at Graduate. (Word is @bulleit is going to be pouring right next to me so no excuses for not coming.) 🥃🔴🔵🦈
We teamed up with NC's handsomest bicycle outfitters to make this rad print. You can score one on our site or head to @ridgesupply's Cedar Point headquarters. Or swing by my boy's room. His middle name is Stokes and he loves this with every bit of his five month old heart. #shakethedust
Hellfire and brimstone might work for some, but the Gospel of grace is what I think draws heathens near. I was in New Orleans with a friend, chatting into the sunrise on a Sunday morning. As we left the bar and passed churchgoers, smelling of booze and the night, I asked my friend if we should feel ashamed. “No sir,” he replied. “Jesus loves me, and I love me some Jesus.”
66-3. That was so painful to watch I went to bed at half time. I love my Rebs, but daggum. Figured it was as good a time as any to remind y'all of this great print we did with @scotsman.co. Roll Tide. Hotty Toddy. Pass the bourbon.
Henry David Thoreau. If you haven't ever had the chance to read (or even better, visit then read) Walden, I'd encourage it. In this ever connected, always on, uber- changing world, I think it is just good medicine. I went to Walden and then read it a sitting by a fire in a cabin because obviously it is only fitting. (Even if I've never read Faulkner in a hunting lodge.) And, if you just happen to be around Boston this weekend, check out the @friendsactonlib 200th birthday party "Celebrating Thoreau." It's put on in part by my good friend @10engines and there'll be cabin building and axe sharpening and local beer because that's just how they roll in Acton. Prost, HDT! #letterboardfridays
I'm Micah – founder and the creative director and the janitor and the cheerleader of Old Try. And your purchase means a hell of a lot to me and that little family you see there. Six years ago I really started missing home, and I wanted to buy something that connected me to where I'm from. I couldn't find the right thing to hang on my wall that told other Bostonians (yeah, we're Northerners now) that I was an Alabamian or an Ole Miss Alumni or that my wife was from North Carolina. So, I started making things. And I started praying that folks might buy them. And some did. And some more did. And then you did. Old Try isn't just a fun side project for me. It's my wife's job and it's my kid's daycare & diaper money and it's part therapy and part public service announcement. It's my way of putting a stamp on a tiny little part of the world. It's my way of dealing with my demons of what being a Southerner is and what being a Christian is and how to use business for good and how to provide for a growing family. I thank you for keeping the lights on.
June, 1896: Tennessee is celebrating their centennial anniversary of admission into the union. At which point somebody (prolly with a decent amount of Jack in them) points out that the state, older than anybody's granddaddy, doesn't yet have a flag. And with speed unseen since, the politicians and designers figured something out and had it flying within ten months. Three bars for the Grand Divisions of state geography, one 16 for the numerical position of the state. Celebration commenced, more Jack. Somehow, the flag disappeared. We've volunteered to bring it back.
"The mountains are calling, and I must go." –John Muir They get us all. Those open spaces. Those places far off the paved road where we come into our own head space. Where we shake off the load we've been carrying and just breathe. Just walk. One foot in front of the other. Straight on into the sunset. If it's been a minute since you've headed that way, we encourage you to get out. Just go.
Back in 1803, when we made the Purchase, Napoleon said, "This accession of territory affirms forever the power of the United States, and I have given England a maritime rival who sooner or later will humble her pride." Fast forward to '95, when 18 year-olds were still able to drink there. (They prolly would've let the fifteen-year-old me.) And they still didn't have counties. And they still spoke different languages. And I ate alligator and I got lost and I got found in the French Quarter. I made it back several times in college, down to the Gulf, and heard stories of the Pelican State by my roommate from Ruston. They're good folks, letting good times roll – rolling with all the punches that the weather and the rest of the country and history throw their way. They are a proud lot. A good lot. With more culture and heart than most of us other Southerners can lay claim to. And she's still humbling England.
There is nothing better. With hope, tomorrow is better than today. With hope, a few minutes from now will be easier than a few minutes ago. The men of South Carolina knew it back in 1776 when they put it on the state's crest. Those were dark days. Lorded over from across the Atlantic. Forced to do things they didn't want to do by folks who didn't give them any say. Battling not only the land and elements, but despair. But they had hope. Hope in a future. Hope in this new land. Hope of things to come. They clung to it. And those South Carolinians haven't let it go yet.
I can't EMT. I can't first respond. I can't bail water. But I sure as hell can print. We're printing these up and sending $30 per print to Harvey relief. Proceeds from the first 50 are going to the Red Cross. The next ones are going to the Houston Food Bank. We've raised $2500 so far because y'all are the good this world needs. Link in bio.
We're helpless, watching that water rise over Texas. But we're not hopeless. We're seeing glimpses of neighbors helping neighbors. Folks driving their boats overnight to unload them on the interstates and go in search of those who need help. All the colors of the rainbow, all the good of humanity, fighting together in the only one that matters. We've made this print in support, with the State of Texas seal on it, and we're going to send $30 from the sale of each one is going to the American Red Cross for Hurricane Harvey relief. Help us help others rise. Link in header.