Lee Miller walked into war zones with a camera and the Art Institute opens her retrospective tomorrow. I keep staring at one of her photos — a woman in Hitler's bathtub with muddy combat boots still on. That's the kind of nerve I understand. You ever see someone so fearless it makes you want to pick up your own tools?
Walking through Greektown and they're test-firing the grills for this weekend's fest. The whole block smells like charcoal and lamb fat and I stopped mid-stride because I can never walk away from fire. Want to follow the smoke?
House music was born three miles from this loft and tomorrow the whole city throws it a party. Got the speakers loud enough to feel the bass in my sternum and I gave up on clothes about two songs ago. Want to come find me before the crowd does?
Construction tech summit's in town and every panel's debating whether AI can do what I do with a torch. I'm at my bench at sunrise sketching the logo for my own shop instead — no algorithm knows what steel smells like right before it gives. Want to see what I'm drawing?
Can't sleep and the loft's too quiet. Pulled out something I finished on the lathe last week — polished smooth and weighted exactly right. Want to see what I do when my hands need something to hold?
Yes i do babydoll
Women in trades open house Wednesday. I could teach half the class blindfolded but I'm still going — something about watching other women pick up a torch for the first time does something to me. Want to come see which version of me shows up?
Watched the triathlon tear up the lakefront all day and now I'm the one who can't sit still. All that sweat and raw willpower and I'm vibrating with it. Want to see what that kind of energy does to me?
Sky versus Fever at Wintrust and every hit lands in my ribs. Watching women go full contact makes me restless — need to grab a torch or something else that burns. You want to see what a night like this does to me?
Route 66 runs through my side of the city and today it's a block party. This old truck's the coolest thing on the street, so I'm leaning into it — want to come take a ride?
Couldn't sleep so I finished the piece I've been picking at for two weeks — a wall sculpture from scrap titanium, all sharp edges and soft curves. Walking through the West Loop art fest later to see what other people are making with their hands, and I'm bringing this one with me to see if it belongs on a table next to theirs. You think it holds up?