When I moved to Chicago in 2013, I got a job at a global ad agency. My college friend Andy Gregg was working there already, and he’d been hired by Julian’s old boss Matthew Jacobson (the only way I’ve ever gotten jobs is through the who-ya-know train). Matthew introduced me to our freelance production artist during one of my first days (“you’ll like her, she does ceramics and rides a motorcycle!”) : Amanda Gentry.

Amanda freaking Gentry, one of my most favorite artists and people. Her super power at our agency was the tedious, meticulous minutiae of tightening up brand guidelines and InDesign files, making sure each spot-color gray was labeled and used in only the right instances. In her ceramics studio, her dedication to order and craft burned even brighter: hand-built terra cotta vessels that were so uniform that you’d think they’d been manufactured. But no, each one had been slab- or coil-built, hollowed out with fingertips, wet sanded down and slowly dried to a perfect curve.

In the hours we’d spend in her studio, I’d witnessed that at every point in her process, Amanda would smile really big and say, “this is my favorite part.”

That sentiment cracked me up in the moment, but lately I’ve been pondering it like a prayer.

Because existing is getting harder, I’m having a harder time making art. Maybe you are feeling the squeeze—working, working and every month just squeaking by. I certainly am. I find myself no longer sustained by in the satisfaction of a completed task or a paid invoice, there’s simply no time to bask in that glow if you want to keep the roof over your head. Onto the next prospect.