Molly and I have been working on a book. It’s about our land and our projects. The whole ten-year, ten-acre arc, from the early desires and our hunt for property, to building it out with friends, seeing it burn down, and the rebuilding and reexamination that followed. Lots of pictures and illustrations. But a ton of writing as well. More than 20,000 words—roughly The Old Man and the Sea, if Hemingway had thought to pad his novel with 200+ photos.
It’s turned into a really good book. I’m quite proud of it. And those familiar with my self-flagellating style of creativity know that’s not something I say easily.
Quick aside: This is a one-time print run, and it would really help to have some sense of how many of these we’re producing. Take a look and weigh in.
Most of the time spent working on the book we didn’t mention the project to anyone. It was barely an idea when we started last August. Then a low-grade tinker. But even once it caught steam, we still kept quiet.
I’m of the mind that talking about a project can steal energy from a project. Writing in particular. Not sure if it’s still the case in this short-form TikTok world, but historically the declaration of “I’m writing a book” has held some cachet. It feels good to announce, and the fact that it’s underway is nearly an accomplishment in and of itself. There’s a little dopamine hit upon utterance, and then one more washes over the bow when the person on the other end of the conversation replies, “Oh gosh, that’s so exciting!” So I (and Molly) have steered away from those micro-rewards to focus our energy on the finish line.
But, at some point, that dynamic grows impractically disingenuous. As the project has become a lot more real, it’s turned into basically the only thing I’ve been working on. Hours and hours, every day, for months. If you’ve wondered why I’ve been writing less about building and projects (and I know some of you have), this is why.
Not so long ago I was hanging out with Maddie and she asked how I had spent my past week. I clocked my squirming as I walled off and lied that I’d done nothing, absolutely nothing at all, the past seven days.
I realized afterward that maybe things had gone too far. It’s one thing to be conscious of temptation and mindful of how those dopamine-droplets might cheat progress. But it’s something else to fully lie about how I’m spending my time and clam up to the point of neutering a conversation (and by extension, a relationship). In light of those thoughts, Molly and I scraped the tinfoil off our windows and eased off the secrecy.
So... Molly and I have been working on this book! It’s always bugged us that the record of such an impactful decade is scattered across nearly 10,000 photos and videos, and so many articles and blog posts and anecdotes and other people’s books. There’s long been a temptation to hold a singular archive in our hand that encapsulates the whole endeavor, and last year we finally imagined a version of that book—that story—which felt worthy of pursuing. Both as an object we would be proud to put on our own shelf, and something that we think others would find deep value in as well.
The writing is basically done, the photos are largely selected, and most (though certainly not all) of the countless micro-decisions that go into creating a thoughtful product are made. Within a month or so we’ll run the Kickstarter, figure out how many to print, and hopefully see it through to the finish line. A couple months after that they’ll be in hand and that’ll be a wrap on the project, nearly a year after it kicked off in earnest.
Below is a video I made for the Kickstarter. I guess you’d call this a book trailer. But “trailer” implies a punchy clip that’s trying hard to sell the book. That’s not me and this isn’t that.
This is a ~5-minute video that starts on our very first day on the land and traces moments through the next ten years of beauty and growth, destruction, and re-exploration. Like the book, this hasn’t really existed before. I’ve made some videos of various projects, but it’s a story that’s fractured. This video is much more encompassing of the whole arc. Though, of course it’s also cramming a full decade into fewer than six minutes, so it’s a pretty condensed… but still, it’s something. Give it a watch!
Back in October I announced our Spring artist residency. It’s still happening. Jenny Odell will be kicking it off in a couple months.
Applications are open for the Fall 2026 residency. Here’s some details and where you can apply.
Start with these posts on Project Planning and Construction Basics.
Or these posts on Community Building.
Or browse. Posts wander from friendship, to workshops, to tools, to explosives. Because we contain multitudes.
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