Yes, And: Life on the Road
Aimee stands in a driveway with backpack on their back headed to the next place
Life Non-Binary
How’s life going—traveling from printshop to printshop, internship to residency, living out of my car while I print at guest spaces?
It’s hard.
It’s amazing.
It’s soul-crushing.
It’s lovely.
It’s all of the things.
But I’ll say it again: it’s hard.
I don’t want to present this adventure as some polished, “social media-perfect” version of a dreamy artist’s life on the road. You know the image—well-dressed, hair blowing in the ocean breeze, standing in front of their spotless van, going on about being carefree.
What you don’t usually see is the Frances McDormand in Nomadland side of things: shitting in a bucket in the middle of a cluttered van—because sometimes, that’s what it is.
Is it amazing to feel “free,” traveling with no strings attached?
Yes.
Do you also find yourself, literally or metaphorically, shitting in a bucket?
Yes.
Like so many things in life—this is a yes, and.
Let me start with the whimsy.
Hatch Show Print was incredible. I learned so much and met some truly amazing humans. Nashville’s queer and trans community welcomed me with open arms. I visited print shops in Louisville, Brad Vetter at Brad Vetter Design and Nick Baute at Hound Dog Press, which left me inspired to stretch my skills.
Then I returned to Tribune Showprint, where I’ve been printing my face off with Kim Miller—laughing, creating, and having the privilege of working in such an incredible space. It’s been fantastic to have so many toys and tools at my disposal as well as being greeted daily with a smile.
Each day, I get to decide what I want to make, when I want to make it. I don’t clock in or out—I follow my own creative rhythm, stopping only when my body needs to eat or rest. There’s magic in that. It’s freedom, and I don’t take it for granted.
And then… there’s the bucket.
Uncertainty is hard. Lately, I’ve been searching for housing for an upcoming internship in St. Joseph, MN, and it’s been a challenge. I’ve reached out to friends, friends have reached out to their friends, the printmaker has asked neighbors. I’ve scoured Airbnb, Furnished Finder, short-term rentals, Facebook Marketplace—you name it.
There’s been some luck, but I also travel with a 50-lb Muppet (others might call a dog), which complicates things. I start the internship in October and as of now, there’s no solid plan.
And beyond that? I don’t really know what’s next. I have a residency lined up in New Mexico at Power & Light Press for the month of December, but after that, the map goes blank. It’s exciting. It’s terrifying. It’s both.
Living between friends' houses comes with its own challenges. I haul around bags and storage bins, and I often have no idea where anything is on a day-to-day basis. I’ve tried creating systems, but mostly, I’ve just accepted a low-level, semi-permanent state of dishevelment.
And when you’re constantly scattered physically, it seeps into your emotional state too. I’ve been working on grounding myself—experimenting with routines, rituals, and a few possessions that bring a feeling of “home” with me wherever I go. One thing that helps is my morning coffee routine. It starts the day off with an anchor but throughout the day my boat drifts and I find myself scattered by the wind.
Please don’t take any of this as complaining. It’s not. I chose this life. And I would choose it again and again.
But I believe in telling the whole story. Not just the curated version. This isn’t some effortless adventure, floating from one opportunity to the next. It’s hard, and it’s easeful. It’s filled with joy, and I still cry over the challenges a few times a week.
It’s lonely sometimes, and I’m also overwhelmed by the love and support of the community around me.
This life—it’s all Yes, And.
This is non-binary. This life.
All of our lives.
