burn your blog.


Processed with VSCOcam with m1 preset

As it stands, I don’t feel like blogging any more. Don’t fret. If this news comes as a shock to you, perhaps you should read my newest zine, burn your blog. However, I do feel like writing and sketching and connecting with people all over the world. I don’t want to lose that. And who knows – this could just be a phase. In six months time I may be back to Instagraming my every meal and writing three blog posts a week. Let us wait and find out.

I’ve attempted half a dozen snail mail projects. When I first began The Radical Uprise Zine, I offered subscription services (I also ended up losing a lot of money from them). Sometimes select zines could only be obtained through mail-order. The last failed project was The Paper Doll Army. I came to the conclusion that 2013 was full of many ideas, ranging from mediocre to great, poorly initiated.

The past few months I’ve been brainstorming on how to make a successful, tangible world of The Radical Uprise. That’s all I really want. An idea was born, but I’d like to receive feedback before I set the plan in full motion. A beta testing mode will take place. I’m looking for five to ten people who are interested in signing up for a monthly subscription. Lab rats, if you will. This subscription is a re-occuring monthly payment of $11USD through PayPal. You may cancel at any time, but the beta mode will last three months. Your subscription will be terminated after the three month period. 

I’m starting small. The cut-off is ten people. Once the limit is reached, I will kill the subscription link (humanely, of course). Without giving away too many details, your subscription will consist of three separate pieces of mail from me each month. I regret to inform you this offer is only available to US residents at the moment. Once we work out the kinks, I’ll expand it across the map. 

TL;DR: Beta testers needed for potential project. Purchase a monthly subscription for $11. Receive three pieces of mail per month. Ten people maximum, first come first served. US  residents only. 

Are you in? Click the link below.


Shop-Purge : Post Card Sale on Etsy



I had an intervention with myself and we’ve decided a shop purge was in order. It’s been yet another transformational time in my life and I’ve got to leave some baggage behind. I’m clearing out old art projects and hosting a store-wide sale. My baggage, your benefit. I have over fifteen post card designs in my shop at this time, so I am creating packs at an extremely discounted price. View the listing on Etsy (pairs quite nicely with the Mail Culture Button and Stationery Pack). I invite you to take advantage of this clearing-out sale while you can. The first handful of orders to come through will likely end up receiving an additional 5 post cards (or other various stationery). Stock up on cards to keep mail culture alive and well in 2014.

And, regarding mail culture – I’ve decided to put a hiatus on The Paper Doll Army. While I hope this project still continues to inspire people to write more letters, updates will cease until future notice. I will continue writing my own set of letters daily, at my own pace. I hope you do the same. Feel free to interact with each other on the Facebook page and find pen pals. Now get shopping.



Here’s to Mail Culture.



I was organizing my studio space and while I just recovered from Pack-Rat Rehab, there’s still heaps of stationery, scrap paper and stamps floating around in every drawer. After rekindling my relationship with my typewriter, I created a batch of collages pressed into one inch badges. Each badge is compiled of a hand-typed message, recycled wrapping paper and cut from a vintage stamp. I’m killing two birds with one stone and lightening my load of stationery while providing a great letter-writing kit for you. Each set includes:

  • Three one inch buttons.
  • Two post cards.
  • Two vintage stamps.
  • One DIY greeting card.

You can purchase the mini kit in the Etsy shop.




Here’s to unposed photos.



Caleb and I took a short trip to Portland followed by a drive up the Oregon coast. Nearly three hundred photos were captured on my Nikon. Upon reviewing the physical evidence of our trip (immediately after arriving home), I had a strange epiphany of sorts. While all photos provided documentation of our time away, my favorite photos were the ones some may consider to be “out-takes.” Blurry hands, awkward faces, people in their “natural environment.” Un-staged and unrehearsed. Unrefined and raw.

Since purchasing my Nikon, I have yet to edit a single photo. All photos are taken from my camera, imported into Picasa and uploaded to Flickr. I think the idea of “leaf-rubbing” a photo is divine -  taking what’s in front of me and pressing it onto paper (or in this case, onto a screen). Taking what is and preserving it for what it is - not trying to make it something it’s not. Editing is a great tool when it comes to selling people things, but I’m not trying to sell you anything. Editing is good for enhancing what’s already there. You can use it to alter images, removing blemishes for example. But I’m trying to document the world as I see it, to share with friends, family and my future self. These days I just want to capture things how they are - Blemishes and all. In one take.

Before the days of Instagram, I was obsessively taking photos of everything everywhere all the time. Most things in front of my lens were food related. Before taking a bite to enjoy my meal, I was arranging my food to make it more “photo-worthy.” It was a running joke for a while; I wouldn’t indulge before snapping a shot. Sometimes that meant turning the plate and changing the angle several times before picking up the fork. Thankfully those days are over, but that hasn’t stopped me from accruing several hundred photos within a week’s time.

We can put the blame on technology; If we were paying for each exposure, I’m sure the amount of “selfies” and portraits of food would dwindle. But we don’t, so they won’t. As a kid, I would purchase a roll a film when special occasions arose – the last day of school, family events, vacations, etc. I was allotted so many exposures, so I had to use them wisely. These days you can take fifty seven photos of yourself and sift through them seconds later, deleting ones where the light hits your nose in an unflattering manner.

I’m sitting on the fence and I still haven’t made up my mind as to which side is greener. On one hand, it’s beautiful to have a physical memento of a moment captured in time. On the other hand, when you stop and pause to snap a photograph, you’re temporarily removing yourself from the situation. With most things, it comes down to moderation. I’m raising my glass to unposed photos – Nouns in their natural habitat. And what about self portraits? I’m not putting a personal ban on “selfies.” If I’m alone on a mountain top with a tripod and wireless remote, you’d better believe I’ll be standing in a Wonder Woman stance, smiling big and snapping a photo. However, from this day forward, I’d like to capture the world around me naturally and organically. Leaf-rubbings. 

Something I enjoy most is people watching (mainly because I enjoy sketching them). A few weeks ago I posted an Instagram photo of my POV from Starbucks; I was sat on a love seat across from two chairs. My friend Eric commented, “You are like a spider with an overstuffed leather web.” It’s true; I eat them up. Humans are interesting creatures. We live up to stigmas and stereotypes, but what I adore most about people is unfiltered circumstances. The way they interact with others. Body language. Furrowed brows in line at the post office, nervous tics walking down the sidewalk, poor postures resting in the book store - I think that is more beautiful than a perfectly posed photo and practiced facial expression. And that is the world I want to remember when sifting through photographs of my past. This is the world I want to capture and display on dusty shelves.

This site exists because readers like you choose to support it. If you found this article to be of interest, please consider a small donation or visit the shop. Thank you for supporting my creative endeavors. 

The Radical Uprise.




First things first. Can I just say I’m happy to hear I’m not the only blogger who “doesn’t believe” in New Year’s Resolutions? I’m sure there’s a handful of us who don’t, but I enjoyed Aine’s Brooding Blogger not only because she’s a peach, but I can relate to this post 100%.  I could compose my own blog entry, weaving nouns and adjectives into a cozy knit article, but if you want to know my thoughts, simply read Aine’s because I’m paddling in the same boat. Upstream. As I proclaimed to her on Instagram, “Here’s to content!” to which she replied, “To content! …and no resolutions.” It’s been nearly a month since my last entry on this blog, but I’m cutting the ribbon, breaking ground and raising a glass to more content.



The suit of stones has been making an appearance in recent tarot readings. Stones are associated with achievement, possessions, practical skills, worldly ambitions, being of the world. “I learned this, at least, by my experiment; that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.” / Henry David Thoreau. I read this suit as real, tangible manifestations. However, one is unable to achieve such without patience, perseverance and discipline. Here’s to branching out and creating a meaningful 2014. Here’s to more content. Here’s to changes.

The past few months have been a time of reflection. I decided to dig up my roots and dust off my given name. It still fits; imagine that. I posted to Instagram, “You can call me Kate. Maybe some day I’ll write a heartfelt zine exploring and explaining my reasons. Maybe I won’t. I’ve shed this skin and I’m tossing it to the wind. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. RIP @jettavegas.” It’s not a decision I made on a whim. People in “real life” have been incredibly accepting and supportive. I don’t think the folks on the Internet figured out I buried Jetta Vegas in the closet under faded handkerchiefs, dusty photographs and boxes of hand-writtens letters. At any rate, that’s not what this article about (I plan to write a zine about the switch, so keep your eyes peeled if you want the juicy details). Dear readers please take note – This bag of bones, formally know as Jetta Vegas, now wears the name “Kate.” And my name isn’t the only thing changing.

When I began The Radical Uprise, it revolved around one concept – a positive mental attitude. I consistently posted “Seven Ways to Kick this Week’s Ass.” Most of my articles were written with the intention to ignite. Inspire. The trouble I found is there is no one recipe to satisfy everyone’s taste buds. There is no one tonic which promises to cure all ailments. I came to the realization that my “words of wisdom” could become someone else’s recipe for disaster. While I have every intention of providing posts that motivate and inspire, they will wear a different suit. Skip the “self help” section, tilt your head to the right and drag your fingers across the memoirs. My experience. The world through my lens. That is all I can provide. I don’t have the answer, but I have the experience. And while my experience will differ from yours, I can only hope to inspire you through my journey. In the words of Alanis Morissette, “what it all comes down to is that I haven’t got it all figured out just yet.” That said, The Radical Uprise will continue to be a hub for inspiration and motivation, but it will merge into more of a “lifestyle blog.” This is my radical uprise. I thank each of you for your incessant love and support over the past few years. Here’s to a fruitful 2014.


I’m off to spend the next two days driving around with my best friend and photographing the coast. Cheers.

Pack-Rat Rehab.


I’ve always been a packrat.

A hoarder of sorts. A “pile-person.” I live and work amongst what I like to call organized chaos. To an outsider, my creative lair may appear to be disastrous. Unkempt. It’s a habit (I’ll call it a habit because the word seems appropriate enough) I’ve practiced nearly all my life. In high school my mom grew tired of seeing my unsightly living space and would leave it behind closed doors. She said it was easier to deal with if she couldn’t see it. When I moved into my own apartment at the age of eighteen, she’d visit and I could follow her gaze from the pile of junk mail on the floor to the sink full of dishes. Her eyes would plead with me but her smile let me know it was alright. She probably began to accept it. I think everyone did.

Even to this day someone can tell when I’ve walked into a room. A few weeks ago I took a trip to Port Townsend. My friend Caleb and I got a hotel room and within five minutes an observation was made. His backpack was sitting upright on a chair in the corner and I had marked the space with my stuff as a hound would his territory. Notebooks fell out of my bag and onto the floor. Clothing poured out onto the furniture. Novel on the nightstand. Bottles on table. It became home. I have no qualms making myself comfortable in a new scene.

I’ve come to believe my workspace reflects my mind. What I mean to say is that for the most part, my mind is on overdrive. Bustling with project ideas, to-do lists, artistic outlets. Blog posts, photography projects. Many times a project gets buried under seven new projects (Literally. On my desk). More often than not, I struggle to bring an idea into physical fruition because my attention is divided among so many tasks. On top of scattered mentality and reality I have hoards of stuff.

This post was initially inspired by a heavy-duty cleaning session. I rearranged my living room (so we could turn our heaters on) and started cutting myself off from things. The roommates and I spent a few hours deep-cleaning our kitchen (that was foul). My room was stripped, organized and rearranged. The past week of tidying has not only been cleansing for the apartment, but my mind and well-being. I feel lighter (and our apartment is as well; combined, Carmen and I unloaded eight bags and two boxes of things from the place). Side note: props to my roommates for simply dealing with me (and my piles). I can be a difficult human to coexist with if you are a neat-freak. We all have kinks we’re working out. And I’m an artist, after all. 

Since I started this mad organizing spree, I went on a rampage and dissected my workspace. My mom and I used to play a “game” (it’s not really a game) where we would clean my office/workspace together. You sit out all of your markers and pens and test each one. If no ink remains, toss it (don’t ask my why I keep mediocre pens but I’ve always had hoards).

I think I finally came to the realization that my clutter has been wearing me down, discouraging and dismantling me. All because I feel bad throwing out (recycling, rather) things I don’t use anymore but keep around “in case I might.”

I believe I (like most of us) require a certain kind of atmosphere to feel comfortable. I tell friends I don’t like hanging out anywhere I can’t put my feet up on the coffee table. Crooked pictures on the walls, subpar paint jobs, dust collecting on jars containing match books, clay pots full of memories in the shape of sea shells. Mismatched pillows clashing with loud quilts. This is my comfort zone. I like visiting houses with character. I enjoy beat-up magazine sitting on the couch and knickknacks on dressers. Comfort over fashion. Always. Plus it’s fun to let your eyes wander.

I still have (and will probably always have) my clutter. In small doses. Mementos, rocks, antiques, trinkets and knickknacks now line the (new) shelves in our hallway (I call it our “museum”). There’s a pile of shells, rocks, fortunes and instant photos on my desk. This is in my nature. But as it stands, I have successfully plowed through this mental block that took the form of old index cards, paint samples and dried-up Sharpie pens. Now onto make some magic.

Next up : Digital cleaning.

This site exists because readers like you choose to support it. If you found this article to be of interest, please consider a small donation or visit the shop. Thank you for supporting my creative endeavors.