At the Steamboat Art Museum, I collaborated closely with the curator, Sue Oehme, to design and publish the catalog for the museum’s 2025 summer exhibition, The Art of Printmaking: Process and Passion.​
The way we choose to look at the world is what gives it weight. A table still littered with crumbs and half-drained wine glasses after a dinner party. The quiet theatre of people-watching through a café window. Meaning hides everywhere, waiting for us to name it, or surrender to those who attempt to define it for us, like artists.
The catalog wove together striking reproductions of the artwork with essays from the curators, all housed within a design that was contemporary yet timeless, minimal in structure, bold in detail. My goal was to create a visual rhythm that guided readers through the collection, offering not just documentation but a tactile echo of the exhibition itself.
Of course, meaning often sneaks in through mistakes, too. In my first print run of 75 copies, two paragraphs accidentally repeated while one went missing altogether. I was mortified, my ego bruised. But I fixed it, ordered another run, and kept moving forward. Later, the publisher of the Steamboat Magazine told me, “The day I print a perfect magazine is the day I retire.” In that moment, I realized: imperfection isn’t failure, it’s proof you’re still in the game.
So I’ll leave you with this: what lingers longer, the act of walking through an art museum, or the way you share that experience afterward? A catalog becomes both, a keepsake to revisit, to show your mom the piece that caught your eye, or to leave casually on your coffee table, hoping someone notices you’ve been spending time with culture.
