Miro on the Wall

06/16/2026

I don't choose colors just the way a designer chooses colors.

I choose them the way you reach for something in the dark.
When I'm low, I go loud. Saturated color is an argument, it insists on being seen. Some days, making something that insists on being seen is the closest I can get to doing it myself.

Other days I go quiet. One line, a lot of white space. The restraint is the feeling.

Still Drawing is a weekly series on depression, mental health, and what making art has meant to my survival.

What does your mood reach for?

06/10/2026

06/10/2026

Shared someone's art today as a show of support and appreciation. Got back hostility and told I'm not an artist.

I'm choosing not to carry that energy, but share a reminder that creative spaces thrive on generosity, not gatekeeping.

This space (and the world) works best when we lead with respect, even when we disagree.

This community deserves better than that. It's Pride Month. It's Mental Health Awareness Month. Of all times to choose kindness...

06/09/2026

Every June I find myself sitting with a lot of feelings.

Pride is joyful, obviously. But it's also complicated. And I think the most honest thing I can do as an artist, and as a gay man, is say both things out loud.

This month I'm thinking about visibility. About mental health. About the male body and how rarely it's just... celebrated without agenda. About pop art and how it was always, quietly and loudly, a q***r art form.

Warhol knew it. Haring lived it. The whole movement was built on taking what the world overlooked and making it impossible to ignore.

That's what I try to do with every print.

If Pride brings up complicated feelings for you this year - old grief, old silence, or just the exhaustion of still having to fight - please talk to someone. You don't have to be okay all the time. You just have to keep going.

Happy Pride. From me, to you, in every color.

🌈 Shop the collection — link in bio.

06/06/2026

I've been wanting to say this out loud for a while.

This is the start of something I'm calling Still Drawing - a weekly series where I talk about depression, mental health, and the role art has played in keeping me here. Not a brand story. Not a campaign. Just honest writing from someone who has been drawing his way through it for a long time.

—

I didn't start making art to build a brand.
I started because I needed somewhere to put it.
Depression doesn't announce itself cleanly. It arrives as distance - from the people you love, from your own face in the mirror, from the version of yourself you thought you were.

Drawing was the one place the distance closed.
Not because it fixed anything. It didn't. But the act of making a mark - choosing a line, committing to a color - that was something I could control when nothing else was.

I've been a graphic designer for over 20 years. But this work - the bodies, the intimacy, the color - this started as survival. It became a practice. Then a language. Then, eventually, a shop.

But it started as survival.

—

When did you first find the thing that held you?

06/06/2026

I've been wanting to say this out loud for a while.

This is the start of something I'm calling Still Drawing - a weekly series where I talk about depression, mental health, and the role art has played in keeping me here. Not a brand story. Not a campaign. Just honest writing from someone who has been drawing his way through it for a long time.

—
I didn't start making art to build a brand.
I started because I needed somewhere to put it.
Depression doesn't announce itself cleanly. It arrives as distance - from the people you love, from your own face in the mirror, from the version of yourself you thought you were.

Drawing was the one place the distance closed.
Not because it fixed anything. It didn't. But the act of making a mark - choosing a line, committing to a color - that was something I could control when nothing else was.

I've been a graphic designer for over 20 years. But this work - the bodies, the intimacy, the color - this started as survival. It became a practice. Then a language. Then, eventually, a shop.
But it started as survival.

—
When did you first find the thing that held you?

06/01/2026

And I have a lot of feelings about it.

MORE THAN A MONTH
Every June I find myself reflecting on what it means to be visible. To be loud. To take up space in a world that, for a long time, asked people like us to be smaller, quieter, easier to ignore.
I make art because I refuse to do that. And I think that’s why pop art and q***r culture have always felt like the same conversation to me.

CAN WE TALK ABOUT MENTAL HEALTH FOR A SECOND?
I know Pride is supposed to be joyful - and it is. But it’s also complicated sometimes. And I think we owe it to each other to say that out loud.
A lot of us carry things we’ve never fully put down. Old shame. Old silence. The habit of performing okay when we’re not. I’ve been there. I think most of us have.
So this month, more than anything, I want to say this: talk about it. To someone. Anyone. The bravest thing isn’t always the parade - sometimes it’s just telling one person the truth about how you’re doing.
You deserve that kind of honesty. You deserve support.

THE MALE BODY IS SOMETHING TO CELEBRATE
I’ve always been drawn to the male form as subject matter. There’s so much beauty there that’s been either hypersexualized or shamed - rarely just... celebrated. Seen clearly. Painted with care.
Pop art gave me a language for that. Bold lines. Strong color. No apology.
The male body - every version of it - deserves to be hung on a wall and admired. That’s not a radical idea. It just feels like one sometimes.

POP ART WAS ALWAYS A LITTLE GAY
Warhol knew it. Haring knew it. The whole movement was built on taking what mainstream culture overlooked or dismissed - and making it impossible to ignore.
That’s q***r culture too. That’s what we do. We take the parts of ourselves we were told to hide, and we blow them up, print them in four colors, and put them on the wall.
I’ve been doing that my whole life. In my art, in my identity, in the way I choose to show up.
This month, I’m just a little more deliberate about it.

HAPPY PRIDE.
Thank you for being part of this community. For supporting independent art. For being exactly who you are.

🌈
— Miro