Cozy Punk, Endless Shrimp & Mypinyp
The first thing Tucker said to me when I saw him yesterday: “I have the answers.” Then, after a pause, he followed up with: “The answers are not good.”
We briefly considered whether having answers was ever the goal. Good news: it’s not. The goal is to keep chugging away.
Summer School: Spring 2026 is officially in session.
Don’t want to get this? Hit reply with “not for me” and we’ll expel you from Summer School—no hard feelings.
What is “cozy punk”?
Naomi: …
Tucker: WAIT!!!! I, too, love Andy Weir (read his first published work, The Egg) and Ryan Gosling (my hall pass). But I fear that as our resident space nut, Naomi, you worry that you might bother us with too much Moon content, so let me scream it for you: Artemis II is the coolest event of our lifetime.
The last time a human left earth orbit was 1972. The hippies and squares of the day came together to look at the sky and marvel at something we did together. (Those hippies are now my old dad and your old dad, and one is, well, much more of a hippie still. I won’t say which.)
We’re now officially “Middle” (hurts to type that) and the world is being eaten by AI. There’s a spoon of plastic in our brains. The most powerful people are legit Bond villains. But for a minute, we can all look skyward and consider the astronauts who are currently on a road trip to our favorite neighbor.
It is incredible when humans work together. NASA pulled this off, which means we funded it with our collective spirit and tax dollars. It isn’t profitable. It isn’t selling advertising. Some may claim it’s to beat China to the moon, but still: science and beauty are part of it, too.
So, look up. Wish our pals a safe journey and return. Don’t forget what we can do if we try.
Naomi: FINE. You’re right. I didn’t want to write about the launch until they were safely in space, so we added this section last minute. (Thank you for feeling as excited as me.)
Watching Artemis II launch felt like…well, being in a movie. One without bloodshed or battlegrounds, where maybe we’re not doomed and the future is figure-outable. That’s the whole premise of cozy punk (or solar-punk or hope-punk, choose your favorite).
That’s why Project Hail Mary is so popular. There are puppets and giant physical sets and cool non-CGI lighting effects and a non-problematic movie star in the captain’s seat. I have been quantumly entangled by this content. I read the physical book (thanks, Cesar), listened to the audio book, and watched the first seven seconds of each promo clip from the deeply-overwhelming and simultaneously-charming press tour.
It made $140.9 million opening weekend, and that’s not interesting because it’s Amazon MGM Studios’ biggest opening ever but because it’s original IP. No superheroes (debatable). But not a remake. Or a reboot. Or a sequel. But it’s also ACTUALLY cozy thanks to the very specific, handmade, knit-beanie, cozy-quilt-and-Converse aesthetic of Gosling’s costumes. These comfies are a departure from the book, but offer a delicious juxtaposition when paired with the sterile spacecraft and Big Gulp of astrophysics we’re being served. (It’s also caused quite the boon for the Michigan-based knit factory responsible for the fox sweater.)
This is what a good adaptation does: it adds texture without killing the plot. Remarkable. Get ready for science-teacher consignment core as the unofficial dress code of 2026. While you crochet your sweater, read some sci-fi. Feel small. Romanticize space travel. Because whether you like it or not, we’re building a moon base, baby!
Is this green or blue?
Naomi: We recently designed and built a new project that features a list of 200+ nurse-vetted hospitals in the US.
Throughout the project, Tucker kept referencing the background color of our assets as “green.” He’s wrong, of course. But constantly telling him that made me realize I needed a new word or phrase that helps me convey that neuro-diversity comes in many shades. So here it is: Mypinyp (“my-pin-ippy”). It stands for, as you probably have already guessed, My Purple Is Not Your Purple.
Meaning: your internal experience is not transferable, and explaining it is often a lost cause. Maybe your machine (e.g. brain, soul, consciousness?) makes you anxious when you think about certain topics, like airport travel. Maybe you’re physically ill stuck in taxi traffic no matter how early your app says you’ll arrive. Just turn to your partner and say, “thanks for leaving four hours early, it’s a Mypinyp situation.”
Because no matter how much we are trying to understand each other, true empathy is a pipedream. We can communicate. We can show love. We can accommodate. But we can’t run someone else’s OS. Our purples (or our greens) are simply…different.
Except in the rare case that you are really good at color…like literally. Our brand guru Barbara proved this by absolutely demolishing us in this EXTREMELY HARD COLOR MATCHING GAME. You try to get this close. Send screenshots.
How much AI is too much AI? (How much shrimp is too much shrimp?)
Tucker: The defining characteristic of the AI era isn’t scarcity—it’s excess. Too many options. Too many tabs open. Too many “should we just—” conversations. Our jobs have changed from “how do we use our time wisely to create the best thing possible” to “we have the best tools possible, how do we prevent ourselves from making a mess?”
This AI company found an interesting solution. Luma is offering a $1M prize for anyone that can create a Cannes-winning advertisement with their AI platform. There is something I appreciate about the insanity that it has produced (like this perfect ad for Endless Shrimp).
My read here? We must create mechanisms of focus that narrow the abundance (or endless shrimp) down to the best and most beautiful (or most insane). Naomi would say: when everything is available, decision-making and taste become the actual bottleneck.
So: you don’t need more shrimp. You need a smaller plate and an eye for the very best shrimp. How do you develop that sense of taste and judgement? You must keep exploring in weird and uncomfortable places. For starters, you can get to know this microtonal math rock band.
Featuring our very first guest answer from the esteemed photographer and friend of the shop, Sanjay Suchak (check out his amazing images).
How do I survive the mountain of never-ending content?
A: Stop making content. Make artifacts.
I can’t take full credit for this reframing. I’m a music photographer and was recently shooting a Public Enemy show in Norway. As we were stepping off the stage after soundcheck in Trondheim, DJ Jahi turned to me and said, “You’re not taking photos, you’re creating artifacts,” with the kind of wisdom and confidence only he can impart.
Now I can’t stop thinking about it.
In the moment, of course, I stammered, said thank you back, but thought to myself—sure, maybe Jim Marshall, Henry Diltz and Mick Rock made REAL ARTIFACTS back in the day of film. But not I. Not in this new world of pixels, generative AI, and lightning turnarounds. Not when everyone considers themselves a photographer.
Within the last decade, it has become popular to call photographers “content creators.” No phrase pisses me off more. This implies our work is meant for fast consumption and immediate disposal. But we’re working dogs (like Schnauzers). As creatives, we have to produce. And I can’t compete with AI speed. So Jahi’s words have really helped me understand my place. It is not to make quick content, meet unreasonable timelines, or make outlandish amounts of deliverables. I don’t have to contribute to the pile of MORE BAD. I can make art as proof something happened. As a portal to the past.
Real artifacts, to me, are images that my clients can look back on decades later as documentation of their triumphs and visual translations of their wildest dreams. More practically, images that will be useful for far longer than their quick content counterpart would be.
So what makes an artifact?
- Imperfect nature
- Human element
- Creates genuine connection
- Crafted with care
Reframing my work as artifact creation has already paid off. I’ve been actively pitching (and selling) more ideas instead of reacting to client needs. I’ve been helping them find opportunities to make real connections with their audience.
Maybe the idea here isn’t that we need to have our art last 100 years. It’s simply making it good enough now that maybe it could.
“A person who sees Quality and feels it as he works is a person who cares. A person who cares about what he sees and does is a person who’s bound to have some characteristics of Quality.” — Robert M. Pirsig
Not-So-Terrible Links
Everything is slides. People are pitching their friends as romantic partners via tongue-in-cheek PowerPoints. Folks are having parties and hosting comedy shows where a Canva deck is the main event. Slides are having a moment. Our informal poll says everyone’s still pretty reliant on Canva or Google Slides because the AI options don’t have great collaboration options. Figma Slides gets our vote. (Sponsor us?)
- WaPo on the slide-ification of everything
- Next Slide Please, a PowerPoint comedy show
- Econ LOL
- Palmer Trolls
- Smartypants
The kids are playing cards. Post phone-ban in NYC schools, high schoolers are reportedly playing Texas Hold ‘Em. I didn’t believe it until I saw some young folks at a bar in Barcelona playing Uno. Need a new deck? Tucker likes this dog-themed deck from Etsy maker Artiphany. Me? I’m collaborating on a set of Mississippi-themed oracle cards for an art festival later. Stay tuned. (How the phone ban quietly saved high school.)
Build a horse. Watch it run. Make silly, beautiful things.
Free artwork. The Art Scavenger is one. Cosmos public art is another. We use both for our branding projects and didn’t want to gatekeep.
Two things you can do for your friends who are brave enough to have another birthday:
- With Luv: gather messages and images from friends that send automatically to the recipient.
- Send them a clown in the mail. It comes with a random, very sketchy note. Tucker did this to test if it’s a real site. It is. “Best $40 I ever spent.”
USB Club: this one we haven’t tested but want to.
Stand-up from Kyle Kinane: a good background ha-ha for the next time you’re cleaning up after your robot threw up something you didn’t ask for.
Course seven of Summer School completed. Made it down here? Send us an emoji that represents your current weekend plans. 🔭
See you in the garden, Naomi & Tucker