Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Roughly half an hour east of Lake Michigan sits the city I call home. Its growth can be attributed to the nineteenth-century boom of a legitimate furniture industry, while its current livelihood is sustained by a less-than-legitimate business empire promising easy wealth to those who would peddle soap to their co-workers. Grand Rapids is a place saturated by a blend of Dutch and Polish influences and shaped by the striking contrasts of Reformed and Catholic theology. Despite the stark differences between the heritages claimed by its Dutch and Polish founders—or perhaps because of them–Grand Rapids is home to a sea of right brained creatives on par with that of New York City. It’s a great place to be an artist of any sort, and if things don’t work out, there are plenty of people around here to sell you on being your own boss. Yes, we make fun of them too.