Jim Tucker Studio/Studio Beechmont

09/10/2026

Admittedly, this is a risk. Charging for entry to a private view isn't something I take lightly, and if I'm honest, it makes me uncomfortable. It can feel elitist, like I'm putting my own work behind a paywall.
But last summer a friend of mine had a ticketed show, and I paid to go. I stood in that room the whole night. Everyone there had chosen to be there and chosen to stay, and it changed how the whole evening felt.
That's what made me want to try it myself, even with the discomfort.
So this time, Collectors Hour is ticketed, and I wanted to build something worth the discomfort, worth staying for the whole hour, that, in turn, elevates other Mt. Washington businesses.
I am partnering with Randy from Sebastian Coffeehouse, who's created four pastries, each one inspired by a piece in this body of work:

-Orange PushUp

-Cookie Sandwich

-Chocolate Dip Cone

-Strawberry Shortcake

Each one paired with a w**e from Water Tower Fine W**e. So you're not just seeing the work, you're tasting it and drinking it too.

Thirty spots. That's it.

Which one are you most interested in trying?

https://www.jimtuckerstudio.com/experiences

09/05/2026

The Ice Cream shirt is here, and it’s officially up for presale.

Thank you to everyone who weighed in on which color should lead the front design. The vote was close, so instead of choosing one, I’m offering both colors during presale.

Green front or blue front, your call. Each shirt features a two-color chest print, a three-color back print, and is screen-printed here in Ohio on a proper heavyweight tee.

Presale runs through September 10 at 11:59 PM. During presale, shirts are $28 instead of $35. You can pick yours up at the Ice Cream show on 9/25 at the studio, or choose delivery at checkout.

After September 10, whatever’s left is all there is. Sizes and colors won’t be guaranteed after presale ends.

Link below. Grab yours if it’s calling your name.

T-shirt with a 2-color chest print and a 3-color back print, screen-printed in Ohio. Pre-sale only: 2 front colorways to choose from It is printed on The AS Colour Staple Tee in a natural/off-white shade, offering lasting comfort with a regular fit. Constructed from 5.3 oz 100% combed cotton, it i

08/27/2026

Ok then, friends! The countdown to the opening of 'Ice Cream' begins here!

P.S. I'd love you to subscribe to my newsletter (follow the link to my website)

https://preview.mailerlite.io/preview/2595576/emails/196918082766112667

Ticket details are still coming together, but if you want a spot, just reply to this email and let me know. I'll make sure you're first in line when it's ready.

08/22/2026

Look at us getting talked about with these international heavy hitters

08/12/2026

Someone asked me in a meeting yesterday what the general theme of my work is.

I said "silliness."

The second it left my mouth I wondered how that would land. I felt like I'd shortchanged the question. That I should've had something heavier ready, something about the state of the world, like an adult.

There are so many artists who do that really well. Work that argues back at the world it comes out of. Something I definitely admire.

However, I am very comfortable that mine doesn't overtly do that. Mine's a rabbit that showed up out of a spray paint stain a few years back, that brought me tremendous joy when I discovered him hiding amongst the drips. Characters that seldom get used to make a point, they just get to exist for a minute, be a little ridiculous, and go back in the drawer.

I think silliness isn't the absence of a message. I hope when you see it, it reads as a moment's respite, the opposite of everything else going on.

I like the answer I gave yesterday a lot more today than I did in the moment.

07/30/2026

I see these pieces as two portraits.

There's the realism. The face, done as close to hyper-realism as I'll ever get, or care to get. Then there's everything swirling around it, the characters and the mess and the colour. That's the second portrait. That's my interpretation of them, how I see them, the version that lives in my head.

The dream version of this process is me sitting down with someone and drawing my interpretation of them from life. That's where I want it to go. But even now, without the person in the room, that's what these are. Two takes on the same soul. Who they are, and who they are to me.

People tell me they clock the palette as mine straight away. I found that funny at first, then kind, that anyone thinks about the work enough to believe I've got a signature. I've been running the same combo for years. It's my default when I don't want colour getting in the way of the piece. It's the through line. You could put these next to anything else I've made and know they came from the same hand.

That's also why the door's open to working with photographers, and I'm so grateful for so many phenomenal photographers in this city. These two were taken from Frank Young's collection and are part of what we pitched to land our BLINK commission. The realism half means I can build these around someone else's image and it still comes out as mine. The interpretation is where I live. The face is just where it starts.

I keep calling these three a manifesto and I think that's right. Not a big statement about the world. Just a clear one about what I'm trying to do. Render someone true, then let it get gloriously daft, and never make one win over the other.

07/25/2026

A lot of my work comes from stream of consciousness. I don't plan my pieces ahead of time. They emerge from what comes out when I'm moving freely, seeing what happens.

Some of my peers work differently. They have a cast of characters they develop intentionally over years, exploring what that character might do or become. I respect that approach.

But for me, if I keep returning to the same character, I'm no longer discovering. I'm steering, directing the work toward something I already know instead of staying open to what wants to come.

I think about it like a restaurant I really love. If I go there frequently I stop appreciating it. The food hasn't changed, but my attention has. If I space it out, once every couple months, I taste it fresh again.

Same with my characters. I let them rest. I only pull one back out when the piece needs it, so when they show up again, they still feel alive. The work stays a conversation between me and whatever's emerging, not me and a predetermined idea.

That freshness is what makes it fun. My characters aren't vehicles for my thoughts. They're the manifestation of the thoughts I'm having while I draw them.

07/24/2026

Since I was young it's been in my nature to step in and fix things when someone I care about is struggling. I've recently become aware that's probably for me rather than anyone else.

Someone said something that stuck with me this week. If a person has everything they need to pull themselves out of a slump and they choose not to, that's not on me to fix. Not if they're not hurting themselves or anyone else. They should be afforded the space to work it out on their own terms.

I had to really sit with that.

It reminded me of Edward Thorndike's puzzle box experiments from 1898. For those who don't know, he put cats in boxes with food just outside. To get out, the cat had to work through a whole combination of moves, not just one thing. No help. Just the cat and the box.

Over time the cat got faster, until it moved through the whole sequence like it had known all along.

It never learned because someone showed it the way out. It learned because it was left alone with the problem long enough to work it out itself.

Still sitting with it and fighting the urge to just open the box.

Coincidentally, I saw a lot of great cats in New Orleans.

07/22/2026

This one's for the 13 year olds who taught me more about social justice in America than any class or meeting ever did.

I taught for almost a decade before I made this piece. Seven years of ESL in South Korea, then two years teaching in Oakland after getting my California teaching license. The news told me Oakland was one of the worst cities in America. It turned out to be some of the best years of my life. I loved that job. I loved those kids.

Then we moved to Phoenix.

Phoenix humbled me. It wasn't the kids, it was the system underneath them, the class based redlining of the city, certain schools left with less of everything. I found out fast that loving the job in Oakland didn't mean I had teaching figured out.

I still think about the day an expert educator came to observe my classroom. A pack of 8th grade boys came busting through the door running, sliding across the desks like a rehearsed stunt. She gathered her things and left. That was my everyday.

I started pouring every free hour into my own art, a lot of it was coping. This piece turned into an ode to those kids, the most intimidating and fearless 13 year olds you'll ever meet, whose diet seemed to be 90% sugar, who embodied every case study about underprivileged communities and absolutely knew it.

The Lucky Charms character became a little demon fairy whispering in a kid's ear. Because that's what it felt like watching them. Something in them wouldn't sit still, weren't interested in working quietly, refused to cooperate. Most days I was rooting for it. And also just trying to get to the end of the day.

The piece is called "The Lucky Charms Made Me Do It." Because it did.

Also... last day to cast you vote in this weeks competition: https://www.facebook.com/share/p/18oD9duQ7z/

07/21/2026

Some pieces I finish in a day. Some sit there judging me.

There are three ice cream pieces on my bench right now. Been there for well over a month. Cut, painted, ready for assembly. I keep walking past them giving them the side eye.

I've been calling it lazy. Easier word to use. But it's not that. I show up every day. I make things most days. Just not these things.

The ice cream show is supposed to be fun. Melting cones, dumb grins, colors that make you smile whether you want to or not. That's the whole point of it. So why does finishing these pieces feel like homework?

I think I actually have a clear answer. I need a deadline. And I gave myself a very luxurious one. Mid-September.

Whatever it is, I'm not forcing it today either. They'll get finished. The show still happens in a few months. But I'd rather tell you the truth about the bench than pretend I've been in there grinding on ice cream cones with a smile on my face.

Some days the work waits on you instead of the other way around.