Painted doors - Hi Oliver March 2018 daCunha.global

Hi Oliver – 31st March 2018



Saturday, March 31st, 2018



Hi Oliver,

I’m unsure. Maybe worried. Perhaps I’m just a little bit nervous. Yet, I have a daily feeling of euphoria. How do you feel? Not in general, but what do you feel when you think of this venture we’re building?

I guess if I was sure about things, I’d be even more worried. Ha! I worry that it all feels like the greatest thing because I’ve not told the world, in my usual way. It’s still kinda secret. Ned says every writer is writing the next great novel, in their mind, as long as they decide not to show it to anyone. I’m tired of living this thing inside my head.

I dunno why I’m telling you this. I suppose I wanted to hear you say something pithy to make me feel good about where we’re at. But, that just seems like a silly way to keep writing that great novel. Goats. Is there something about goats that makes sense? You seem to be spending a lot of time with goats lately — at least according to your book of faces.

I’ve built some cool things. They all took a kind of confidence that I’m finding hard to muster at the moment. I think I know why. Art. It feels like we’re creating art—not a thing to brush your teeth or blow your nose or help you lose weight. This thing is art. You can’t argue or convince people about art, can you?

And if it’s art, well, shit. What then. I don’t know how to sell art.

Ned always reminds me it’s about showing, not telling. But, a lot of selling is telling. Maybe I need to read about PT Barnum? What do you know about him? I don’t mean the wikipedia perspective, but what do you really know about him?

Do you know the first thought that came into my mind when I thought about our venture as art?

—What famous artists died poor?—

There’s so much wrong with that question, but it led me to this quote.

"There was no doubt that this poor man was mad, but there is something in the madness of this man which interests me more than the sanity of Lord Byron and Walter Scott."

That’s William Wordsworth talking about William Blake after hearing about his death. William Blake died penniless and ignored. William bloody Blake!

I can’t figure out what scares me more —poverty or not trying.

I hope you're well. I do hope this doesn’t bum you out. I had to tell someone — a person apart from my daily grind. Maybe you can see what the goats think.

Speak soon.

Peace, Todd

*Photo on panel for this story is by Luis Alfonso Orellana on Unsplash



About the Author

Todd Hannula

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I build human scale businesses with positivity, generosity, empathy, and story building at their core. I'm driven by curiosity and an affinity for the connectivity of ideas and people. I listen. I read. I talk. I write. I act.My work, my ventures, and my life have social, environmental, and economic benefits woven into their DNA. Because, it matters.