Howdy Howdy!
At SOMO, we make films, some of them even find their ending. We string together sentences, though coherence is often just a pleasant accident. From time to time, we capture a sliver of light and call it a photograph. But if we're honest, none of that is the point. The only thing that holds any real weight is the people, those we draw near, those who draw near to us.
Art, for us, is not the end. It is the doorway. A way to gather, to listen, to be heard. A fragile thread stretched between hearts, meant to pull us a little closer.
This past week, that thread became something more tangible. We hosted a concert. Fired up the oven and made pizzas by hand. And we shared a space that I’ve been shaping quietly over the last four years, stone by stone, mistake by mistake, with friends, family, and a few wandering souls who have somehow become both.
If SOMO is anything, it is this—not the product, but the pause. Not the image, but the people who stay after it fades.
Ceviche swung by the ranch
Our good friend AJ (now known as Ceviche) stopped by the ranch last week to open for Max Gomez. While we were out tending sheep and moving irrigation lines, he found a quiet spot beneath the big box elder, in an old alcove we’d just cleared out, and got to work on a song that had been eluding him. Before long, the words came, and we recorded it with him right there in the shade of the barn. We’ll be sharing the video soon. In the meantime:
“Kicking ass out in the western jungle
I find it easy enough to breath
In the time it takes you to comb your tangles
You’ll be thinking about me”
At first glance, it’s a cryptic jab, the kind of line you half-hear in a dive bar while trying to decide if the band’s serious or just stoned. But spend a little time with it, and this verse becomes a battle cry—a rejection of perfectionism, a call to wilderness, and a reminder that some of us are too busy doing to care if you’re watching.
Zen and The Art of Pizza
Pizza, like most things worth doing, is simple until you try. The dough resists, the fire flares, and your plans fall apart just enough to remind you you're alive. But the point was never perfection, it was the pause. The real art of pizza is in the sharing, in the laughter between bites, in the way a good meal can soften the edges of a hard week. Zen isn’t in the crust, it’s in the company.
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