Varhaus No. 1

April 2, 2027

Varhaus.

April 2, 2027.

3:05 pm

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You approach an old building with a new sign: Varhaus

On the glass door, etched lettering: “figure it out.”

You pull the door open, it swings off-true. No bell rings. No electronic alert. You slip through. The door slams behind your feet, then settles halfway in the jamb. You expect the commotion to announce your presence. It does not. It seems empty. The place is old, but uncluttered. The concrete floor is untreated but patched and clean. The walls are flat white. The ceiling is high and flat black. A few furniture groupings sit around the room: used chairs, coffee tables, an ugly but clean couch. Directly in your path sits a dais. Or maybe a hostess podium. No one staffs it. A single spotlight shines from above directing you to a pair of fine crystal wine glasses, an opened bottle of Pinot Noir. On the same pedestal sits a full pot of coffee and one simple mug beside the wine.

Below, on the face of the stand: “thanks a million for coming”

You pour yourself some coffee. You take it in. The coffee is too rich and bold for the environment. The room is long and narrow, yet large. You realize you are only seeing part of the footprint. The flat white paint and the sparse decor make it feel larger than it is. The coffee pot sits roughly 15 feet from the front door and with sixty feet of room running to the back wall. There is no evidence that this is a store or a place of business. To your right, a partition seems to block an opening to the rest of the building.

Some people would ask what is going on here.

You think:

Anything can happen here.

On the back wall, as if your senses have been subtly cued a line of sight to move your eyes from the welcome java to the main attraction, a massive abstract painting. It pops off the wall like a greeting. Good to meet you! Aside from a singular spotlights placed above the furniture like nightlights, the art is lit fully and professionally. You stare at the painting from your fresh coffee stance. A hum becomes noticeable.

You don’t know too much about art, but as you slowly walk to the back wall, the painting draws you in, the vibration gets stronger. You stop thinking. The deep bass becomes white noise for your focus. You observe the painting without attempting to add meaning.

..a flash of light to your right.

You whip your head right and see a man in a human fishbowl. Hidden behind the partition and the painting, he has no idea you’re watching. It is not a fishbowl but an art studio encased in repurposed glass. Three temporary 2x4 easels hold twelve-foot paintings....similar to the size of the painting that drew you in. In the middle of the U-shaped arrangement sit huge tables scattered with paint, tools, and objects whose purpose you can’t guess.

The hum? Music in the fishbowl. Apparently very, very loud.

The artist wears cutoff Puma sweatpants, a steel chain with medals and saints, and half-dried paint on his bare chest. You find a chair and watch while you drink your coffee. The artist moves with purpose or not at all. There is no middle ground of wasted action. He is either deciding or executing. Thinking or painting. Never a second guess. Never a move to reconfigure. Paint, stop, paint, stop.

The bass shakes the glass of the studio. You recognize it. Wu Tang...He has no idea you’re there. His concentration, his craft, and “Protect Ya Neck” keep him fixed on making. The studio door bears an etched sign in the same font as the front door and dais:

Artist Working.
Interrupt with Caution

You watch until he breaks routine and reaches for a coffee mug. Finding it empty, he heads toward the door toward you. He observes your presence for the first time, turns around, turns down the volume, and pulls a baby blue hoodie over his head. Varhaus on the chest.

Hello, I’m Jason. I need coffee, would you like some more?

He comes back with the coffee and a third mug wrapped in a branded box. He smiles appreciatively and gifts you the mug:

VARHAUS
GO TO HEAVEN
DO SIMPLE CAPITALISM
SHOW PEOPLE THEY’RE NOT TRAPPED

You ask what the painting means. He points to the mug, shrugs, then turns the question back at you. He nods at your answer.

“The why is more valuable than the what. The reasons are on the mug.”

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Next…

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Varhaus: Built in Imagination First

I’ve been building Varhaus in my mind for years, long before I had names for any of this. Before Million Dollar Garage, before newsletters, before pricing ladders, before trying to explain myself.

Million Dollar Garage was the first iteration. Necessary. Small. Personal. A place to learn what could be made with limited means, stubbornness, and whatever was in reach.

Varhaus is the larger endeavor.

A place for doing cool shit. Art. Food. Experience. Motion. Surprise. Attraction. A destination people hear about from someone who says, you have to see this place. A room that keeps changing. A business that earns its keep. A place where discovery is part of the product.

Maybe it can be built. Maybe it cannot be built on an artist’s paycheck. That part is still unresolved.

So I’ve decided to build it first in public imagination.

The work becomes energy. The output becomes memory.

What follows is a serialized vision of a place I hope to make real through work, time, luck, and grace.

Begin with Varhaus No. 1.