On October 31, 2025, I took the first brush stroke of paint, aggressively releasing stress, onto Moby. From the start, it was a way to release pent up energy and thoughts. To output creation that means something, because it's visible to people.
Breaking the Ice
The brush strokes that followed were passion filled and inspired from that of human synthesis. The Lily Bomb Band logo was the first installation onto the van. I projected the logo onto the side of my van and began tracing with a pencil during the night. I used a head lamp to make sure my lines were accurate.
Early in the morning I began pouring paint onto my pallet. I had no paint brushes at the time, so my brush of choice was a spare fifty cent toothbrush I had picked up in Lansing MI one time. The paint went on sloppy. I was content, my dog dripping wet, just off the beach in the cool fall air of Durham North Carolina. It was peaceful as the first progress was made filling in the outline. I found the toothbrush, just mashing colors together on the pallet and the canvas very therapeutic. It wasn't clean, and it was done so intentionally.
I liked that I made the rules.
Making the rules of my own possession felt empowering to me. I knew that very few people would find the choice to paint a van to be a good one. I knew I was sure to face criticism. The online T1N community has a lot of loud voices in it. But I liked that it was my space, I was doing something outside of the norm. I was much more intimate with the walls of Moby. I thought it was time for a change.
I love that a valid response to any criticism is that "It's my van." Usually we're done talking when those words exit my mouth. It was really scary to take the first steps of putting the first paint on the van, but I absolutely loved the opportunities it presented. Driving to Florida from the North flooded my mind with ideas. Could I make money from this? Would people think I'm a sellout if I tried to make money? I didn't know. But I was dang sure going to find out.
Venmo me diesel. I'll paint your dreams on my van.
The first full wrap scheme that went up on Moby was a concept, "Venmo me diesel. I'll paint your dreams on my van." This concept I was very blunt about in the sense that I wrote out those exact words, "Venmo me diesel..." Directly across the full body, covering every panel of my van. I was not subtle...
I made the leap of faith on November 3rd, 2025. These words going up on the van felt scary, vulnerable. I knew it meant people now knew I was struggling with money. I looked, well, homeless.
I still didn't mind that my perfect paint scheme was ruined, I was more focused on testing and seeing if anyone would send me a Venmo with an art request. I eagerly waited by my phone as hundreds of people flocked past Moby on their way to the beach. Zero conversions.
I was slightly upset, but not enough to knock me down for the count. I found it unique that I now lived in a rolling billboard that could attract dollars at any hour of the day or night. Did it? No.
Something to Dream About.
I was having fun with it though. Since breaking the ice and putting the first paint on Moby, it was really fun to be very expressive and loud with how I was feeling. The wall on the outside became a reflection of what was happening on the inside of my own head, an outlet that I found incredibly therapeutic. It gave me something to dream, think, and ponder on late into the early November nights. Most importantly...
The wall listened to my problems, and the wall never judged me. People judged the wall, but their perspective was more of a byproduct of the art on the wall, and that's okay.
