Journal Entry 2: Building A Creative House

For any independent musician, you learn fast that creativity alone isn’t enough—you have to become your own industry. You’re not just recording songs; you’re building visuals, creating merch, shooting content, promoting releases, learning algorithms, booking shows, and somehow holding onto the passion that made you start making music in the first place.

It becomes clear early: it takes money to make magic, and the path isn’t always straightforward. There are a hundred routes you can take, a thousand opinions on what success looks like, and even more variables that determine whether your vision ever reaches the world.

But when you strip it all down, two things matter more than anything:

your supporters and your ability to fund the dream.

That’s where this journey shifted for me.

How Questions Shift Culture

My father has been in prison for most of my life. Every time we talk, he asks two things:

“How can I hear your music?” and “Send me something I can hold onto.”

Pennsylvania has a prison streaming service, but most of my catalog—even the clean songs—isn’t available there. One day I explained to him that my distributor decides where my music goes.

And he said something simple that rerouted my whole mission:

“Then become your own distributor.”

At first, I brushed it off. That sounded like something only big corporations could pull off. But the more I researched, the more I realized that the technology exists for artists like us to own our platforms, our systems, and our futures.

That question from my father…

that simple challenge…

made me understand what independence really means.

Not “doing everything alone,”

but building the infrastructure that lets creativity breathe.

Why This Work Matters

As I studied audio engineering, production, and distribution, something clicked:

If we build a creative house—

if we build a studio, a label system, a design team, a community—

we can create, polish, and release world-class art from the ground up.

Not waiting on approval.

Not waiting on gatekeepers.

Not waiting on someone else to tell us our visions are valuable.

As an engineer, it gives me the skills.

As an artist, it gives me the freedom.

As a human being, it gives me connection.

Because what I’m building isn’t just a studio—

it’s a space where fans and supporters get to be part of the journey in real time.

Where they don’t just listen to the finished album—

they help fuel the creation of it.

That’s why the merch matters.

Why the “Executive Producer” bundles matter.

Why the studio sessions, the open mics, the beach events… all matter.

They aren’t transactions—

they’re bridges between us.

We Are World Builders

If you want to model?

Let’s create.

If you want to direct a video?

Let’s shape a concept.

If you want to write, shoot, vibe, build brands, or experiment?

Let’s make it happen.

This creative house is not an exclusive club.

It’s an invitation.

We have music.

We create content.

We tell stories.

We build ecosystems.

We expand culture.

We are world builders.

And the world we’re creating sits just 30 minutes from the beach—

a place where artistry can breathe, reset, and find peace.

A place where you can disappear from the noise and return with your best work.

A place where the sun, the ocean, the studio, and the vision all move in one rhythm.

This is more than a brand.

More than a merch line.

More than a studio.

This is Ritual & Bass.

A creative house built with intention—

for independence, for expression, for legacy.

And every hoodie sold, every session booked, every show attended…

helps us build something that lasts beyond music.

Something that turns imagination into reality.

Something that belongs to all of us.

A ritual.

A routine.

A movement