Recently, veteran YouTuber, OG maker, and self-proclaimed Janitor of LA Laura Kampf released an outstanding video, “Screen Print MacGyver Style...using Tape and Wood Glue”:
It’s exactly what it sounds like. And it’s beautiful.
Why it hit me so hard was this:
It reminded me — viscerally — of the kind of creative spirit I have.
The way I solve problems. How I move through space. How I use my hands.
Give me papers, markers, and tape and I’ll take over a room. Turning it into a three-dimensional canvas of notes, checklists, diagrams, taped-up scraps, color-coded chaos — a physical overworld map of potential yet to be realized. A place where big ideas form through tiny tasks.
This is how I work.
How I feel closer to the likes of Kampf, Sachs, Neistat, Diresta, and Savage than I do to many of my designer and developer peers out there. My workshop. My tools. My materials. My medium. They just happen to live inside the digital— through pixels, code, and interactions within world of web design and development.
Tinker
But what also made Laura’s video special wasn’t just the task — screen printing a thing.
It was the reflection.
The commentary.
The quiet wisdom in the contrast between past Laura and present Laura.
“Past baby Laura… she had a Cricut or something? It cut the most intricate designs.”
“Present Laura has gotten older. Lazier. Don’t have time for that anymore… I always try to get away with the least amount of effort possible and see how the result is. If the result’s not satisfying, I can step it up a bit.”
Getting away with the least amount of effort possible.
That’s it.
At first blush, it sounds like laziness — especially since she uses that word. But the results say otherwise.
What she’s really saying is:
Use what you have. Start where you are. Don't let perfection get in the way of momentum.
Don’t wait for the gear to make you legitimate. Make something legit out of what you’ve got.
It’s not laziness. It’s efficiency. It’s iterative clarity. It’s precision. Earned.
It’s what happens after years of trying, failing, learning, and learning again. You start to know which shots matter. You stop chasing the idealized “right way.” You stop romanticizing the promise of how (you think) things are "supposed" to be.
You trust your hands. Your eyes. Yourself.
Go
The maker’s room isn’t a shrine. It’s a collision lab. Scraps are not trash; they’re futures with stage fright. Give them a corner, some glue, ten seconds of reckless courage—and watch them show you who they are.
Can you prototype something in 15 minutes instead of spending two days researching and theorizing?
Cool. Do that.
If the 15 minute prototype teaches you the wrong lesson? Fantastic—wrong lessons are cheaper at 15 minutes vs. 3 months. The real risk isn’t “getting it wrong.” The real risk is never switching from talk to walk.
Can you sketch the shape of an idea before writing the perfect pitch deck?
Do that too.
Can you build momentum by making something scrappy instead of waiting until it’s “worth sharing”?
Cool! Do! That!
Because the point isn’t to make an impression. It's to make. Period.
And when it works? (Oh boy!) Especially when it’s rough? Especially when it came together in under ten minutes?
There’s nothing like it.
Build
It’s not about getting it right. It’s about making it real. Getting in there. Moving your hands. Following the energy. Sharing the mess. And maybe sparking something in someone else.
And most of all — for me, anyway — it’s about getting out of your own damn way.
“Let’s do it. Let’s commit!”
Yes, Laura. Heck yes.
For the tinkerers who make a thing out of nothing and then do it again for dessert — with tape ready and fingers smudged with Sharpie.
Measure twice. Commit to the cut. Take the leap.
Make something great.
