A single question can power a lifetime of work: Why do I make art? Ty and Nathan sit with Ursula Von Rydingsvard’s stark and generous answers—woven from anxiety, labor, faith in process, and the stubborn hope that making can heal—and use it as a mirror for our own practices. From the first splinter to the last pass of the saw, we look at how big work invites big stakes, why the best days feel like discovery, and how the studio becomes a container strong enough to hold whatever we bring into it. We dig into the creative toggle between object and process: when materials feel right but the method frays, and when the method sings but the object won’t land. That friction is feedback, not failure. Ursula’s line about having confidence in the possibility of seeing the work through reframes ambition without guarantees—an artist’s version of resilience. We also talk about self-doubt as a companion rather than an enemy, and how studying our heroes deeply—films, books, museum visits—feeds our own artistic DNA without imitation. There’s a human infrastructure behind monumental art. Ursula’s assistants form another kind of family, proof that leadership in the studio is its own craft. We reflect on daily rhythm, showing up without perfect conditions, and making pieces that may outlive us—which is how work reaches into the future. The conversation edges into generational pain and the unanswerable questions art dares to hold. Answers are rare; presence is everything. If you’ve ever needed permission to trust the process and keep going, consider this your sign. If this resonated, follow the show, share it with a friend who needs a creative nudge, and leave a quick review—tell us your “why” so we can feature it in a future Q&A.