06/02/2026
True Story🤣
The Birth of Blice Edwards 1993.
After the animal project, we became friends.
Then best friends.
Then something more.
Looking back, it all happened so naturally that I can’t point to a single moment when friendship became love.
I only know that suddenly I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it.
For the first time, I had someone beside me who understood what it meant to be an artist.
Someone who understood the strange need to create things that didn’t exist before.
Someone who believed in possibility as much as I did.
Together, we began dreaming.
At first, the dreams were small.
Just enough work to pay the bills.
Just enough money to survive.
Just enough hope to keep moving forward.
Like many young artists, we had more talent than money.
More ideas than resources.
More ambition than common sense.
Somehow, that combination carried us a long way.
As we began working together, we realized we needed a company name.
That turned out to be harder than expected.
We tossed around ideas.
Some serious.
Some ridiculous.
The more we tried, the less anything felt right.
Finally, after exhausting ourselves with possibilities, we looked at each other and did the simplest thing imaginable.
We used our last names.
And just like that, Blice Edwards was born.
At the time, it felt like a practical decision.
Years later, I would realize it was much more than that.
It was the beginning of a life we would build together.
The funny thing is that when people see a successful business, they often imagine it started with a plan.
Ours started with two artists trying to survive.
We had one car.
Very little money.
Not many clothes.
Not much of anything, really.
But we were young.
We were in love.
We had dreams.
And somehow that felt like enough.
One of my favorite memories comes from those early years.
We had been making clocks and selling them whenever we could.
A client had specifically ordered one.
We were excited.
Relieved, honestly.
We needed the money.
So we loaded it into the car and drove to meet her.
The entire way there we imagined success.
The sale.
The payment.
The next step forward.
Then she looked at the clock.
And she didn’t like it.
That was it.
No sale.
No paycheck.
No miracle.
Just disappointment.
The kind every small business owner knows well.
The problem wasn’t simply that we lost the sale.
The problem was we were broke.
Completely broke.
By the time we got back to the car, we were trying to figure out whether we even had enough gas to get home.
We started searching.
Pockets.
Cup holders.
Ashtrays.
Anywhere a forgotten coin might be hiding.
Eventually we scraped together enough change from the bottom of the car to buy just enough gas to get back home.
Looking back now, I laugh.
At the time, it wasn’t funny.
At the time, it was terrifying.
But those moments shaped us.
Not the successful jobs.
Not the awards.
Not the recognition.
The moments when things fell apart and we kept going anyway.
Those were the moments that built Blice Edwards.
Those were the moments that built us.
The River of Stars rarely moves in a straight line.
Sometimes it carries you through abundance.
Sometimes it carries you through uncertainty.
Sometimes it asks you to trust when there is no evidence that things will work out.
Those early years were full of moments like that.
And somehow, through every wrong turn, every rejected clock, every empty pocket, and every impossible challenge, we kept moving forward.
Not because we knew what we were doing.
Because we believed in what we were building.
And more importantly, we believed in each other.
When I look back now, I don’t remember the money.
I don’t remember the invoices.
I don’t remember the sales.
I remember the ride home.
Two artists.
One car.
A handful of coins.
A dream.
And a future neither of us could yet see.
