The Summer I Swapped Pixels for Pints

If you told me last winter that I’d spend my summer pouring pints instead of designing pixels, I’d have thought that sounds cool, but do I even know enough (or anything) about craft beer? But that’s exactly what happened. When I moved to Door County, I was looking for community—and somehow found it behind the bar at a local brewery. It wasn’t part of the plan, but it turned out to be the perfect creative detour.

I spent the summer surrounded by music, laughter, and chalk dust, drawing tap lists by hand and learning that sometimes stepping away from design is the best way to rediscover why you love it.

From The Pink Couch to The Taproom

When I moved to Door County, I was craving connection. I didn’t know many people here yet, and the brewery felt like the kind of place where good stories (and good beer) were made. I started as a beertender—pouring pints, chatting with regulars, and learning that creativity can look like conversation. When I was hired, I was upfront that I’d never worked behind a bar before—but I also shared that I was a graphic designer and loved the creativity of spaces like breweries and coffee shops. I was asked if I’d be willing to take on the chalkboard tap lists, and I said sure… even though it made me a little nervous. After 20 years of working digitally, something as simple as chalk can feel like a whole different muscle. It wasn’t graphic design in the traditional sense, but it tapped into the same love of color, layout, and storytelling. Each board became a small, temporary piece of art. And somehow, that analog work led me back to digital.

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I also started running the brewery’s Instagram, which became another outlet for creativity—little stories, bits of wit, tiny details captured in a photo or a caption. Whether through chalk or a screen, I found joy in the small things that make people smile.

Lessons in Foam, Flow, and Letting Go

Somewhere between wiping down tables and redrawing beer names for the twenty-fifth time, I learned a few things. Creativity doesn’t disappear—it just shifts shapes. It can live in a chalkboard menu, a well-poured pint, or a short conversation that turns into a new friendship.

I started noticing how often it showed up in small, shared moments—an early bird bingo night with a playful theme, a detail on a board, or a conversation with a musician passing through town.

Sometimes it turned into something a little bigger, like when I transformed an old Kolschip cabin into The Kolschip Court, our unofficial beer pong hall, complete with a hand-painted sign and custom logo on the table.

Stepping away from the design world didn’t mean I lost my creative spark; it meant I was recharging it in a different light. The brewery taught me patience, flexibility, and how to create without overthinking—how to make something fun, enjoy it fully, and move on without clinging too tightly. It reminded me that design isn’t only about pixels and polish. It’s about connection, humor, and paying attention to the people right in front of you.

Hand-lettered chalkboard from my summer at Door County Brewing Co.

Creating Door County Brewing Co's Beer Pong Hall and logo in the middle of the pong table.

Created a custom Early Bird Bingo poster and brand for Door County Brewing Co's winter bingo series

Finding a New Little Crew

Somewhere along the way, the brewery gave me more than just a creative outlet—it gave me a new little crew. This winter, four women will be running the space together, led by our fearless taproom manager and supported by a whole lot of trust, care, and heart.

Before I knew it, my closest coworkers became my neighbors. We check in on each other, share meals, swap stories, and do our best to keep the taps (and our spirits) from freezing over during the long Door County off-season. None of us have family in the immediate area, so we’ve become a bit like that for each other.

It’s funny how a job you take to meet people can turn into finding your people—strong, kind women keeping the beer flowing, the yoga mats rolled out (we host winter yoga on Sunday mornings), and the community warm all winter long.

Back on the Couch (Still Pouring, Just Less Often)

As the leaves changed and the busy season slowed, I started to feel that creative spark tugging again—the one that built Pink Couch in the first place. The brewery gave me what I didn’t know I needed: connection, friendship, a dose of analog art, and a reminder that creativity doesn’t always come from sitting at a desk. Sometimes it shows up in unexpected places—behind a bar, in a conversation, or in the rhythm of showing up for a community day after day.

Now, as winter settles over Door County, I’m ready to get back to designing, illustrating, writing, and dreaming—but with a different kind of energy. A slower one. A more joyful one. I’ll still be at the taproom this winter, just in smaller doses—enough to stay connected to the community that filled my cup in more ways than one.

So here I am—back on the couch, sketchbook on one side, a half-finished coffee on the other, and a pint glass probably somewhere nearby. This summer taught me that creativity doesn’t always look like design work. Sometimes it’s community, friendship, or the simple act of showing up and making space for people.