Case 010

the secret files of new york art detective

Walter Lin P.I.

The Boston Tea Party Job

It started back in 2018, in a coffee shop tucked into Honiton—the Boston Tea Party. The kind of place that hums with quiet conversations and the scent of roasted beans, where my prints hung on the walls, catching glances but never holding onto them for long. That exhibition left a mark, though—one that stuck in my mind, whispering the same question every time I passed the space: what could I make for this place that felt permanent, grounded, like it belonged?

Becky, the manager, was the key. I brought the idea to her, and she didn’t blink—just nodded, told me to see what I could come up with. That’s how the last two and a half weeks have gone—head down, hands busy, pulling threads out of the ether and weaving them into something real. A triptych. Three pieces meant to hold their ground in the front room, visible from the street like a beacon.

Frantic and Firsts

The ideas came in waves—frantic, scattered, each one chasing the next. By the time I caught my breath, I had three developed. It wasn’t calm, but it was enough. The next step? Printing. This time, it’s different. No paper, no conventional ground to land on. I’m going straight to wood, a surface with heft, something that feels like it belongs in a space like Boston’s.

It’s new territory. Printing on wood, varnishing the work for durability—it’s a challenge, no doubt about it. But that’s the thrill, isn’t it? Something different, something that makes you lean forward and wonder if you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. I don’t mind the tension. It’s what keeps the work alive.