PROGRESS REPORT

Art: Courtney Perets

Courtney Takes Over

Hi, Courtney here! I spend most days immersed in type and color, courting carpal tunnel with every mouse click. Offscreen, I’m taste-testing my way through dessert recipes, stretching the ol’ limbs in all kinds of movement classes, and soaking up quality time with friends and family.

An artist or thinker worth following.

Linda Linko.

I’ve been following Linda for years and years—originally drawn to her more graphic expressions and illustrations. Over time, I’ve watched her evolve into more of a conceptual artist and, recently, I finally bought my first real piece (not a print!) from her.

I tend to chase perfection (for better or worse), but something about her work always feels freeing. It’s loose, expressive, and playful—full of raw honesty and spontaneity. It speaks to something my spirit craves.

This video of her process shows how intuitive her approach is—she just follows where the work takes her, without overthinking.

She says, “I know I’ve done a good job if I constantly come back to it.” Instead of forcing things, she creates with freedom—and if something keeps drawing her in, that’s her signal it’s working. There’s something really powerful in that: the idea that you don’t need to control everything for it to be right—you just need to feel it.

Something that sparked my curiosity this month (and why it matters).

Blind contour drawings—where you draw the outline of a subject without looking at your paper—are surprisingly tricky and strangely freeing.

I just started a five-week adult drawing class down the block from my new home in Philadelphia. We only briefly touched on blind contour exercises, but they’ve stuck with me. There’s something about removing the pressure to make something “good” that lets your thoughts move differently. It forces you to slow down, to really observe, and to be okay with imperfection.

That looseness felt like a creative unlock—almost meditative. It got me thinking about how we can bring that same energy into the strategy and design space. What if we let ourselves sketch ideas without polishing them right away? What if we trusted gut instincts before applying frameworks or structure? There’s value in letting things feel a little messy at first—because sometimes, that’s where the best ideas begin.

A local business I’m obsessed with.

Meetinghouse in Philly.

Meetinghouse recently snagged Bon Appetit’s Best New Restaurant award in 2024—but honestly, that’s not what I’m most excited about.

What really stands out to me is the incredible attention to detail. The graphic elements aren’t just for printed materials—they’re woven into the entire space. The same illustrations that appear on the matchbooks and merch transform into a stained glass window that welcomes you in, then reappear as custom tiles lining the bar, blending medieval vibes with a modern twist.

The cherry on top? The artist behind it all is a longtime favorite of mine—the illustrator, Keith Shore, who’s been making work for Mikkeller Brewery for over a decade. Yes, I did visit one of the breweries in Copenhagen and "steal" a cup because they wouldn’t sell it to me. No, I don’t regret it.

And then there’s the menu. It’s a short form menu that takes inspiration from the past. The night I met the owner, he told me he spends hours digging through vintage menus (like these) for inspiration. One of my favorite desserts there—his grandma’s baked pineapple—came straight from the back of a can, à la 1950s recipes. Even when it seems like everything’s been done before, someone comes along and reimagines it. As I always “look back to go forward,” these sorts of spaces and places pull at my context-craving heartstrings.

News that has given me pause lately, and what I'm doing about it.

One of my favorite bands of the past 15 years—Tennis—is calling it quits.

The husband-and-wife duo, known for their nostalgic, sun-soaked pop sound, really shaped a certain era of my early adulthood. Loving that genre felt like a key part of my identity back then, and I’d see them live anytime they came through town.

Hearing they’re ending the project gave me pause. But it’s also opened me up to a new idea: sometimes endings aren’t failures, they’re necessary. Even in something as personal and long-running as a creative pursuit, it’s okay to step away.

It reminded me that letting go can be an act of clarity. You don’t have to belabor a good thing just because it’s familiar. Sometimes making space—emotionally or creatively—is the only way to invite in what’s next.

News that has given me hope lately, and what I'm doing about it.

Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya has gotten a one-man remake.

Uncle Vanya is a seminal play by Anton Chekhov, first published in 1897. It’s been adapted for both stage and screen countless times, but most recently by Simon Stephens—starring Andrew Scott (a.k.a. my reason for seeing it).

This version was staged at one of my favorite theaters in NYC, the Lucille Lortel Theatre. The bathrooms leave a lot to be desired, but otherwise, the space has an incredible intimacy. You hear every footstep on stage, every rustle from the audience, and sometimes even the subway rumbling beneath the West Village streets.

What’s most interesting about this adaptation is how it came to be. During rehearsal, the script was misallocated and Scott ended up reading multiple parts. That "mistake" revealed something: how much the characters mirror each other. And though they’re fully distinct roles, the different voices coming out of a single person felt like one spiraling mind—interlaced like the kind of internal dialogue we all carry.

It’s a perfect example of how something unexpected—even a simple mix-up—can lead to a more powerful, inventive idea. Sometimes, the best outcomes spring from happy accidents.

About Progress Report

Progress Report is a bi-weekly newsletter of business considerations, cultural conversations, and fun recommendations from around the world and web.