Tiny Talk with Travis Nichols

There’s a ton of personality in everything you make (?!) and you make a lot. What gives you the energy (or whatever else it is) to do this?

I’m a serial hobbyist. When I get into something, I immediately get all of the stuff, do the thing… and move on. Using that video as an example—I really got into piezoelectric noise boxes via YouTube, and a couple days in, I ordered some pickups from a cigar box guitar shop. A few days after that, I was cutting up a toy ukulele and adding a bunch of junk.

And when a fella hobbies and hobbies and hobbies, they start overlapping and building on and informing each other. In 2014, I was into cigar box guitars, and in 2024, I bought a cheap bass and some pedals to play in a band at a wedding. Those two things fed directly into 2025’s noise box hobby. I haven’t made another noise box, but I feel like I’ll come back around to in later on.

It’s also true for broad, this-is-my-life-now stuff. I got into clown last year, and I immediately fell in love. Like love-love. And part of the speed and intensity and all-consuming-ness of it is that so much of what I’ve done before has informed it. Performing in bands and putting on art shows in my 20s, writing books in my 30s. Anyway, do you have any questions about ghosts?

If you could haunt one place as a ghost, where would it be and why?

I’m back. The Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, but only if I could also pop in to the Tonga Room a block away every couple of weeks. When I lived in San Francisco, I’d go to the Grace as often as I could. I’d sit, I’d walk the labyrinths, I’d listen to choirs practice. It was incredibly peaceful. And the Tonga Room is only .1 miles away. Surely a ghost could make an occasional pop over to catch a little live jazz on a floating stage.

My other option is an art supply store that also has onigiri. I’m sure that’s a thing somewhere.

I saw a reel (or story?) you recently posted of a little doodle book you made as a kid. Even then, it seems clear you had a clever and funny perspective. What would that kid think of you now? 

I think he’d be stoked that I’m still doing stuff he loves. He might be a little disappointed that I’m not a Muppeteer and that I don’t have a TV show. But I have like three guitars and a girlfriend, so maybe that would make up for it.

Is it important to love what you make? I’ve hated some things I’ve made that got popular. Conversely, some of my “best” work has been completely slept on. Is there something you feel like you did perfectly but was under appreciated?

Yeah, same same same. Side note, I’ve hated a lot of books I’ve written right after they came out, and I always justify it by saying that I’m a better writer and illustrator than the guy who made that thing. Is that healthy or very not?

I poured my heart, soul, and guts into The Terribles series (REMEMBER THIS PART, REMEMBER THIS PART), and I was really hopeful that the three books would do well enough that I could do three more. But… yeah. I mean, it was published, and I’m proud of it. Loved the people I worked with on it. I did events and school visits. Some sold, certainly. Buuuuut it just didn’t HIT like I wished it would.

Meanwhile, a book I was a hired gun illustrator on in 2012 still sells tens of thousands of copies per year. If I had a standard royalty contract on it… let’s just say I’d be doing this interview on a 13 inch iPad rather than an 11 inch.