By: Norafiqin Hairoman for The Dirt
On any given Tuesday evening in Davis, as the light softens and the workday hum fades into the background, something quietly magical happens inside Dunloe Brewing. Pints are poured. Sketchbooks open. A cart of markers, crayons, colored pencils, and paint pens rolls into the center of the room like a treasure chest on wheels. And strangers, including parents, students, retirees, and toddlers with determined little grips, begin to draw.
Tuesday Drawing Club didn’t start with a grand strategy or a formal launch. It started, as bartender Saul Gonzalez put it, from “just wanting a space to be creative and around other people who like to make things and are supportive of everyone’s styles and crafts and different backgrounds.” From the beginning, Gonzalez told The Dirt, it was meant to be open to everyone—a place where you could meet new people, or simply show up and not feel alone.
That intention of community first has shaped everything since.
Brennan Fleming, owner and brewer, admitted that they didn’t quite foresee what it would grow into. The idea came from Gonzalez and Jonah Skow, bartenders at Dunloe Brewing, and Fleming said he was mostly “just excited that they were excited about doing something. It sounded cool and fit the brewery’s culture.” Then, he added, “they nailed it.” What started as an invitation to draw became something much bigger: “They invited people into the space to draw and ended up creating a pretty wonderful community in the process.”
That sense of pride is palpable on a Tuesday night.
There’s no rigid structure. A cart stocked with free-to-use communal art supplies sits ready for anyone to grab what they need. There’s a weekly optional drawing prompt. Most tables are filled with people sketching or crafting in some way, though, as Skow noted, some folks simply come for the creative ambiance, which is “also sweet.” Depending on the time, it can look busy, even a little hectic. But if you’re new and hoping to meet other creatives, Skow said they’re always happy to introduce you to friends and regulars.
Part of what makes the space special is the absence of distraction. No televisions flickering in the background. Instead, there’s the soft scratch of pencils and the murmur of conversation. Skow believes that the setting plays a big role. “I think it serves as a good avenue for stream-of-consciousness conversation and connecting with new (and familiar) people of similar creative interests, especially in a taproom with no TVs around.”
As adults, he pointed out, it can be surprisingly hard to make new friends. “If you know you have that common ground from the get-go, it can definitely make it easier.”
The walls tell their own story. What began as the occasional favorite piece—something that made the staff laugh or stood out visually—turned into a growing collection. “At the start, there’d be an occasional favorite here and there that we’d stick on the wall,” Skow said, “and it’s just kind of spread over the year with the more and more art we’ve accumulated.” Now the brewery doubles as a rotating gallery of local imagination. And in keeping with the spirit of abundance, there’s an open invitation: if you see a piece you love, feel free to take it home. There’s always more art on the way.
That generosity extends beyond paper and pens. Community, Fleming said, was always the whole point of the brewery. In a roundabout way, Dunloe means common place. “We built long tables to make strangers sit down and become friends over a beer,” he explained. “Community is the cool part of beer.” The welcoming atmosphere for kids and dogs wasn’t an afterthought; it was intentional from the beginning. Brennan added that his own dog helped build the place and comes to the brewery every day to help keep him sane.
On Tuesdays, that openness creates something uniquely cross-generational. It’s not unusual to see kids drawing right alongside adults. When the weekly prompt veers into the weird or goofy, Skow said it was especially entertaining to watch children try to wrap their heads around it and then see what they produce.
“I’m all for anything that inspires creativity in people, especially so in a younger generation,” he said. The results are often surprising, and occasionally profound.
If you’re hesitating because you think you “can’t draw,” you’re not alone. Skow recalled that in the early days, several people insisted they couldn’t draw or had never picked up a pencil before. Some of those same people are now weekly regulars. The focus isn’t on skill. It’s on having fun, strengthening community, and getting your creative wheels spinning no matter your experience level.
That low-pressure invitation is perhaps what keeps people coming back. You don’t have to identify as an artist. You don’t need a portfolio. You just need a seat at the table.
And if Tuesday Drawing Club were a dog breed? Skow and Fleming have an answer ready: a golden doodle. “Cause they can have cool artsy haircuts,” they joked, “but they are goofy like golden retrievers and kinda love everybody.”
It’s hard to imagine a better metaphor. A little artsy. A little silly. Enthusiastically friendly.
In a town that values connection, creativity, and community, Drawing Club feels less like an event and more like a reminder that sometimes, all it takes to feel a little less alone is a blank page and an open seat.
