Joseph Francis was alone in Greenport during the winter of 2022 when he painted the iconic movie poster image of the shark in Steven Spielberg’s “Jaws” onto a knife sheath — and realized he might have stumbled onto something.

The longtime chef, newly sober, had rediscovered his childhood love of art. Now he was looking at an ordinary knife cover in an entirely new way.

It was a canvas.

“This could be a business,” he thought.

Four years later, Francis, 47, is the owner of Mojo Studio, an eclectic new venture tucked away on the second floor of a building in an alley off Front Street in Greenport. Mojo is an imaginative mix of knife shop, art gallery and classroom, reflecting Francis’ lifelong interests in cooking, knives and modern art.

Bold, eye-catching paintings and prints line the studio walls, many incorporating actual chef’s knives. Elegant glass cases display premium kitchen blades with elaborately decorated sheaths featuring everything from Japanese-inspired designs to Anthony Bourdain, tarot cards and comic-book characters.

Francis sharpens knives, sells them and teaches customers how to care for them. He also offers culinary workshops, drawing on nearly three decades of experience in restaurant kitchens.

But the most compelling thing about Mojo Studio may be the man who created it, and the long, winding road that brought him here.

A chef with an artist’s heart

Francis grew up in Little Ferry, New Jersey, the youngest of five children in an entrepreneurial family. His father operated food trucks and other businesses, including a comic-book shop. Both his parents were top shelf cooks. As a boy, Francis was captivated by comic-book illustrations, studying how artists drew figures and faces.

He was equally fascinated by knives. A shop beside a comic-book store his family frequented in Bergen, N.J. sold replicas associated with movies such as “Rambo” and “Cobra.” Francis collected, displayed and polished them.

His interests seemed unrelated, but would eventually form the foundation of his new business. Cooking, meanwhile, offered a side hustle way while he exercised his creativity.

For years, Francis worked in restaurants in Manhattan and Jersey City, including establishment owned by celebrated restaurateur Danny Meyer. Among the many restaurant kitchens he worked were Eleven Madison Park and the Ritz-Carlton.

He learned from renowned chefs, including the late Floyd Cardoz, whom he recalled this week as an especially generous mentor.

But behind the swinging kitchen doors were punishing hours, relentless pressure and an unforgiving demand for perfection.

“That was the highlight and the low point too,” he said of those years. “Because all that was? Was keeping up.”

For all the action and creativity that drew him into cooking, there was little time for his own art. By 2019, Francis was ready for something different. He moved to the North Fork, drawn to its farms, vineyards, waterfront and restaurant scene. He always admired the West Coast Napa Valley food and wine scene, and here was an East Coast alternative.

The change of scenery was great, but it alone couldn’t do the trick for him.

Chris Francescani photos

Finding his way back

The COVID-19 pandemic hit shortly after Francis moved east. Isolated and struggling, he became seriously ill and was hospitalized. He also learned he had diabetes. In 2022, he entered rehab.

It was there, in one of the darkest periods of his life, that he rediscovered something he had largely abandoned since childhood: His art. The rehab facility had an art room, and Francis was drawn to it like a magnet. He began painting, drawing and writing poetry and short stories.

“That was my rehab,” he said.

After treatment, Francis returned to Greenport and resumed working in restaurants, including Claudio’s. But something had changed.

He kept painting. When the busy summer season ended, he found himself alone in employee housing again, with time to experiment.

That was the genesis of the “Jaws” sheath. It got him thinking.

Why couldn’t the protective cover of a kitchen knife become a piece of art? And why couldn’t someone who had spent decades using knives professionally build a business around them?

Francis began experimenting with designs, researching techniques and filling composition notebook after notebook with ideas, reminders and goals. There were no grand promises – just achievable daily tasks.

“I want to get done with these things today,” he remembers telling himself. “I will create something different tomorrow.”

He built a website. A social media presence. New designs. Better materials. Another customer. Another sale.

“Checklist, checklist, checklist,” he said.

His artwork began attracting attention online. An Anthony Bourdain-themed design was particularly popular, selling fast and drawing interest from other chefs and knife collectors.

A knife enthusiast in the Netherlands featured his work on YouTube. Closer to home, supporters Jason Wilhelm and Rena Casey-Wilhelm at The Weathered Barn, around the corner from his new shop, began displaying and selling his pieces. They, too, sold quickly.

Francis continued working in restaurants while steadily developing Mojo as a brand. All the while, he kept imagining a physical studio.

Chris Francescani photos

A dream at the top of the stairs

Francis first visited the second-floor property that would become Mojo Studio when an friend was occupying it. He reached the top step of the stars and instantly saw its possibilities.

Later, walking through the alley off Front Street, he saw a ‘For Rent’ sign, serendipitously ran into the landlord and asked for a price.

“I’ll take it.’”

He went straight home, wrote a check and came back with it.

On his first day in the new space, the room was empty. Francis sat on the only chair in the place and spun around, imagining what it could become.

For weeks, he experimented with displays, materials and designs before landing on a plan: combine his decorated knives with larger artworks incorporating or featuring actual blades. Today, those creations line the studio walls.

Some are dark and moody, others riotously colorful, with Japanese motifs, tattoo-inspired imagery, pop-culture references and surreal compositions (there’s even a knife sheath print of an actual composition notebook).

Francis doesn’t forge the knives himself. Instead, he sources quality blades, sometimes modifying them, and concentrates his artistic energy on the sheaths and accompanying artwork.

The studio connects him to his culinary roots. Customers can bring in knives for sharpening or learn culinary skills, like slicing and preparing gnocchi, to finish cooking at home.
Always hustling, Francis still sometimes takes restaurant and catering work.

“I am still a chef,” he said.

But now the kitchen no longer dictates the rhythms of his life.

Running Mojo is hardly a layup, despite his palpable enthusiasm. Francis handles the artwork, marketing, website, displays, customers and countless other details himself. He has little patience for the old saw that ‘if you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life.’

“That’s bullshit,” he said, breaking into a rare grin. “You’re working, man. If you love it, you’re working.”

Mojo is still a young business, and passion alone doesn’t guarantee success. Yet after surviving alcoholism, rebuilding his life and turning a wintertime experiment into a full-time Greenport storefront, Francis seems thoroughly comfortable with the uncertainty.

After decades of working in other people’s kitchens, he finally has a place entirely his own.