Small beginnings
When I first dipped my toe into the art world, it was through classes taken at a community art center. My studio was the dining room table. Piles of mail, newspapers, stray socks and keys periodically invaded, as with no center hall, the dining room was the main path through the house. Uncertain of my right to claim space as an artist, I would clean up all my supplies after each painting session.
What started as a hobby and creative release quickly grew into something more serious and intentional. Little by little I took over the space, and even wedged a beautiful Charles Brand Press into the basement, bought with the proceeds from my first solo exhibit at a local library. From watercolor to poured inks, mixed media to my introduction to monotypes and printmaking, I managed to slowly carve out a place for myself and my art.
Jumping in
Within a few years, I was all-in, and I took the plunge to find an outside studio space. I rented in a former factory building, four flights up, with tall ceilings, huge windows, and wide plank wood floors. Shared with three other artists, the Brand press held pride of place in the center of the room. I could feel my spirit expand and breathe in this dedicated space in which to create. I could take off my mom-hat, spouse-hat, everything-other-than-artist hat and think, explore, and work… uninterrupted.
After five years of shared studio space I moved to a smaller but private studio. The sink was down and around a corner, ballet music played nonstop across the hall. I had a professional exhaust system put in to work comfortably with encaustic and took out a closet door to add much needed storage racks. I reveled in the art cocoon I entered every time I walked in and closed that door behind me.
Changing times
As my children grew up and into their own lives, my schedule became more flexible. I often found myself heading to the studio in the late afternoon. A twenty minute drive from my house meant that I was reluctant to take the break that I wanted at 8 p.m. and return after. Little by little certain projects and materials migrated back to the house and the dining room table once again became a late night studio.
Often I had to figure out whether work needed for an exhibit was at the house or the studio. I got tired of lugging tree slices and cradled panels up and down 4 flights of stairs. I was privy almost daily to angry fights between father and son in the next studio over. A martial arts studio took over when the ballet academy vacated and soon shouts and grunts and pounding music dominated and reverberated through my studio walls.
“Meanwhile my work, materials and processes shifted and my needs changed”
Meanwhile my work, materials and processes shifted and my needs changed. I realized that certain projects required space, equipment and expertise that required outside resources. I could not drill and burn tree slices in the studio, could not set up a wet and messy papermaking area, could not print the nine-foot-long gampi panels in the space I had. I reluctantly began considering a studio change…
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