Sunday, 25 January 2015

Finally, a studio again.

It takes so much longer than I think it will to make a corner in the world where I can sit and think. I so long to be one of those who can work anywhere, sit in any chair, write with any pen.  But, I am not.  I need my things around me and a certain sense of myself in the space.

This is not to say that I have never written on an airplane, on my lap in the passenger seat of Kirsten's Toyota truck.  Of course I have.  This is not to say that I cannot draw and paint on the sidewalk in Montmartre.  I can.  But when it comes to working here, at home, I need a little corner of quiet and a few layers of my history around me.

So here you have it: Paints, stamps, more than one pen.  A candle, a date stamp, a cup of coffee gone cold.  The ever present journals.  And behind me?  A wall of cookbooks.

I think I like it here.

All this change.

In the last few months, I have touched everything we own.  Moving from our home to the tiny house across the street so we can witness and watch this massive renovation plan, we packed and packed, unpacked and repacked, all to set our lives into half the space for one year.  I have fallen in love with this little house.  It is a gem. Circa 1948, it has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room and a kitchen.  Years ago, the front bedroom was the neighborhood beauty salon with an exterior door, now bolted closed.  Between the living room and the kitchen is the tiniest little niche that must have masqueraded as a dining room before I claimed it for a studio.  It is all of 8'x4', but, with double windows and a three-prong plug for the lamp and the stereo (the computer and printer reach by a power strip to another plug outside the space).

It has taken me weeks to get this settled down and in.  Sorting papers and pencils and pens and paints, I have wondered if I would be able to paint in this space at all...but here I am.  And yes, I can.

So this morning I posted on artcards.tumblr.com for the first time in over a year.  And now, here I am with you, Miss. Kelly.  I wish you could see this little house and its tiny studio.  I would take you on the four-and-a-half-room tour.  Make you a mimosa in the green kitchen.  Point across the street to the house you imagine I am in and laugh over the plans for its renovation.  New kitchen.  New guest rooms.  New master bedroom.  New porch.  New studio.

And a year from now, I will spread out again into a bigger space for art and writing than I have ever known.  But for now, just a little pass through space between the living room and the kitchen will do just fine.  It's mine.  It's here.  And so am I.

I love you, Miss Kelly....wish you were here, too.