Studio Chronicles

 

It is wonderful to be in my new studio.  It is terrible to be in my new studio.  The space is good, with two big windows letting in tons of light.  I have most of my equipment in place…a painting table on wheels, a desk for my computer, a purple easy chair in the corner for pondering and the occasional cat nap… a white utility sink in the corner.  Unfinished paintings lean against the wall begging for my undivided attention.  Rolls of paper, some with old drawings and some completely and nakedly white lay on the floor…waiting.

It always takes a while for the work to “kick in.”  The trick is to arrive at the studio and STAY at the studio no matter how restless or distracted I may be.   You have to establish a schedule and then stick to it.  I Know the pattern of a new space.  I will spend many hours organizing, sorting, thinking, stalling, and likely make some really bad art. There will be the ritual task of looking over my old drawings…hoping for inspiration or the rebirth of an idea long ago set aside.   I know that sooner or later, something will spark my interest and I must be here to welcome it.  The building I am in has many units filled with artists, craftsmen, hobbiests, and others engaging in mysterious enterprises.  Sometimes I hear people talking, coming in and out,... working around me.  I am not alone and that helps.

But right now, I’d rather go to Goodwill and look for a hammer.   I’d rather take Roxy for a walk along the Burke Gilman Trail and get myself a latte.  Talk to someone on the phone.  Go on the internet.  As I unpack my boxes, I find some treasures…like art-related knick knacks people have given me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have a drawer designated for my Mona Lisa collection.  There is the box with the label, “Art Supplies  Amy,” handwritten by my mother and discovered in the cellar of our old house while on a tour given by the new owner.  And where to put the picture of the Pope?  It was painted by my father and presented to me, most ceremoniously, by my mother years after his death.   I’ve always had a little trouble figuring out where to hang his Holiness …such a precious gift yet so odd a subject for this ex-Catholic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sorting pencils.  This turns out to be my first task of the day.  I have plastic storage containers of various sizes filled with drawing and writing instruments, all mixed up.  I divide them into four, no five, general categories.  Pens, pencils, drawing pencils, colored pencils, and markers.  The pencil drawer bothers me.  While I can imagine using all the other supplies, what am I going to do with a couple hundred “regular” 2H pencils?  You know the ones I’m talking about…the yellow ones you take tests with.  I think about donating them to my students but then remember that I discourage them from using pencils like that.

Task #2.  Sorting, categorizing, and counting my salsa prints.  While I do this, I think about marketing.

Today I finally began a project I’ve been dreaming about.  I want to draw a life size elephant.  I don’t have any paper big enough so I’m basically going to do a contour drawing on multiple pieces.  I like the idea of using components.  That way I can potentially swap out to a different media…and easily transport the entire piece to another location.  I begin by finding a good reference photo of me and Moon Pat because this will be no generic elephant, but MY elephant...the one I got to know in Chiang Mai.   Judging my height vs. his, I figure he’s about 7 feet tall and 9 feet wide.  This is going to be fun.  I tell my students that drawing is a physical exercise, not just a mental exercise…and working on this scale brings that home.  I have to use a step ladder to reach the top and my entire body to make lines.  The beginning feels good.