Farewell to my old studio

Moving is always a bittersweet experience. You are caught between fond memories of your old life but excited by imaginings of the new one. My life circumstances have shifted, and I am now now bidding farewell to the studio I have enjoyed for the past 12 years. It has been located in the spacious walkout basement of the house my husband and I have been renting in Holliston, Massachusetts, and this proximity has been one of its best features. No need to drive anywhere or even get dressed; I could just pad downstairs in my pajamas and stretch a canvas or add a layer.

While I will miss this room, it is time to move on to new artistic adventures. I have to admit, I am excited to be getting a fresh start! For a moment, though, I want to take one last look back and give thanks for the opportunity I had to work here.

So long, it's been good to know you!

Back when it was set up and ready to work in ... 

Wrapping up

I am beginning the task of closing up my current studio in anticipation of an upcoming move next spring. It is with mixed feelings that I do so; this space has served me well over the past 11 years, as you can read from this earlier post. I will definitely look back on my time here with fond memories.

However, I am also feeling the need to move on to something new. We artists know the direct if sometimes subconscious effect that one's working space has on the artwork that's produced there. It's probably a good time in my career to shake things up. We'll see what the future holds!

In the meantime, I'm sorting through the flotsam and jetsam of more than a decade of a dedicated studio practice, trying to honestly evaluate what needs to be discarded and what needs to move along with me.

My studio in its heyday (shot in 2014)

Rejunvenated studio

Fourth of July holiday weekend! A good time for barbeques and fireworks, right? Well, I admit, I'd rather be organizing my studio! Here are some views of the finished product.

I moved several of my tables to the sides of the room, and now I have more space to move around in. And more space to invite new ideas into my work!

Then I moved my shelving units together along one wall, which also frees up physical and mental space.

And finally I created a comfortable corner to curl up in and contemplate.

Now I'm all ready to plunge into some new canvases!

Out of hibernation

This week I'm getting back to the studio, after a hiatus of two months. It's just been determined that this is officially Boston's snowiest winter on record, and my recent lifestyle has been a reflection of the season! Between bi-weekly bouts of helping my husband to shovel out our driveway, I've spent a lot of time curled up under the covers, reading and reading! (For the record, I've polished off "Our Mutual Friend" and "David Copperfield" by Charles Dickens, and "Jude the Obscure" by Thomas Hardy.)

But just because I haven't touched brush to canvas for a while, that doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about painting! I have page after page of sketches and ideas for how to proceed at the easel.

A few days ago, I got to my annual session of super-cleaning and organizing my studio (a tradition that usually happens every January), and now I'm ready to get going. Last night I stretched a canvas and made some tracings, and tonight I applied the first layer to the first canvas in a series. Here's the first stage:

This series will be closeups of paintings from a 2013 grouping called "Markings" (see "Scrawl 2," the initial inspiration, below). I am figuring that by focusing tightly on the basic calligraphy of those earlier pieces, the emphasis will be on the simple beauty of the lines and the intriguing (hopefully) way in which they cut through the square canvas. I will string a group of them together so that the squares build into a long row. By using only flat black on white, I'm hoping the marks will seem to float like dramatic, abstract almost-words across the gallery wall. We'll see how this direction develops. Meanwhile, it feels good to get back to painting!

"Scrawl 2," acrylic on canvas, 30" square, 2013

Autumn studio visit

What every artist dreams of: a quiet, secluded studio; a commitment-free day to work; and a series in progress that's going well, ready to jump into. I feel privileged to say, that is the situation I'm looking at today.

I especially enjoy my studio at this time of year, when the weather is temperate enough to open the door to the outside, and the serene back yard takes on the autumn colors of the season's peak. Here are some views out the door, and a look at the "bubble drawings" I'm currently working on.

Time to put on some soothing music and apply pencil to paper!
 

Let the sun shine in!

Look at those colors!

Series in progress

Studios I Have Known

This week I've been going through old photographs in order to prepare for an artist talk, and in doing so I've come across, among other things, pictures of my various studio spaces over the years. Seeing them revealed a lot to me about my creative process and the ways in which my work has changed over the years. It's striking to realize what a critical impact your studio has on your art! Here are my three favorite spaces.

This was my studio when I was a graduate student at UMass Dartmouth. It was located in a former gymnasium on Purchase Street in New Bedford (before the Star Store was renovated to accommodate UMD's art program). There were large windows and expansive walls, so I was able to spread out and make bigger works than I had before. (You can see my tiny easel abandoned against the wall.) It was also the former space of my friend Domenic who had graduated before me, and whose work I greatly admired, so I think he left me good vibes floating around the space as well!

New Bedford studio, 1995-7

After graduate school, I was told by fellow artists about studios available in the various mill buildings in Fall River, left vacant when the textile industry moved to the southern states and finally overseas. I contacted the realty office at the King Philip Mill on Kilburn Street, who offered me the space pictured below. "One hundred and fifty dollars a month," the office manager said, and I quickly filled out the first month's check before she realized what I was sure had been a mistake.

The space looked out over a calming pond, and sunlight streamed through the north-facing windows. I was able to work on an even larger scale here, as you can tell by the painting leaning against one of the columns, and my imagery quickly expanded in reflection of the change. (This view shows only half of the space!)

Fall River studio, 1997-2002

Five years later, I moved to the Framingham, Massachusetts, area. It took several tries to find the right studio, but once I did, I've stayed for 10 years (and counting). This space is smaller than the behemoths I worked in before, but it is still sizable. Best of all, it's located right in my home, so I can paint any time of day, even 3 AM (more often than not!). I still have the light of bright windows overlooking nature, plus a big sink and many built-in storage racks. It works so well for me!

Holliston studio, 2004 to present

One day, I expect, life events will propel me along to a new studio. But I'll always look back fondly at these three locations where I was so productive and happy!

New year's broom sweeps clean

It's an annual ritual for artists: with the new year, many of us decide it's time to reorganize and clean up the studio in anticipation of another year of discovery and creation. I've spent my weekend doing this, and am quite pleased with the result. Below are some views of my freshly neatened space. To find out how I got here in the first place, click here to read a post from 2010 detailing the labyrinthian path that led me to this destination!

View from the entrance

Storage for paintings, tools and paint bottles

Three tables, plus a fourth out of view to the left, give me plenty of room to work

View from the back door

Now it's time to MAKE SOME ART!!

Morning has broken

A peaceful morning begins in my studio. The sun is gently rising over the open, green backyard. The birds are stirring, but not much else. I've just applied the first layers on a new canvas.



I'm starting a new series on larger-than-usual canvases; the one on my table is 56" high x 40" wide. I usually work on smaller surfaces, like 40" x 30", but I realize that size is too restrictive for me right now. With that realization, even the 56x40 seems small! In fact, I've applied for a grant that would cover the purchase of 72" x 60" canvases. We'll see what comes!

But right now, there is just ... right now. Me, this painting, and a new day.

How I came to love my basement studio at home: a documentary

“Do you think you could use the basement as your studio?”

My husband asked me that innocent question 6 years ago, when we were looking at the house we are currently renting.

At the time, however, I was a studio snob. “No way,” I responded dismissively. How professional would that make me look? When people asked me where my studio was, and I told them “in my basement,” I’d sound like an idiot. Or worse, a hobbyist.

So I did what seemed like the smart thing to do: I rented a space at a mill building filled with artists, located near my house.

It didn’t take long for me to realize my mistake. My studio neighbor on one side was a weird guy who obviously lived in his space (illegal) and was constantly microwaving awful-smelling foods for his meals. My neighbors across the hall were doing heavy-duty renovations in their space, and there was always slamming and banging, day in and day out. They were also constantly yelling into their cell phones, and I couldn’t get their loud one-sided conversations out of my head, even though I blasted music through my headphones.

I tried to stick with it, telling myself how serious and professional I must be, to have my own studio in a building especially for artists. But in actuality, I wasn’t encountering any artists, just a lot of loud and unpleasant neighbors.

Then one early Sunday morning, there was a loud banging on my studio door. My heart jumped; I had been “in the zone” and hadn’t expected such an abrupt interruption. Before I could reach the door, it flew open and in burst a policeman, who demanded, “Where’s Jimmy?”

I answered as calmly as possible that I had no idea who Jimmy was.

“Well, tell him we’re looking for him,” the cop demanded as he slammed back out the door, apparently not taking note of the fact that I could hardly locate someone I didn’t know.

That was pretty much the last straw. After six months of this madness, I asked myself, how bad could it be to work in my basement? Besides, that would free up the money I was spending on studio rent to be better spent on art supplies. So, with a great sense of relief, I gave my notice and moved my art supplies and studio furnishings to my home.

I soon realized that I had misjudged the basement; in fact, it made a perfect studio. There were large windows along one wall, and a door that opened out onto a beautiful backyard. Our resourceful landlords had built wooden shelving units against the walls that happened to be the perfect size for storing paintings. There was also a work-bench built against one wall, with shelves underneath that were perfect for holding works on paper, and many light fixtures and electric sockets throughout the room. The landlords had even left two huge tables down there, which were great supplements to the three tables I already had. And there was a huge sink down there, so brushes could be easily washed.

This studio has allowed me to establish and sustain a most productive working schedule and process. It is quiet and peaceful (ironically, considering my experience at the mill building, those are my greatest needs as an artist!). In the 5 years I have been working down here, the space has been nothing but pleasant and supportive … truly IDEAL.

Best of all, whenever the urge to paint hits, I don’t have to drive anywhere. I can pad downstairs in my pajamas and get to it. (Although I have to keep reminding myself to change into my painting shoes, or whatever I have on my feet will soon be splattered with paint.)

So what if it sounds unprofessional to say that you paint in your basement. My work speaks for itself. I appreciate the fact that I have been able to work consistently and with devotion, concentration and a sense of freedom. I know I am safe there, to make mistakes, to let my guard down, to do what I need to do to work out what I want to say on canvas.

And after all, what more can an artist ask of a studio?

Here are some photos: My cat, Petey, leads the way down to the basement.




There are plenty of built-in shelving units, perfect for painting storage:










There's a built-in workbench, with shelves underneath to hold works on paper. The pegboard against the wall is great for hanging small works:




These two large windows let in plenty of natural light:




This door leads out to ...




A beautiful, secluded backyard:




Additional shelving units hold art supplies and some of my teaching materials:




So, as it turns out, my wise husband was right all along!

Vermeer would sneer

There's a lot of stuff in my studio to paint with, but very little of it could be considered "real" art supplies.

My "palettes" are the bottom halves of a bunch of cut-up old gallon spring water containers.

The supports for my paintings to keep them off the tables (allowing for more even drying) are old cardboard Laughing Cow cheese containers.

My "brushes" are plastic ketchup bottles (11 for $2.99), as well as bottles that used to contain my contact lens cleaning solution (Aquify brand is best). I also apply and erase paint with cut-up old T-shirts, paper towels and sand paper.

Mixed paints are stored in former yogurt and cottage cheese containers.

Sometimes it looks more like a recycling center than an art studio!

The view above was taken by my husband from outside the studio. I was oblivious to the beautiful sunset in the backyard, much more intent on adding another layer to a new painting!

New Year's neatening

Got lots of organizing done in the studio this morning! I've been in Making Mode for many months, which is great, but sooner or later, you HAVE to pay attention to some of the unfun but necessary stuff: labeling paintings (at least with "top," if not titles), wrapping them, and storing them.

You see, I have a tendency to fling paint, long distances, when I work, so any finished piece that's left sitting out without a plastic wrapping (I call them "raincoats") is liable to get an unintentional touch-up from a flying blob of color. So today I managed to wrap all the new works I've made since September and find a safe place for them.

Also I was getting frustrated that I had my "not for sale" works mixed in with the works I have available for sale. So I cleared off a whole area of shelving to make a separate space for work that I want to keep.

Everything is much easier to find now! I labeled each piece with its name on the side, too, so I can tell at a glance what's where. Going through all my work also gives me an idea of which directions I want to follow, to create new series, into 2010.

Before you get too impressed, though, let me note that I haven't included a picture of the table that's piled high with all the teaching supplies I pulled off the shelf to make room for the not-for-sale works. Sorting through them and finding a place for them is a project for another day. But for now, my paintings are all labeled, wrapped and rarin' to go ... off to gallery walls for shows and/or collectors' and corporation walls for good homes.