I’m in – the move has happened! If you’ve been following this blog you’ll have an idea of the weight behind that statement. But even I have been surprised by the depth of my feelings around moving into my new studio. I remember a friend of mine talking about how he felt on the day his first child was born – a sense of amazement that people were simply carrying on, going about their everyday business, ignoring the fact that here he was experiencing one of the most extraordinary days of his life! Surely the world should stop and take on this magnificent life-changing event with him!
It’s no exaggeration to say that I’ve felt the same about my move this week. I’ve been thinking about the reasons why my feelings have been running so high. Perhaps it’s because of what I feared I’d lost when my studio was so abruptly taken away. After a long time of working in isolation, my subsequent attachment to positive, generous people had become my lifeline. I’d only just started to feel a part of a like-minded artistic community, a place where I felt understood, both personally and in terms of my work, when the rug was suddenly pulled from under my feet. At the time it felt like everything had been ripped apart and that there was nothing left to salvage. I cried when I moved into my new studio space on Monday – with sheer relief and happiness about what has been salvaged.
And there’s no doubt that having an allocated space in which to once more be an artist has also brought enormous relief. The boundary between my professional life and my personal life had started to become blurred and in the absence of proper time off and relaxation from either role, I had started to feel that I wasn’t fulfilling either of them particularly well. Working round the kitchen table felt fine to start with but I haven’t been able to maintain any regular creative practice more recently – and that’s unusual for me. Studio space for me provides a sanctuary away from the inevitable intrusions of everyday life and I cherish the moments that I can use my time in it, to be able to apply myself to my work and simply to be me.
In my first post on this blog I wrote this:
Keeping It Together is the start of my journey as a studio-less artist. Where do I go from here? Where do I and my ‘stuff’, both literally and metaphorically, fit in? Where will I re-establish my practice and where will I feel more at home, both within myself and in relation to others?
In terms of actual weeks, I’ve only been without a studio for a short time but in emotional terms, it’s felt much longer – so many emotions have been tied up in the whole process of moving on. I’m not able to work effectively in a random environment; I need my things around me and the space I create in my studio is in many ways an extension of my work. There’s as much thought and care put into how the studio’s arranged as there is into the actual work that is created within it.
I’ve missed the whole process of creating more than I realised I would; it’s what sustains me. I’ve known that intellectually for a while but I hadn’t realised until the past few weeks just how much my creative practice safeguards my emotional well-being and nourishes a part of me.
My time in the studio since Monday has felt a lot like playing house – trying out different ways of arranging the various items of furniture and the many cardboard boxes crammed full of stuff. I feel I need the studio to be ‘just so’ before I can get down to the basics of making and creating again. This is the fun part – the nesting! I’ve missed the pottering – it’s all part of the process for me. And at last, that process has started; I’m already beginning to feel at home.
