a glance inside an artist's studio
The art studio. Atelier. Sanctuary. The safe space where an artist can breathe life into canvas, paper, wood, metal, computer or kiln, creating a piece of beauty where there was previously nothing.
Every studio space will be different, depending on the creative or maker. Some are huge, with crisp, white walls, large north-facing windows and canvases stacked against every available surface. Some are merely the scratched, wooden table in the kitchen, or that corner of the living room that lets in the beautiful morning light. No matter the space, the studio takes the creative into a warm embrace whenever they enter. Reality slips away for those moments or hours; dirty dishes and overflowing laundry baskets no longer matter, worries and doubts slip away once paintbrush hits canvas or hands glide across the throwing wheel.
My own studio is attached to my home. French doors lead into a strangely separate room, where the warmth from the wood heater refuses to reach, and the huge east and west windows look across our paddocks. The walls have been painted bright white, and this awkward room in our house has slowly been turned into a haven for my creative practice.
I have plants covering every spare surface, table and shelf; I love having other growing, breathing things around me while I’m working (but that also don’t require my undivided attention). My partner’s wall-mounted fallow stags, which I’ve named Phillip and Eric (yes, after the Disney princes), are in here with me, gazing over me as I create. I realise some people have an aversion to taxidermy, but my love for wildlife has given me an appreciation for hunting and conservation, which I’ve since learned are tightly linked to one another.
Every year I purchase a new piece of artwork for my personal collection, finding the perfect piece to describe the year that has passed. Currently I have two; “All I Need” created by Deeann Reeves and “Lush No. 3” created by Kaylee Dalton. Both are wonderful artists whom I look up to, and their artworks are proudly on display on my studio walls.
There are two tables in the centre of the studio, with bright white tops that are never, ever cleared. Freshly gessoed panels, sketchbooks, odd bits of paper and half finished pieces cover every space available in my studio, and these tables bear the brunt of it. In the corner sits two sets of huge, old, a little bit rusty, and well loved map drawers stacked on top of each other, a God send to protect the huge sheets of bristol paper and matting boards. I’ve added an old couch (which I, quite proudly and with a lot of swearing, re-covered myself), covered in blankets and my favourite cushion from the Ghibli Museum in Japan, proudly on display and as far away from paint and charcoal as possible.
My work desk and painting area are a constant mess covered in paint brushes, coloured pencils, paint smears and pencil shavings, always ready to be put back to work. I try to keep them tidy, but there’s something intimidating about showing up to a pristine work space, kind of like staring at a bright white canvas with the expectation of creating a masterpiece from it… It gives me anxiety just thinking about it! I have a tendency to jump from acrylic to coloured pencil a couple of times within the week, keeping my creative muscles (and hand muscles, oh my goodness) strong and flowing.
Two monitors sit at my work desk, the pretense of being used for multitasking, with long cords able to stretch from work table to easel with ease (except for trying to wrap around my poor plant just trying to soak up as much sunlight as it can!). And then there’s the huge Epson printer, proudly sitting in a place of honour beside me, having only been turned on once since being purchased. Eventually there will be chaos of prints, paper and ink surrounding it, but for now it sits there looking pretty while I work up the courage to really get it working.
It’s taken me four years to turn an cold, empty room into a warm studio space, full of life, energy and creativity. I’m humbled to say most of the items within are second hand, from the tip shop or op shops, refurbished by my own hands. There are always things to be done (such as removing the horrible blue carpet, but at least it doesn’t matter if paint splatters to the floor) and always adding new artwork, furniture and plants to keep it alive and breathing.