I have and have not moved back into my studio, and after a few years of not picking up an oil paint brush, that’s the first thing I’ve done. Once that mess begins, it spills over everywhere, including into sketchbooks!
Below: first days of the month; after two weeks in the studio; current book.
It has been a cold, wet and late spring in Maine, yet the flowers like faithful friends continue to poke out of the ground and smile in our direction. And I have finally begun moving back into my studio – notwithstanding that I still have some work to do to complete the renovation. It’s done enough; and yesterday one very cool made-for-me table was installed (a big shout out and thank you to John Farrell of Figures of Speech Theatre for that). So today, despite homasote that needs paint, and a window that needs glazing, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I spent time with artists colors in my brand new studio. It is thrilling (and somewhat terrifying if I am to be honest). Soon I will post pictures of the new space, and hopefully in not too long new paintings!
And I realize I haven’t added anything to this so-called blog in a few months. Being studio-less has been, shall we say, a bit challenging. So, I thought I’d post some photos of what’s been going on in and to my humble little studio.
First we had to make a mess, and I mean REALLY BIG MESS.
It is almost an entirely new studio: new rafters, siding, insulation, sheetrock, windows – and 8 more feet of space in the back! It isn’t quite done yet, but now getting really close and exciting. It has been a long haul, but I know when the winds blow next winter I will be toasty warm, and forever grateful to Curtis and Andre for their hard good work, Jenny Scheu for encouraging me to make this big mess, and my mom, who unbeknown to her helped finance it.
Serious demolition has begun in the studio. Half the building is down to bare studs. The chore that I was most dreading – cleaning out the loft space – is pretty much complete. There is little that can’t be done when you put a mask on your face and your mind to that which seems insurmountable. It was disgusting up there. But lo and behold, even though I thought every last thing was going to find it’s way to the dump or a bonfire, I was wrong.
I knew my old prints of many moons ago were there, but I dared not hope they’d be anything salvageable. There were several old portfolios, all zippered up and miracle of miracles, un-infested. What a great surprise I got when I finally hauled the portfolios down and opened them up. The contents within were pristine.
I’m pretty sure the litho at left was done when I lived in NY and worked at the Art Student’s League. That would’ve been over 30 years ago