Just took Molly out to go potty. She has to be taken out because she can't see, and even if she could see, she would never consent to go out in this weather. She stands there all stiff and annoyed with the damp cold on her poor little paw pads. First real snow, a light snow but collecting on the ground and the trees nevertheless. It is silent and beautiful outside and not that cold.
It's been a long time since I've posted here, a busy time.
I have stopped taking my computer to my studio because it is a distraction, unless using it for art creation.
As requested, I've put some photos here of my studio. The first is of the outside showing what the buildings look like. There are ten that look like this, surrounding a grassy courtyard. There are two buildings at the front of the courtyard, one that houses a main gallery which is large and on two stories and used for visiting artists and traveling shows of various kinds. The other large building is being remodeled for use as a performance area. There are many outbuildings on the property, one a huge barn which they are planning to open this year as a 'music barn' seating over a thousand. Other buildings were used by the former prison for manufacturing, brick making, baking, and other things I don't remember. There are guard towers sprinkled about as well.
The other two photos are of the inside of my studio, which is about 450 square feet. I have space for working at a couple of large easels, a large table top for working flat, and a desk for my computer, monitor, Cintiq, etc. I also have some printers,flat files, cabinets,a storage area for canvasses,and a tiny kitchen where I have a frig and microwave.
It's a great space and I feel very lucky that it's mine. I love being there and working there is just so much easier than working at home. My weekends are Mondays and Tuesdays since Saturday and Sunday are the busiest days for visitors. Many people come through, chat, some are artists and they linger the longest.
One day a man came in whose father was the head prison guard back in the day. He was a boy of 7 and used to come to work with his dad, who would plop him down at a table in the prison cafeteria to lunch with the inmates. They were nice to him and it wasn't until years later that he wondered who he was actually dining with. Thieves? Murderers? His father was respected by the inmates because he treated them well and taught them to box.
Sometimes when I'm standing at my easel I wonder who might have stood here on these cement (very hard) floors before me. Maybe one of the suffragettes?
So good to see your blog again! What a beautiful and TIDY studio! I am lucky to find the top of my painting table! You are an inspiration.
Posted by: Bonnie | February 05, 2009 at 09:40 PM