09 August 2011
the reality of it
I got a very charming email from a lovely lady after I posted about Dooley's fame in the most recent issue of Studios magazine. We've chatted back and forth for a while and I asked her if I could bring the initial topic of her email to the blog and she was quite agreeable about it.
So what was her question? Here goes:
How do I keep my studio so neat and clean and organized? (Yes, those who have been reading the blog for a while and all of you who know me in real life may now commence laughing hysterically.)
Want to know what my studio looks like right this second? Here it is:
I wish I could say how it looked for the magazine is the norm but the truth is, that photo shoot was kind of like getting ready for a wedding - everything looked all perfect for the photos and once they were over, I celebrated by making a mess.
But I can say that its organized chaos in its finest form. If someone told me that the whole of the fiber art world was stopping by to visit me in a couple of hours, I could have the place cleaned up in half an hour. (And I don't mean dumping it in a closet and praying the doors don't burst open under the strain of the pile.)
I've zeroed in on three philosophies when it comes to my studio:
1. I need space. Which means if something isn't used regularly, it gets stored somewhere else in the house. Anywhere but the place I need to be able to move around when I work.
2. Everything needs a home. One pile of miscellaneous leads to another to another to another. They breed like gremlins and are as about as fun. Have somewhere to put things back and a mess will never truly be a mess.
3. (And this is the one that changed my quest to conquer the studio.) It doesn't need to be clean. Not all the time. Not ever if I don't want it to. I make artwork in this studio. I write here, I create projects for magazine articles, I dream, I plot - none of these are neat. And I don't expect them to be. They have a life of their own and I am simply their medium so they need to have free reign which often translates to tossing fabric and paint about.
I love how my studio looked in the magazine. Part of me kind of wishes it was always like that but an even bigger part of me knows that if it was, that would mean I wasn't working and using it to its fullest potential. As long as the mess isn't making me homicidal, I've decided to call a truce.
Don't stress about the mess. There's too much art to be made to spend energy on that. :)