Jason and I shared a studio space for many years. It was a chaotic mess. His mess was on one side of the room. Mine on the other. I can’t even remember really what we made in this place, but I DO know we would listen to music and talk and imagine who we were and who we wanted to be.
Over time it became clear we needed that bedroom for our growing family. We each found our nooks elsewhere and separate. I made a colossal mess on the dining room table we seldom sat at. He huddled up in a corner to draw or try to paint. We spent more time outside trying to build the most epic homestead ever than making art inside (our garden was a work of art as well). When we felt a surge to create though we had a place to do it.
I eventually moved into a corner of our bedroom and made that work for a lot of years - until it didn’t - until my heart was not into it and the creative energy within was needed elsewhere in my life - raising teenagers. It was difficult to pack up all my fabric and notions and let that part of me sit in boxes for several years (almost 10). Of course, there was fear I wouldn’t come back to it. That was something I had to accept as I packed it away. Creating has been a source of escape into my imagination for all of my life. I decided if I couldn’t create with fiber I could take photos and write. I could still be intenional about making.
When our kids moved out to begin their independent adult lives one of the first things Jason and I did was make spaces for ourselves to create again, but in a new way. I went from having my camera and my keyboard to having an entire room brimming with fabric and notions and all the things that would hopefully open my heart again.
In the first ‘real’ manifestation of a studio I had too many things. My mind was cluttered, I was dealing with loss of so much and my studio reflected that. I had a lot to let go of - including the burden of our home and land.
When Jason and I moved from our family home I still clung to the what if’s and took too much with me. My studio in our first rental was more of a closet with a closet than a “studio”. I learned how to make my space functional so I could use it. I really had to get organized having what I most needed closest with the things I used the least often further away. I had to figure out how to store things best and where to keep them. It took time to get everything in a place that made sense. I only compromised with myself when I had to - like leaving things in a cardboard box until I found just the right container at a thrift store rather than running off to buy something new. Though I do that plenty also - I’m no saint.
As this small room came to life it became clear I still had too much stuff - notions and fabric that came from women who bought them long long ago and passed them onto me. (I’ve got your number wise women.)
I made that ‘oversized closet’ work for me and because I had to I figured out how to really set up a place that would help me stay creatively productive - which is what matters to me. I have so many stories to tell.
Our second rental was spacious and bright. In the second move I purged more than half of my fabric. I took the chance to get real with myself and let it go. No need to hold on to things I am not likely to use ‘somewhere down the road’. I decided if I didn’t already have a plan for it and it was in the maybe pile it had to go. 4 gigantic boxes of fabric I gave to a friend. 4 gigantic boxes of fabric filled with stories of fabric shops and adventures on the road to collect fabric. Turns out, I haven’t missed any of it. The memories that it held are actually richer in me because they are no longer out of me. I also purged all the old notions except for a small box. What is it with us fiber folks that we hold onto to everything??? We ever touch??
What I continue to learn as I intentionally give myself to this place is that I am continually refining and looking at what feeds me. I am doing my best to listen. For me, having order allows my creativity to flow more freely. It doesn’t mean I can’t have chaos. It also doesn’t mean I deny myself anything. I have an entire room (and closet) filled with the materials that give my song a voice.
What it means is that when the chaos and disorder are not working - they are causing me to avoid something or I feel guilty because I’ve got a case of the ‘shoulds’ it’s time to put on my girl pants and put things back in their place. I have to take a look at what’s going on in my mind and my heart and where are the barriers to accomplishing what I want to? Clarity is so messy.
All of this to get to an aha moment.
This place.
This creative place is my temple. It is the space in time where the stories I tell reside most prevalently. It is where the echoes of shadow whisper and also where the boom of life calls me to live strongly. This temple should tend me. It needs to be somewhere I want to be.
This intentional place to create - whether it is a studio, a corner, a garden, a small suitcase, a notebook and pen - it needs tending. It needs attention regularly. It’s easier - at least for me - to give it attention if everything within it fits into it with purpose.
What’s most important is having a place to create. Somewhere that is a sanctuary for your imagination. How you find inspiration and dream in it is up to you. Being intentional with what is kept and how is ultimately up to what feeds your creativity. Starting with the place is a good first step. Being committed to going there (a lot like a sit spot - where I currently sit finishing this up). Once you have it, committing to cultivating it in a way that feeds you and is easy for you is a great second step.
A studio doesn’t have to be a room, or a table in a corner, or a closet that has a closet. It can be a pencil case with your favorite pens rubber banded to a journal. It could be the camera of your phone. It could be a shoe box that houses a few tubes of paint and some paint brushes. Maybe it’s a knife in your pocket and a cool stick you might whittle on later hanging out in your left shirt pocket.
What I have come to understand is that a studio is a place that you know and can use. A place you want to use.
It has to be somewhere or something that is easy to use. I always take the means to lay down my thoughts on paper. As much as I like the convenience of typing out my thoughts they are much messier and scattered on paper. Clarity comes for me without the ability to edit. I love the idea of small and easy to carry with me which is why I almost always travel with my journal and pens in spite of the additional weight.
In this last move to this version of my studio what I have whittled down mostly to what I use and the things I feel confident I will use. Would I still manage to get myself to only what I need and use if I had not moved? I think so, but it would have taken me a lot longer. I also wonder now that I have a place and won’t be moving again anytime soon will I accumulate again? Probably. But, maybe with more intention. And, I like purging. I know not everyone does.
A studio is nice, but if you don’t have one and the act of creating matters then you find a way - even when you pack up your materials for 10 years.
Be intentional about creating by finding your place.
Guess I’m going to go clean up that closet now.