Once upon a time I posted a photo of my studio in its cleanest state. Most of the time though, it looks a little more like this.
Where the magic happens.
Oh look, there’s a meditation pillow that’s been used for pillow fights more often than meditation (never.) And a water dish that my studio cat Ron Weasley refuses to drink from.
Strangely, the prominently placed nameplate on my desk does not adequately deter others from using my desk.
These are very old. Some are from COLLEGE.
There’s a stack of portfolios in the corner and honestly, most of them are filled with the kids’ artwork from school. That pitiful small one in the middle is the only one I really use. Like so many other parts of the house, the studio is infested with children.
My dad made this drafting desk from an antique embalming table.
It seems I’m always at a loss for horizontal work surfaces. I’ve always got several paintings going at one time and have to shuffle them about according to what stage they’re in.
I love to re-purpose furniture.
Unassuming art deco armoire...
...or creative storage for the kids' craft supplies?
...or slick flat storage system?
Of course, there are a few things in my studio that serve no purpose whatsoever. Except to make me happy.
My iPod. My soul.
An autobiographical collage featuring shoes, the history of fonts, and dishwashing gloves.
A fireplace. Books. And a mantel with lots of sparkly things.
You might wonder why there’s a giant taxidermied goose in my studio, and you’d be right to do so. The story is, my husband is a big hunter-fisherman-outdoorsy-type and if he had his way the entire house would be filled with be-stuffed, be-horned and be-feathered things. There were..um…discussions, and the outcome was that he could choose ONE beast to have in the house and no more.
So I won. But really, I lost. And so did the goose.
His name is Bram Stoker.
The whole room is painted dark brown with an icy blue ceiling, which is not really good for lighting, but it is good as a calming aesthetic.
I’m all for form over function.