Posts tagged: journal
I've written in the past about how a formal studio practice didn't work for me but I've always loved having a dedicated space for creative work, so I decided to give a home studio a try. Why: less financial commitment; easier access; and more privacy. (I sing when I paint. Loudly.)
When I discovered this dingy dark concrete room in the basement, I immediately saw it... a studio!
A curious soul recently asked: What is your biggest piece of advice for someone torn between getting a degree or teaching themselves art?
What a big, beautiful question -- one I've been asking since the beginning, as well. Although I certainly have an opinion, I turned to a group of AMAZING artists, some self-taught, some traditionally educated, some both, for advice.
I want my own art studio.
That's been the dream for years. I've painted on virtually every floor in my apartment, on hotel room tables, in the van I lived in for 8 months, on dirt back roads, and in my friend's metalworking garage. I've accidentally splattered paint on furniture and once even ruptured the top of a tube, leaving a splotch of teal on my studio apartment ceiling (goodbye, security deposit).
But oh, to have my own art studio — what a dream!
There is a whole part to being an artist that we don’t talk about much.
The feeling, the opening, the brutal joy and pain behind the colors, the lines, the strokes. A creative life is just as much about feeling as it is about making.
I’m slowly learning this vicious, gorgeous cycle...
It's midnight and am sitting on an air mattress with my new pup, Dewey, asleep by my side. After six months of driving, analyzing, planning, reanalyzing, and Craigslist-ing.. I'm finally sliding under a big down comforter in a house with a deep sigh of relief. You can stop running. You can rest.
This didn't happen effortlessly, although it could have (more on that another time). And even now I still have hesitations.
Exactly one year ago I rode my awkward old Raleigh two-speed bike to the Wellington Library. Despite it almost being summer, the New Zealand capital was cold and windy, and I ordered a flat white while staying bundled in my big down jacket and scarf.
I sat at a table in the library cafe and pulled out a drawing pad. I had no idea what I was doing — just playing around with pen and paper, like usual — and sketched the first-ever #atwildwoman.