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...