A new studio, a new color palette

Finally, most of the boxes in our new home in Santa Fe are unpacked.  We're at the fun stage now of unwrapping artwork (what survived the Great Purge) and deciding where to hang it.  My studio is organized and Mira, my Leclerc counterbalance loom, has been re-assembled.  Welcome back, Mira!

I have worked here for a few days now and I can tell you, it is nice to be out of the basement!  Another thing I love about this space is the airflow--there are four sets of windows and a screen door.  I'm wondering how I can translate into tapestry the feeling the of high desert air flowing through the room.  Open warps??

I'm beginning to wonder, "What will I weave here?"  To be honest, other than my ongoing tapestry diary, I have no idea yet.  But I am starting to take note of the color palette of this part of New Mexico.  Here's what I've noticed on morning walks so far.

The palette here is subtle.  Lots of neutrals with the occasional small pop of contrast.  It's not true that there's "no green," as some say. . . it's just that the green here is subdued, the green of sage and pinon and juniper rather than the singing yellow-green of spring in the eastern South.

Meanwhile the sky is ever-changing, and ever-fascinating. 

 Look at that cloud pattern!  (and no, I wasn't at the wheel when I shot this.)

Stay tuned. 

random thoughts from the studio at Christmas

Yes, the studio is a cluttered mess, and wrapping paper and ribbons have invaded. . . but there are twinkle lights!

On the wall on the far left you can see a rough collage of the design for my next Mary tapestry, on the theme of Mater Dolorosa (Sorrowing Mother).  I have started sampling yarns and colors for this piece with the Churro yarn I picked up at Tierra Wools in November (and some other yarns).  I'm weaving the face sideways and really enjoying that, putting in the lines for the eye and the mouth with soumak.  Excited about the possibilities.  Still hunting for the perfect rich light browns for the skin tones though.. . . and thinking I need to use a finer yarn for the soumak.  Stay tuned.

I want to share with you a poem by Rachel M. Srubas that was included in an Advent devotional I read last year.  Even if you aren't Christian, or are but aren't particularly interested in Mary, I think the message of Mary's strength empowers all of us . . . .

So be it

She has a secret,
though she shares it with heaven and earth.
Heaven imparted it to her, the curving earth cradles it,
neither judges her, and neither calls her a liar.

Fear flew from her like a flock of startled birds
and left her capable of greatness.
All that remained for her to say was so be it.
She said it, and meant it, though she was young.

Why say no?
Why protect yourself from risky blessedness?
You may not be as young as she,
but so what?  So be it, for God's sake.
Try saying it, try meaning it.

Don't just watch her go.
Follow her.
Emulate her urgency, her clear sense of direction.
You have your own heaven-given secrets and capacities,
your own map of the territory that will lead you
to the magnificent life you could live.



My warmest wishes for the peace, joy, hope and strength of the season to your and yours!  Thank you for keeping me company on this journey.

The Perfect Studio

If you're the creative type you have probably daydreamed at least a little bit about your perfect studio.  Lots of open space, high ceilings, huge walls for pinning up work in progress and inspirations, acres of worktables, large windows (north-facing, of course), a comfy couch for a nap, lots of shelving for supplies, neatly labeled bins . . . .  ah, wouldn't it be grand?

In fact, there's a whole industry out there devoted to selling you on the mystique of the Perfect Studio.





Of course the messge here is, If you had the Perfect Studio, you could make Great Art.  The right space is a magical super-highway to brilliant creativity.   Conversely, if you have to make do with, say, a corner of the kitchen or space in the basement, then you're going to be hopelessly constrained and never make anything good.

Well, with all due respect . . . bullhockey!  Of course, having your own space is good, and more space is better.  It's great to be able to put your materials out and leave them there until the next time you can get to work.  No doubt.  And I know artists who swear by renting studio space separate from their homes.  Going to the studio, like going to the office, helps them get into a working frame of mind and stay there, undistracted by the chores, comforts and people at home. 

But my studio has always been in my home. In fact, for about seven years I did all my work on the dining room table.  I made full-sized bed quilts and a number of smaller pieces there.  When we had people over for dinner, I put everything away.  It worked fine.  Later my fiber professor told me she knew a professional painter whose studio was for decades a corner of the dining room.  And for years a talented jewelry artist I know turned out stunning work in a dungeon-like basement space, under the stairs, lit by a bare bulb.  She made gorgeous pieces that sold as fast as she could make them.  So: beautiful work does not require a beautiful studio space. 

For the past 20 years I've been fortunate to have a dedicated studio space, a room of my own with a design wall, some storage, work tables, and room for my equipment.  It's been wonderful.  But my studio hardly resembles the fantasies one might see on Pinterest or in magazines.  For one thing, it's a room without windows, about 10' x 10'.  No room for a couch.  One smallish worktable, placed on bed risers to reach the right height.

The studio does have this very useful shelf running around two sides of the room.  And there's a large wall I covered with foamcore where I can pin up work in progress, visible on the left.  And room for my sewing table and machine, currently buried under stacks of stuff.  (The machine is wearing a red cover in case you're having trouble locating it.) 

And I have storage, sure!  On shelves. . .

 on a re-purposed computer desk, a cardboard box, the sewing table. . .

in dressers, in clear plastic bins, on the floor. . . .

I haven't included photos of the odds and ends of space I've commandeered in closets (storage for supplies and finished work), other rooms (looms), and my office where all the business stuff happens.  No matter how much space you have, you always want more.
 

If you've been putting off pursuing your desire to make stuff until you have more room and more time--don't wait any longer!  Even a small space and a little time here, a little there, adds up.  Make the room, find the time, get going!

And please, share below what kind of studio space works for you. (Comments are now published automatically rather than being approved by me first.)