It was just a great day for good karma and moving big things. I might even say perfect, but for the humidity that made the atmosphere feel alien and unfriendly. I bequeathed 35 large boxes of fabric to a sweet family who will put it to good use, and somehow as soon as we packed it up Mr. Lentil and I were off to pick up a giant wooden (cough, heavy) flat file, a gift from a friend. A gift!
All this change comes just in time for a massive reworking of my studio. I have this idea that somehow people who went to art school learned how to use a studio, that they have secret knowledge of how to get things done that they won't tell me. (Okay, you caught me. Actually I have the idea that somehow other people, in general, learned something about getting through each day that they won't tell me.) It's probably not true, but suffice to say I'm pretty sure that 1. I flounder more than I need to and 2. I've set my studio up more for a job than a creative space. Let's face it, this isn't really a job.
So I'm out to remedy that. I want more secret notes, sketches and lists on my wall. I want my collection of heads (buddha, styrofoam, and cement doll head with horn) to each have their own teeny shelf high up on the wall. I want separate work stations for each kind of work I do, all set up so I can flit (flit I say, flit!) back and forth on a whim. I want lots of trash cans. I want color swatches and pictures of turtles and twigs and more of my favorite quotes and a place to roll my yoga mat out to nap and regroup. I want a making nest. Big stuff. I'm going to figure this out even if no one will tell me their secrets.
