Everything was going so well a month ago.
And yet, it still is.
It’s been a strange shift – from a busy, active studio with almost daily visitors, to a closed, solitary workshop.
And yet, it opened up.
I have been so frantically busy in the past nine months, trying every which way to earn money to pay the rent and make the studio sustainable. In February, things finally seemed to be coming together: workshops and instructors lined up, artwork for shows and exhibits completed or in progress, private users coming in, catalog completed. The studio was finally in compliance with code and ready for inspection.
I had found a sculptor to collaborate with, to expand my mixed media skills. I had a full schedule of sessions planned with Agnes Scott Art Department Chair Nell Ruby, who’s been working on an installation project.
Then things fell apart. Workshops cancelled, shows postponed or cancelled, suppliers closed, the county planning office on silent mode. Every day I read the news obsessively, which made it hard to keep moving ahead.
I marked a pathway through the studio with tape on the floor every six feet. But, after the cleaner and I danced around each other all day, I saw that it was just too hard to maintain distance while using the equipment. I stopped allowing visitors.
I did continue to work on a large commissioned sconce with an unusual shape, and had five failures. Charlie would have known how to do it…. instead, I had to learn from many phone calls, emails, and online research. The only in-person help was a trick about working with sheet metal, which came from my landlord – while he was standing six feet away with his hands folded.
Sometimes I just sat, listening to the rain, and pushed further back the deadlines on my to-do list. The slow-down made me realize how tired I was.
As more and more time opened up, I dove deeper into my art. I tried new techniques, allowed myself more space, in a way that I haven’t been doing often enough.
Thursday, I was working with the emergency exit door open. The light and fresh air and bird songs filled the room.
I stopped, breathed it in, and turned in a circle. I saw how bright, clean and inviting the studio is now.
I walked around touching the new work I’ve been doing during this solitude, and it pleased me. I smiled at Charlie’s sculptures, still glowing in their places.
The Shelter series.
Shelter in place has a new meaning in the studio. It is my shelter now, a place away from the encroaching fear outside. An artist’s residence.
It’s too good to keep to myself.
I invited Nell Ruby to come back to the studio – only on the days when I’m not there. We’ll work #TogetherApart on our projects. She came in yesterday, and we FaceTimed while she walked through, discussing what she can work on next. We’re both so happy that she’s back.
And whenever the world is safe for us all to emerge, the studio will be ready. So will I.