A Studio of One’s Own

The incredible Picasso, being amazing in his envy inducing studio, 1956.

Anyone who actually makes things with stuff, knows how important it is to have a place to do the said making. I have painted and sculpted in places as varied as my cluttered little bedroom, to wonderfully large, well lit spaces, with all the equipment I could possibly need. Many a time I have been forced to put a hot water bottle up my jumper. There have been poisonous snakes, tarantulas, asbestos, and perhaps ghosts. On one occasion, I had several paintings to do for the affordable art fair, and no studio. I spilled turpentine in my bedroom. In the morning I awoke with what I assume was turpentine poisoning. I’m certain that any maker reading this will relate. I believe very few of us feel we have the studio we want/need. Other people desire a fancy, grown up car, a lavish wedding, holidays in Barbados. I want a big studio, and all the time in the world to make my stuff. I would be interested to know how many artists feel satisfied with their studio? How many sit in peculiar positions, balancing their canvas on the radiator? Anyone who makes stuff knows, you have to do what you can, with what you’ve got, in the space available. Necessity is, after all, the mother of invention. If you are struggling, you’re not alone. I’m fairly happy with my studio right now. It is warm, I have enough of what I need. It is, however, much smaller than I’d like, and has very little natural light. But…

If you need to go somewhere enough, you will go in an ill fitting shoe.

The best studio I ever had. Although, there may have been ghosts.
Cyprus College of Art, Larnaka, Cyprus.

Here’s some studio porn for you.

Jean Arp’s Studio, 1953. Wow.
Alexander Calder’s Studio, 1955. Look at those windows!
Willem de Kooning in his studio, East Hampton, 1964. (I can only dream of standing back from my work like this).