I’ve recently moved into a new art studio. Custom built about a month or so ago, without electricity or running water (but with a lovely wee wood burning stove). My husband and I refer to it as ‘the cabin’. He has one side for a study and I the other for my art practice. It sits at the back of our large, slightly scruffy (wip!), garden on the bonny banks of the Endrick River, in Scotland.
It’s my first dedicated studio. For years I’ve taken over spare rooms in my home so it’s a thrill to have such a space. Paints and inks have come out. Big pieces of torn paper and bits of wood are being nailed to the walls. There’s freedom to make mess and not feel the need to tidy up because guests are staying in the room where my studio has been set up.
Sometimes leaving home, in whatever form that takes, is a fine way to help us shift into new ways of seeing so we can then settle in to the continued practice of leaning into the unknown.