Every artist needs a creative space, a refuge where the mind can relax enough from the tangle of daily living to let new ideas flow. My refuge is the attic, a classic hideaway, to be sure. Our house is an old frame house built at the turn of the century. (How do I know this? Some of the original wiring knobs are still in the basement, and the rooms have external conduit wiring, no comfy built-in outlets for me, thank you very much! This leads to amusing situations in the kitchen, but that's for another post...) The attic is really the third floor, mostly finished and filled with stuff... my stuff, his stuff, Nevaeh's stuff, the cat's stuff... you get the idea. The space is divided into two rooms, and my studio is the second of the two, it even has a door! (Hallelujah!)
I have my worktable and rolling chair, stack-able plastic modular shelves to store trays and trays of beads and crystals, and finally my most prized studio possession, a wooden watchmaker's cabinet where I store my tools, findings, stringing materials, precious metal findings, odds and ends and bric-a-brac. This is a place that I can escape to, to sketch, design, and create my jewelry pieces. It's not off-limits to the rest of the household, either. Nevaeh is welcome whenever I'm in there, and Gizmo the cat serves as my fuzzy muse, sleeping on the rug in a sunbeam.
My radio is usually on the oldies or country stations, and there is a supply of bottled fruit-flavored water and Werther's hard candies to suck on in times of great concentration. My inspiration board is tacked to the wall, and I study it nearly every day.
As wonderful as my studio is, there are some problems with it- There's only one little window with a view out onto the neighbor's backyard
(it's where the kids play, so I can keep an eye on them while I work), and a
single electrical outlet for my radio, beading lamp, hot glue gun, etc. There's no closet space to speak of, just one cubbyhole of a closet where the Christmas decorations are stored. The floor is old grey unfinished wood that swallows dropped beads, wires, stones, etc. I have watched as a bead has fallen to the floor and disappeared before my eyes... note to self: grey is NOT the color to repaint the floor! My art history, beading, jewelry, and general inspiration books are
lined up on the floor because I don't have my bookcase yet, the two long
walls are slanted in which means I can't hang anything on them, and I'm
still looking for a futon to stretch out on, but the space is very
nearly perfect for me, heaven on earth.
