After a summer of teaching, camping, and do-it-yourself remodeling projects my studio has become a ransacked, dusty, venture-there-if-you-dare area. Although they were somewhat afraid for me, my family returned to school today and left me to work amongst the precariously stacked boxes of classroom projects, the heaps of thread and fabric, and piles of unfiled paperwork.
I have two pieces I need to complete by mid september, so today I forced myself to ignore the mess, clear a spot in the chaos and work. I did it. I ironed, snipped and stitched for nearly 5 solid hours today, my inner boss constantly harassing my inner grunt laborer, “Get back at it! Stop starring at that clutter of old VCR tapes. You can deal with them later!”
When my boss wasn’t yelling at me today I got some time to think, and I came away asking myself: why did I let my studio get like this? When making art is such a hugely satisfying aspect of my life, why neglect the space where I make it? I didn’t come up with any answers but just asking the question seems worthwhile as does breaking out the broom to battle some dust bunnies.