Occasionally, I find that unexpected email in my inbox from a blog or magazine asking for an interview. It’s so exhilarating and I’m grateful that there are people who want to share my work with others. Yet there is a part of all this that gives my stomach a sinking feeling.
“Please share a peek of your studio space.”
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not a ridiculous slob, nor am I trying to hide anything. In many ways, I’m very proud of my little studio, if not for what it is but for how it’s changed. I simply worry because a picture is only a representation of the now; it does not show the journey.
When I first moved to New York City, a little over 2 years ago, things were so different. I hopped on the plane with two suitcases, after just graduating college and blowing all my money studying aboard in London (totally worth it). I was moving to a city of 8 million people and I knew only one. We lived in a tiny apartment where you had to straddle the toilet to get out of the bathroom and I didn’t have desk and chair, let alone a “studio space.” When I started selling artwork under the name BROWN BEAR STUDIO, it was sort of sarcastic. I didn’t have a studio, I was a recent grad making art on the floor of her apartment because I was lonely in a new city and artmaking was comforting and familiar.
My studio space has grown since then, even though it is still just a corner of my bedroom. It is a space that inspires creativity in me, but it’s a process. Like so many things. Reflecting on building a creative space from scratch, reminds me of building a business with my own two hands. Holy crap, are there struggles! But focusing on them doesn’t change anything, but working your butt off does. A little over a week ago, I share my goals. That is where I’m going, but this where I came from. Making something from nothing, thanks to stubbornness, idealism, and the support of great people. My studio and my art are a reflection of self, and all three are a work in progress.