Helen Frankenthaler in her studio. Photo by Ernst Haas.


I need a real studio.

The house I’ve been in for these four+ years is utterly beautiful: thick adobe walls; radiant floor heat, glorious views and a lovely balcony from which to let your vision and imagination soar for miles to the east and south and west of Santa Fe. It sits on five pinon- and cholla-dotted acres, that are ideal for rambling with a dog. There’s a feeling of seclusion, and being close to Nature. Neighbors generally keep to themselves. I’ve see coyote, deer, even bear out here. And, of course, abundant crows, juncos, nuthatches, fly-catchers, jays, hawks and hummingbirds.

But there’s no studio, and though I’ve tried to make the best of it, the fact is the lack of a real studio has hindered my ability to create the kind of work I want and need to create.
 
Okay, okay….Never-mind that Jackson Pollock painted in a barn. Any serious artist will do whatever it takes in order to make their Art. I made do for many years in a mildewy vermin-infested basement, only to come down some mornings and find rat paw prints across my paintings and table tops. Been there. Done that. Ready to move on.

Jackson Pollock in his studio in East Hampdon.

 So…what do I mean by a real studio?

Studio designed by Olson Kundig, Seattle.


I mean a room with large expanses of bare, smooth walls, upon which I can tack and nail both finished works and works in progress.

I mean a room with good light for an artist.

I mean a room with a slop sink and running water.

I mean a room with floors that it’s okay to get paint on.

I mean a room with high ceilings.

And so…Time to focus my desire and put my intention for a new studio out there….and see what happens!

Cezanne’s studio in Aix-en-Provence.