When asked about my art I usually describe how one of my guiding principals is to create a sense of place, usually objectively, but occasionally in an abstract manner. Looking back on my earlier work I realize the same instincts were there on a subconscious level. Now, with a heightened level of awareness, I can see that this concern for a sense of place permeates so many aspects of my life, from rooms of my own, to offices, to studios, and even to finding a place to read or write.
I am not a “neatnik” and am a long way from being obsessive – compulsive, but have always been acutely aware of my immediate environment and the need to create some order and comfort in the spaces around me. The comfort is mental as well as physical; I have to feel a sense of pleasure being there, whether it’s a room, a workspace, or simply a chair in the corner of a room.
In the studio all of this is manifested in an interesting way. When I am engaged in a piece of work, or in a series of paintings, and the creative juices and energy levels are freely flowing, the disarray that accompanies this is not only un-noticed, but is welcomed. It adds to the creative process, which may last for days, or even weeks. But when it runs its course, as it always does, I’m left feeling empty and abandoned by the muses, and not much gets accomplished. In time I begin to feel the pull to get back to work, and one of the first things I do to nurture those impulses is to thoroughly pick up, clean, and reorganize my workspace. Only then does the process begin to repeat itself, over, and over again.
Regardless of where the space that I have created for myself is located, house, studio, or elsewhere, the integrity of my house, and especially the roof, is taken for granted. When I think of how distressed I was over our leaking roof, I cannot imagine what it must be like for those unfortunate people who have experienced the horrors of the flood. That does not alleviate my distress, but it certainly puts it into a proper perspective.
