The Studio

I love art. I am relatively artistic. I have some talent. However, I lack discipline and focus. So I think it highly unlikely that I'll ever elevate myself to the category of "artist," a title I covet. And now that I live in a community brimming with true professional artists, my dream seems less attainable than ever. I would quickly be identified as a fraud.

When we moved to the mountains, I was fortunate enough to have a room assigned just to my junk and me. In our previous home, my "sewing room" was housed in half of our gargantuan master closet. Better than nothing, but it often spilled out into the master bath, much to the chagrin of my better half. In this home we have a whole extra bedroom, and since Larry has the office/recording studio downstairs, my sewing machine and fabrics, crafting and art supplies have been housed there for two years in varying stages of semi-organization and chaos.

With the bigger room, I inherited storage possession of our family photo albums and other memorabilia. This also became a waiting station--a place to put trash before I was really ready to part with it, give-away items on their way to the Help Center, and storage items which had as of yet no assigned location. There were empty boxes, half-finished projects, mending, Halloween costumes, plastic hangers, fabric scraps, pattern pieces, manzanita branches, wrapping paper, raffia, Christmas cards, school work, and as of last November, a beautiful sewing machine in a cabinet that had belonged to my great-grandmother sitting hidden by junk in the corner. "It's somewhere in the sewing room," became a common response in our home to the infamous "Where's the ______?" question.

Four events spurred me on to a cleaning and decorating spree. First, we visited my brother- and sister-in-law in Idaho. Not only is Kim more minimalist than I in her beautiful decorating, but she has been on an organizational binge herself lately. Their closets were gorgeous and I was inspired. Second, we came home and Larry went to work on his studio-office. It's not perfect, but it's looking pretty darn good and I was envious. Third, I made some note cards to sell in my mom's Holiday Shoppe here in town, and then I had vision. Because of the lack of any clear surface area at the moment in my sewing room, I'd made the art for the cards on my kitchen counter. At that moment my sewing room changed form in my mind, it was now an art studio.

Finally, Larry allocated a certain dollar amount to "home improvements," put me in charge, and I had funds. Larry requested only that I use some of the money to get window treatments for the solarium. This is important because during the winter the sun beats in and is fading our furniture. The most cost effective way to do this is for me to make custom roman shades, virtually impossible to accomplish without an accessible sewing space. So along with an order of 17 yards of home dec fabric for the shades, shelves and baskets and a table were purchased. Periwinkle paint I'd acquired over a year ago for this purpose was rolled onto the walls. Several trips were made to the dump. Et voila: functional studio, complete with two sewing machines and a serger.

Whenever I redo a room, even a bathroom, I want to spend all of my time there. This is no exception. I am ready to tackle all of my unfinished projects and start on new ones. It's exciting. Like Paul McCartney's girl and her driver, I have a studio, and that's a start.