After four car and two truck-loads, a lot of culling and cleaning, splinters and sore muscles, we moved my art studio home. No more store-front gallery, no more monthly bills, no more regular hours. I like my new space out in my own backyard, and I only share it with one other person: my husband, who I’m pretty used to.
I sincerely don’t know how this will work over the long term, but I have already become aware of a few new adjustments I have to make. First, when I’m at home, I obsess over order and cleanliness constantly. I create artificial hurdles: “I can’t go out to the studio until I’ve washed the breakfast dishes and started a load of wash.” Second, without a clear schedule to keep, I can’t figure out when and how often to shower. I knew these would be problems for me, and I’m hoping that over time I will come to peace with my compulsions. Third, without the possibility of a customer spontaneously seeing, liking, and wanting to buy my artwork, I feel haunted by the need to generate some new business opportunities for myself, and I haven’t quite figured out how/when to work on that. I have to keep reminding myself that we’re just coming out of the holiday hiatus and that there’s still time for me to establish a routine for self-promotion, but, in the meantime, the lack of opportunity hangs over my head constantly.
I have managed to start a new collage in my new setting. I love having windows and desk lamps around me instead of banks of overhead fluorescent light fixtures. I’m grateful for the backyard quiet compared to jarring Main Street noises. I haven’t yet missed having people around who keep the surrounding energies continuously stirred up, and I don’t know if my work will improve or plateau . . . .
Back to my old self-doubts again, I guess my journey continues . . . .