Homes come in all shapes and sizes
It’s not what I would have chosen, but the house we have sort of chose us, and we are (apart from disliking the way it looks – which is kind of important), very, very happy here. The thing that I did get very excited about was the fact that it had an outside studio. My head FILLED with plans, I had transformed it into a paradise of creativity and a palace of fun. It was not to be. We moved in – so did a lawnmower, suitcases, assorted implements, large toys that mysteriously appeared from nowhere, and boxes FULL of stuff that we had no room for (how one goes from living in a 2 bedroom apartment to a 4 bedroom house, and can’t successfully transport and find homes for everything I’ll never know – we still have stuff in storage). The stido that was to be was not to be. I felt thwarted.
And so it began.
A kind of creeping, unintentional and I suppose insidious takeover of the BIG front room.
I started small – if you want to know – tiny canvases – very, small. LOTS of them it must be said – but they were small, and then they got bigger, and so did the dreams. The alarmingly large ones arrived overnight and required paint – more of it. The increasing amount of paint required housing. The increasing amount of paintings, skill and sales required more practice, and stock and housing. After a while all walls were employed in the pursuit of my passion, and many years later I (and I’m sure I wasn’t alone) was drowning.
So I made a big decision.
I recently claimed it (not out loud of course), and bought storage, and a filing cabinet, and reorganised, and made it all more organised.
And then I realised I have it. A room of my own. How decadent. I’ll share it of course, but only if they are nice to me….