When a bird, takes flight Wings, sail on air Silhouettes of time Upon clouds, inspire No height, inconceivable Nor dream, unreachable Fear, no longer, an obstacle Hunger, no more, high I soar Tears retreat, from, the earths floor The sky, stretches out, its arms and opens its door from A Bird Takes Flight by Bernard E. Harris
After months of contemplation, I awoke this morning and knew it was time to move. Although I haven’t settled on the exact location for my new home, I am ready to take flight!
It’s not about the size of the boat, it’s about the motion of the ocean.
For years I have been convinced that a larger art studio would lead to a significant increase in my art work productivity. I wanted a room for a big easel or two, to be able to work on several mediums and projects at once, and have storage for all my art supplies. I couldn’t help comparing my space to all the amazing studios featured on Instagram, Pinterest, Facebook, and in art magazines.
But then I saw wonderful greeting cards by the talented and prolific Canadian artist, Janet Hill, who works in a space “between her washer and her dryer.” Her works, be it art prints, stationery, cards, paper decorations, books, oil paintings, etc., are absolutely delightful and highly sought-after.
I have since come across many other artists who work in small spaces and are also very productive. It seems that a passion for, and commitment to, the creative effort trumps the size of the studio. I know I can always go outdoors or work at my dining room table, but I am truly grateful for having a dedicated space where I feel creative.
All houses wherein men have lived and died Are haunted houses. Through the open doors The harmless phantoms on their errands glide, With feet that make no sound upon the floors.
We meet them at the doorway, on the stair, Along the passages they come and go, Impalpable impressions on the air, A sense of something moving to and fro… from Haunted Houses by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I grew up in a neighborhood where the homes were identified, not by street numbers, but by the surname of the first owners. It didn’t matter how long the first residents had lived in the house, their surname was retained despite subsequent owners who may have lived there for much longer.
Furthermore, it seemed that whatever that state of emotion the first owners possessed, either happy or sad, the house seemed to attract the same sort of owner. I don’t know why, but when I visit a home, I can sense immediately if it is a comfortable or uncomfortable space – one where the inhabitants thrive in harmony or one where is there is upset and discord. (This is independent of color, lighting, furniture, or any other physical aspect of the house.)
I hope that when anyone enters my home they feel that they are not only entering a welcoming, happy, and comfortable place but one that is nurturing, creative, and flourishing!