I’m not a messy person. Back in college I made an impression on my future spouse because I had my shirts organized by color in the closet. That was an anomaly – I probably did that one day to procrastinate a class assignment. But why not embrace a counter-myth to the messy artist? Truth is, I do have a have a strong sense of order for many good reasons – but in the middle of the creative process all bets are off.
But let’s rewind a bit. A few things have to happen before you can make a mess in the first place. It occurred to me a while back, as I was in my workshop sawing away on some self-made gadget for my art studio, as a creative person it’s hard to create until you have the tools you need and a place to use them. In other words, you can’t get the skills with empty hands, and you can’t build much on your kitchen table.
Sure, that seems obvious. Of course with evolving technology the concept of workspace is changing all the time, depending on what you’re creating, but you still need tools and a space. If it’s so obvious, why do so many ambitions founder on the failure to bring these two things together? I think the answer is because it takes a lot of work before the real work even starts.
When we bought our first house, it needed help. I had some skills, but I’d never replaced a toilet or put in a skylight. The first thing I did was cut a hole in the roof, which in retrospect wasn’t the best idea, and also evidence of my leap-before-you-look approach to projects. But fortunately, I had the foresight to go out and buy some quality, used tools and set up a serviceable workshop. Over the years, I poured buckets of sweat equity into home improvements that would have never been possible without that workshop. And of course, I learned a ton along the way – what to do and what not to do. Mostly, it worked out well, and at this point I have the confidence to build all kinds of things. All because I had the tools and the space. Without that, I’d still be wondering.
I learned this from a couple generations of my boot-strapping family, creative people who built things they needed. Back in the day, my grandparents even built their own ladders out of hand-cut fir saplings to harvest their cherry orchard. In that spirit, I’ve watched my dad build and fix all kinds of things – many of which he had to learn and do at the same time, and watched my mom create beautiful artworks with media she decided to pick up and try out. Notably, everyone had the tools they needed and a place to work.
My first art studio was a small wooden desk I inherited from my grandpa, where I drew pictures and tinkered. One year, when I was about eight years old, Santa brought me an organizer with little drawers to hold art supplies and tools (I was quite stoked about it). Later, as a student studying landscape architecture at the University of Oregon, I enjoyed my studio workspace. My fellow students and I spent untold hours, day and night, toiling away in those cobbled-together hutches, drafting our fantasies with ancient technology like pencils and triangles. Later, I set up lights and an artist workspace in our first home, sharing the room with dirty laundry and piles of outdoor gear. A few years later, I rented an industrial workspace with other artists and painted a few pretty large works, but it was windowless, cold and lonely. After that, I created a “convertible” studio in one end of our living room that could be stashed when not in use (i.e. during the busiest times of my previous career).
The giant swinging closet door/easel/storage case
Fast forward to last winter, here I was contemplating a full-time career as an artist in mid-life. I had the tools but needed a better space for bigger messes. Luckily, with our nest empty, we now had an extra room. I started by building a custom closet insert that doubled as an adjustable easel that could support very large paintings – which I love to do – and plenty of storage for canvases and art supplies. I converted the old closet doors to adjustable, high-top work tables, installed bright halogen lights, and set up a few shelves. Because I already had a workshop and design skills, building out a studio was something I could feasibly do.
My new studio workspace, though still humble, is the best so far. It suits my needs – for now. I enjoy the space, the light, the air, having everything at my fingertips, and being able to leave it all out in plain sight. As I put on the finishing touches last winter, polishing up the newly-refinished wood with a cloth, I felt quite pleased. The smell of varnish and sawdust hung in the air, and although I dreamed about creating great works of art, I admit I was just a tad reluctant to throw the paint around.
Art studio then & now
But as with all good projects and work spaces, after a while the work takes over. You stop caring about the space and tools and become completely focused on what you’re creating. Things get out of hand. And at the same time, things are getting done. The stage of a project when all hell breaks loose is the most productive and creative time.
I call this the grand mess, and I love this process. Even though you know it’s going to get worse before it gets better, a good work space gives you confidence in the outcome. And for me, as a fairly organized person, I know when it’s all done I can chase the tools back to where they belong, clean off the flat surfaces, sweep the floor, and start again. The grand mess is just one part of a creative cycle that allows room for intense productivity as well as new beginnings. The cleaning up, re-organizing, and setting the stage for a new effort is just as important as the chaos in between. I know that may fly in the face of myths about artists, but for me it’s certainly true.
In my art studio, the grand mess is here to stay. Paint is smeared on the hardwood floors (I’ll refinish those later, someday, maybe). The smell of linseed oil is strong in the air, pencil shavings scatter underfoot, and everything stands ready. I have the tools, and I have the space. I can’t imagine how I’ll feel about it a year or two from now, but I can guess it will be a lot like my workshop. Familiar, confident, productive. Right now, it feels good, and I can’t keep myself away.
Check back in a week or so and I’ll show you what’s on the easel.
