End of an Era

Well, that’s the last of it; brushes, paints and canvases all packed away. The studio is not a studio anymore. Bare walls and cold concrete floor say so little of what used to happen here. Maybe no art will ever be made in here again.

There’s a strange atmosphere that’s created shutting down my studio. A mixture of wistful nostalgia, pride and not knowing what’s next. I’m proud of what’s been created, all that’s been achieved and the progress I’ve made. Proud too this art studio helped me reach out and connect with so many people, some of whom now have hung in their homes (or in their garden) artwork created by me.

I’ve worked hard here, shed tears here, laughed out loud and grown here. I’m not sad to leave, I’m respectfully excited. Afterall, I’m not leaving anything behind. My art supplies are obviously coming with me; easel, palette stand and ram-packed art drawers are all packed. The artworks that haven’t yet found their own homes have all been packed and I’m taking my new skills, expertise and experience with me. But I also get to take my memories.

The highs: a panicked phone call from the client the previous day asking if it would be possible to change the painting deadline from the end of the month to the end of the week, she had got her dates wrong.

“Sure” I said, “and don’t worry, your parents painting will be ready on time.”

Forty-eight hours later, of adrenaline filled painting, I sat in my studio and brushed the final stroke, excited to show the client.

The lows: Every piece comes with its own personal battle. Sometimes a minor scuffle, sometimes an epic war. You enthusiastically create while judging and analysing your own work; is the value and tone right, is a likeness emerging, is there temperature harmony. But there are times when, and often halfway through a piece, you stare at the canvas and think “This is not good enough. I am not good enough. I shouldn’t make art”. Anxiety and self-doubt begin their debilitating journey ripping down experience, tugging at loose thoughts, trying to unpick expertise.

Trusting myself, climbing back on the process path, and breathing deeply fight back, and slowly, sometimes very, what’s created is an artwork forged in a symphony of emotions, a better piece.

A converted garage in my new home (Whoop whoop!) is going to be my new art studio and I can’t wait. I’m itching to get in there and start setting up, start creating for me and others. Artistic and personal journeys remain ahead and although they aren’t clear right now, like a blank canvas I am ready to begin painting and see what me, my family and my art studio will create.