Now, it doesn't fit any easily explainable,rational model.
We bought this place because we could.
Because it had a great feel to it.
Because it was big enough for 4 humans and 2 cats ( this was life before the Hairy Herberts; we had fluffy felines then) and it had a separate space for us, two recent art graduates, to work without encroaching on any of our living space.
That was 10 years ago.
Rambling Randall does still paint and photograph stuff but it is mainly me that occupies the shtudio.
Shop/studio = shtudio.
Not a word that ever issues from my lips but is often on the tip of my tongue.
My skills-that-pay-the-bills consume 3.5 days a week.
I am very lucky that they don't consume any more but there is all the other domestic and life stuff to do so I only commit to being in the studio 1 day a week although I am in there much more than that. Early mornings. Late evenings. Waiting for the washing machine to finish or food to cook.
Most days,at some point, in fact.
But on Saturdays I commit to being in there and opening the doors between 10 and 4. Every week.
It is creative chaos as you can see.
I love this space with all my heart.
It is my home.
The other rooms are where I cook and eat and sleep and stuff. But in my studio is where I am truly at home.
Or out to lunch!
Away with the fairies!
If I were renting this space from someone else I would have to admit financial defeat. As it is my poor accountant thinks I am heading inexorably toward the home for the artistically insane.
And it doesn't make sense.
Not on any kind of spreadsheet or ledger.
But to my heart and to my soul it makes as much sense as oxygen does to my lungs.