I love my studio. It's behind closed doors. Materials can linger on the counter, outside their drawers. Paint can splatter on the tile floor. It's quiet, secluded and unfortunately, dark.
I live in a mid-century modern ranch built during the height of the Cold War. Rumor has it, my studio space was built as a bomb shelter - in the basement, snug against the foundation. While the rest of my house is flooded with light, floor to ceiling windows in every living space, a virtual fish bowl; the one space I set aside for work is poorly lit.
So this week, I dragged my easel into the family room and set up shop.