I was asked to define my art studio and how I use it.
This is what I came up with-
Is stuck in traffic as my mind wanders.
Sits at a stoplight where I observe a homeless man and his possessions.
Is a construction site as I memorize the body language of the workers.
Is the park where play inspires a body of work.
Is above the skyscrapers where construction cranes bathe in sunlight.
Is a memory I can’t let go.
Is an object in which I see the life of a grandfather.
Is a stick I have to pick up.
Is a sleepless night where my thoughts resolve.
Is the Internet where articles are read.
Is the photo application where work is documented.
Is Squarespace where a website and blog are my gallery.
Is Facebook and Instagram where posts count the likes.
Is a corner in the garage where thoughts become works on paper, and observations transform into abstract wire sculptures.
Is the kitchen counter where small sculptures are prepared to be cast in bronze.
Is a hacker space where furnaces heat bronze and sculptures are immortalized.
Is studio 234 in the old Nabisco factory where BLOCK XVI fellows strive.
Is where soap bubbles, wax and wire, charcoal and clay, paper and ink are well stocked.
Is where safety goggles and ear protectors, respirators and gloves are within reach.
Is where angle grinders, chop saws, and pneumatic needle hammers are well oiled.
My studio –
Is simple, clean, well lit and dead white.
My studio –
Is where I tell my stories and invite others to listen