Blink and the World Changes
Studio/Gallery
I'm fortunate that I have to set my alarm every day. One of my first jobs was drafting for a civil engineering firm and at 5 PM every day, if you happened to stay late, you could look across the rows of empty desks -- the door swung shut only once. We arrived at 8 AM while the head draftsman arrived at 8:10 (his knowledge of drafting iconography made him indispensable). He took the newspaper into the bathroom at 11:30 and stayed until lunch. He talked often on the phone to his wife of many years in sweet hushed tones (his desk was behind mine) and had his satchel packed by 4:45.
My job now is different. I have to set my cell phone alarm so I'll know when to put down my brushes even though I'm never finished when it's time to leave. On those rare occasions when I'm checking the clock to see what time it is, I know I'm on the wrong track with my painting. One thing I've learned as an artist is that if I'm not inspired I'm wasting paint (or priming canvases the sloooow way).
Two months ago, I was sitting at my easel just as I do now, but the light has changed. The studio has also changed and my commute is longer. I was perfectly content and the normalcy of the routine demanded innovation -- a plus -- but we got the call about new studio/gallery space in Falmouth and when we saw the windows we had no choice. So yadda yadda yadda (painting with big brushes, demolition -- thanks Damon, electrician and lighting -- thanks Dave, signage -- thanks Mike, carpet splicing -- oh knees!, dump run -- thanks Tom and Tony, borrowed van -- thanks Molly, alarm, phone, insurance, web site -- click click click) and two months later I'm back at the easel dabbing with familiar brushes. Shades of Vijnana Baihriva (for those who have time to delve into ancient texts.)
The first time I walked in our finished new studio space an image of art school popped in my head: how we used to envy the grad students in the fine art department and their assigned cubicle with a window at one end and an industrial pipe easel slightly askew in the middle of the room holding a large canvas. There were splatters all over the walls and floors. The splatters were important then. That was the dream, having your own space to just paint for hours and I walk into our airy new space with the large windows on both sides and the rugs and the coffee maker in the back -- even better than grad school! That's how real life should be.
-Doug Rugh
0 comments:
Post a Comment