I am a person who talks a great deal about Place. Perhaps I’ve read too many Wendell Berry books. Or perhaps I’m on my fifteenth address in thirty-four years. I am placeless. My studio follows my same pattern. I moved into my first outside-of-school studio in 2001 in Frederick, Maryland. It was a tiny space in the foyer of the formerly Blue Elephant, now Griffin Art Center. I moved across the street to the Market Street studio when we started work on the Stations of the Cross.
Two years later moved down the street to the famed Studio at 116 1/2 West Fifth Street space. It was a fantastic garage space with an upstairs. I have wonderful misadventures that I could tell from my time in that space. It’s where Joseph and Mary were created.
In 2005, we got married, I moved out of 116 1/2 and we renovated our townhouse basement for a studio space. It was so isolating, so I moved to Kemp Hall for a year before the owners decided they were no longer renting to artists.
I found myself back on Fifth Street for a year, but in a different spot, where I shared a space with a potter and a Flemish painter.
Then we moved to Pennsylvania in 2009. I took a few years off to move, finish my master’s degree, and adopt a baby. Then in 2011, I got back to work.
That’s my living room.
And this is my kitchen.
You know something about sculpture studios? The stuff inside is very, very heavy. We are tired of hauling hundreds of pounds of clay from place to place. Power tools, work benches, aluminium armatures, sculptures that aren’t quite done yet. I often question the sanity of my vocation and my mobility. It seems that they are not very compatible.
My 48″ armatures arrived in the mail on Friday. And I was pretty giddy about it. This means it’s time to enlarge the sculptures for St. Elizabeth Ann Seton. Except there is no place for them to go.
Now, I find myself in another studio quandary. I have outgrown the living room and kitchen. The downtown space hasn’t materialized. My garage needs a ton of work. And I’m in a panic.