The disaster zone.

If I were really pretentious I’d say I have an “art studio” But I’m not a pretentious sort of person, so I could say  “My craft room”, but it’s not really a room, because it’s a garage, and I’ve seen too many neat orderly WHITE, perfectly organised spaces that people call their “craft rooms”.   (They scare me.)

I’ve seen craft rooms where everything is filed away, alphabetically listed, all the storage containers are exactly the same and all slot into their allocated spot perfectly and there is not one spec of glue or paint to be seen anywhere.   These aren’t crafters or artists! They’re aliens!  How can people work like that!

My name is Tracy, I have a garage where I make stuff and it’s a disaster zone.

Feels like some kind of a confession or something.

I AM a compulsive maker of stuff.  Always have been.  It’s just that now I’m making it and I have to sell it because I just can’t keep making it and keeping it!

After having recently moved house I finally cleared a space in the garage for myself.

It’s a nice space. I can have the garage roller door open in summer to let the breeze through and the views outside to the lake are nice and calming.  The only issue are the lights which are on a stupid sensor thingy, so sometimes they have a mind of their own and I have to either do a dance back and forth across a certain point to make them come back on, or else sit in the half dark with the lamp on until somehow it resets itself and allows me to put them back on!  Just one of those quirky things you get used to.

This is what it looked like when it was all new and pristine and orderly and all.  Note that nothing matches at all and things are still in cardboard boxes.  But still….this is NEAT, for me.

Take a good long look because it will NEVER EVER look that way again.  Not even in a blue moon when all the planets are aligned and a frog sits next to a hare on the road.

This is how it looks today.

I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of my mess.  This is pure delicious inspiration in the makings here…..this is where a piece of ripped cardboard I dropped on the floor would make a PERFECT clock surround…  Where the crumpled ball of tissue paper that rolled under my chair comes in handy just about now!  Where a ball of wool gets flung in the general direction of the wool box, because I can’t be bothered getting up because I just have that one last little piece to paint!

This is where I sit almost every day and listen to the local radio station and just let my mind float.

I do a lot of thinking in here, believe it or not.

I think about the things that are bothering me….the things I’m looking forward to….the things I want to do….to make… But a lot of that time my head is just “free”  and clear  and not really thinking of much at all because I’m too busy trying to solve problems.

A lot of what I do involves problem solving.

“How can I make THIS  look like THAT?”.

“What colours will enhance the rusty look?”

“How do I draw that shape?  How do I cut that out?  How….how….how…?”

My hands are so busy that it quiets my very busy mind, and this is a GOOD thing.

Therapy.

I may not be weaving baskets but I’m certainly keeping myself from going insane.

This mess is ME and where I am the most happiest being ME.

 

Oh it’s not always like this.  Sometimes it’s worse!

I move in cycles…..create, create, create….ohmygodIcantstandthechaosanymore!

Then I have to stop and restore some order or else I’m likely to become buried like something from an episode of hoarders.

I’m ALMOST at that point now.

This is what birthed from the bloodied loins of my beautiful disaster zone today.

 

I loved the bottle when I first saw it, but the contents were ghastly.

My husband and I shared it when we stayed in the city one night to see the Vivid Lights show.

I don’t know what exactly the drink was but it was pink and vile and bubbly.  I just needed that bottle!

What you do for your art hey?