It's not about the studio

I set up an impromptu studio in the kitchen
this evening while Steven made dinner to work on painting
the beautiful flowers Heather brought me on Saturday,
before they lose their lustre.

I've learned a lot in the past few years by
reading blogs from artists around the world,
and it seems that what matters is keeping going.
I remember having a painting teacher -- slightly
arrogant -- not quite right for the adult me, but
right in one bit of advice. He said as soon as you
paint 52 paintings a year you'll see your paintings
improve.

Here's the gorgeous garden bouquet in situ.
My family kindly decided to eat out in the heat on the
back porch so it could continue to
occupy Sam's place at the table.

I used to think that number was overwhelming.
Enter the daily painters. I can't manage to paint
every single day of the year, and no longer even
think that's a good idea. It seems a little manic,
and may make hanging out with friends and family,
seeing concerts, visiting galleries and even travelling
problematic. All of those pleasures matter big time
to me. But...the discipline of painting nearly every
day absolutely changes not only your paintings,
but your entire life! Add to that the absolute joy of
witnessing the work, and methods of painters in
every part of the planet -- and that joy multiplies
exponentially.

I recently saw an art magazine with pictures of
impressive studios of painters all over the world.
I'd love to have more space, better light, a stable
giant easel, lush carpets -- even assistants running
around sorting my paints, and making me coffee.
But in real life I've painted in the kitchen, on the
back porch, and for the most part in my tiny, cramped,
not impressive, but cheerful studio. And I've been to many
artists' houses with spectacular studios, designed
especially for them -- the whole top of a house with
skylights, or a building on their property built
especially for the artist with special built in paint trays,
and elegant lighting. Yet these people in proud possession
of magnificent work space didn't so much as draw in a
sketchbook. The studios couldn't make them create.

My sweet cat Timbah sat down on my chair
every time I got up to wash my brushes, or
change the water. He is an avid fan of my
work. And I am just his avid fan. (By
the way in Toronto we could use more
fans period. We're in an officially declared
heat wave.)

I don't have a number figure in my mind for how many
paintings make an artist -- after all Vermeer who so many
artists now revere, and even seek to replicate, created
very few paintings in his whole lifetime, but I do know
a beautiful studio won't make you an artist, but (almost)
daily practice, makes the entire job easier.

Have a loving-whatever-studio-you-work-in day.