Dream Studios

I consider my insatiable curiosity about other people's houses part of my job. Being a maker for domestic spaces has always been my aim. Long before I went to art college and was asked "Why don't you paint it on the wall or...on the ceiling?" (!) I felt that getting into peoples lives was going to be my small way of changing the world. I love walking along the street at night and getting glimpses into other peoples windows. What books do they have on their shelves? What are they eating? How beautiful is their couch and what paintings do they have on their walls?

Similarly I love seeing others studios, this is where the hard work and hard inspiration happens. I collect photos of my dream studios, my favorite at the moment is Thomas Brolin's studio in Sweden,



although Hector Pottery in New Zealand comes close, imagine potting this close to the sea?



Karin Ericksson in Sweden is moving to a new studio and follwing her blog in the next few weeks will yield photos of an amazing space, here is a tantalizing glimpse...





My studio is under our tall wooden house. I painted it golden yellow, thinking of the burnished colour of ripe wheat. It has a large messy working area and a special cupboard for displaying finished pieces. I have 1930's style cut glass lampshades. It is dim and cool and humid, sometimes my pots take 2 or three days to dry enough to turn.





Here is my challenge to artists whatever your space, a corner behind the wardrobe or a purpose built palace of design post photos with a small description of why your studio is like it is.

Farewell John Rebus

I have just finished "Exit Music". Ian Rankin's final novel in the Rebus Series. Inspector John Rebus, how I shall miss your depressed alcoholic ways. I'll never have the sensation of reading a new Rebus ever again. Trev and I often gave each other new Rebus books for Christmas and the celebration will never be the same without the tropical smell of mangoes and gardenias drifting me away into the melancholy world of Edinburgh's mean, cobbled streets and Rebus's conspiracy theories, ghosts and obsessions.
Fare well you lovable, intriguing, character, there will never be another like you!

old techniques, new context

I recently came across the fascinating wold of Ruth Singer an English textile artist. Ruth originally trained in museum studies hoping to become a costume curator and her love of historical costume comes through in her contemporary pieces.
I love the way these works take historical costume conventions such as pleating, applique and quilting and apply them in a contemporary context creating clean, uncluttered compositions.



Ruth has a fascinating blog where you can see photos of her work in construction.

Losing My Mind

The sun comes up,
I think about you.
The coffee cup,
I think about you.
"Losing My Mind" from Stephen Sondheim's "Follies"

Having a dishwasher makes me a better artist. Before we had a dishwasher my heart would sink every time I walked into the kitchen and my eyes were drawn to the pile of breakfast dishes on the sink. These dishes would in turn create a housework anxiety where all the jobs I had to do would start whirling around my head. Anyone who has ever seen my house will tell you that I'm am no cleanliness freak, but in the difficulty of starting the inspiration momentum the housework would become a (strange) priority. I realized that if I was going to work from home I had to liberate my mind from this terrible cycle.

I truly had to lose my housework mind. Making art is all about losing your mind, sometimes when the rational, thinking mind gets lost and wanders into strange byways and down dark paths a new idea just appears in front of me.

Our dishwasher is environmentally friendly and only takes about 10 litres of water per cycle and keeps all those pesky dishes from tethering me to earth as I walk through on my way to the studio!

Consumer Anesthesia

My favourite kind of shopping- food shopping at shops and markets in Orvieto.

I've had the flu- being sick was so much nicer before I had children!

Yesterday Trev and I shocked ourselves by going shopping at a huge shopping centre. I'm so glad I rarely spend time in these places as they epitomize everything about the modern consumer world that I hate. I believe that the design and architecture of these shopping centres is developed to lull the consumer into an uneasy sense that they must have more. The lighting is a strange mixture of bland brightness with no shadows, and each of the hermetically sealed spokes goes on in an endless repetition of similar shops. A lot of badly fitting, poorly made goods probably leave these places as the overwhelming message being pushed into every pore of your body is to "Consume, consume,consume."

Shopping Centres are one of the reasons I believe that artists are important in contemporary life. Being an successful artist is being part of a community, or of several little communities. Buying work from your local artists and artisans means that economic transactions have a human side. Also shopping in your local high street is more environmentally friendly, and being a mindful consumer means that although you may be buying imported goods you are confronted with the reality of this choice rather than cushioned from it by a balloon of gross, deadening, consumer anesthesia.

Collect eggs straight from the chooks!