A couple of months ago, my friend Jackie Slone led a lively conversation about artist studios and suggested that they are sacred spaces. I agree. In my own studio, there is a shift when I enter, a quiet awareness that this environment is set apart, offering a calm that is essential to the work.

My studio is not large, yet it feels clearly defined. It sits outside the pace of daily responsibilities, removed from distraction and obligation. Stepping inside has become a rhythm of its own. Over time, that consistency has created a threshold into the work. This is where ideas develop, where uncertainty is given room, where something begins to change. It is not only about making. Something in me is also being formed.

The placement of materials, the presence of objects, and the scale of the room all play a role. A tabletop holds my paints and materials, with a curated pinup board above it filled with color references and photographs I have taken of water and nature. A gallery wall allows me to live with works in progress and study them over time. Smaller paintings and color studies are placed throughout the room, creating a quiet sense of continuity. A bookshelf with my favorite art books sits beside a comfortable chair, a place for reading or for considering next steps. Drying racks and storage keep the work moving forward. A large window brings in steady natural light and fresh air, shaping how I see color and surface. The studio becomes intertwined with the work itself. It supports concentration and allows me to stay with a painting long enough to understand what it needs.

If you would like to see the space and the work up close, you are welcome to visit the studio. I am happy to arrange a time that works for you.