I don’t have a studio, instead I have areas of the house in which I can let myself make. There is a “shed” in the garden, which is actually more of a summerhouse, but I can only really use it in the warmer months – in the winter it becomes a materials store. There is my desk where I work, and where the keyboard and track pad get pushed to one side, and there is of course the dining room table, which has rarely stayed clear of projects since we moved in 18 years ago.
With the exception of the shed, if I’m working at my desk or the dining room table, of course, I’m prone to be being interrupted. Surrounded by domesticity – perfect in many ways – but distracting in others. There is a tenuous and permeable boundary between art and life.
Saturday was a rare day when I spent 4 hours making, without anything or anyone distracting me.
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