(By the way, if you haven’t read this fabulous book, Who Moved My Cheese, you need to!)
CHANGE
Change is an inevitable part of life and, unlike most people, when faced with change I see the promise that the change will bring. Ah, the promise. In my mind’s eye I see the world how it can be and salivate at its prospects. But OH, how I dread the process of change. The process. Ah what I’d give for the ability to just flip the switch and everything is changed, and you’re all adjusted to the change. But no. Change is a process.
So clearly this story is going to be about change. Think Who Moved My Cheese for the artist. Change and how it affects the artistic process.
IN THE BEGINNING When Mr. D and I moved to Wallace, Nova Scotia we had purchased a house that was not just a downsize, but would require a significant renovation – think kitchen, bathroom, envelope, layout – the whole shebang. At the time, I had just committed to learning how to paint, using real brushes, not digital ones, so having my own studio space was critical to me.
When we arrived in Nova Scotia and saw the house for the first time (yes, we bought the house through FaceTime) we found a long room at the back that was disjointed from the rest of the house. We decided that with some redesign we would better connect this space with the rest of the house and also divide it into two rooms. One portion would become a dining room and the other was designated for my studio. That was in late 2021 by the way.
By January, 2022, I was firmly ensconced in my new studio space, with its imaginary wall separating it from the dining room, all ready to learn to paint. Two walls of my new space were almost entirely windows, with one patio door, all ill-equipped to handle the cold of winter. The portions of the walls that weren’t glass were covered in tongue and groove pine. A deep ochre shade. The ceiling is a terracotta shade reminiscent of old cottage stained decks. There was no overhead light, just a small sconce with a yellow-toned glass that when turned on added a weak glow of more warm colour to the room. Now to put this studio in perspective, in Ontario I had a fabulous studio space where all the supplies for the various mediums I worked in could be both kept and used. It was light, bright, and full of charm. The space oozed creativity! What a change! But I embraced the change. I am an artist and here I was about to learn a new skill. I had committed to learn how to paint and this space was to become my painting studio. That was an exciting concept.
The first thing to go into my Nova Scotia studio was my work table. Seven years earlier I had designed and built a six foot table that I used as part of my working space for my creative endeavours. I put the table with a desk-top easel against one wall and pulled up a chair. I put my beading cabinet on the imaginary wall to delineate the space, using its top for my special art printer. I filled a bookcase with books and supplies. I tucked my favourite chair in a corner, with canvases hidden behind it. I made the space my own – as best I could. So much change though. New home, new community, two hours away from the amenities we were used to. Oh, so much change! I think because mentally everything was new, and I was being challenged by the learning-to-paint process, all while doing it in a new space, I just took a deep breath and went along for the ride. That is not to say that there weren’t freak out days, when all the changes overwhelmed me, but I’m tenacious, so I persevered.
THESE DAYS So that was three years ago. The whole house is being renovated, and we’re making progress, but my makeshift studio has remained much as before due to other reno priorities. Some small changes have taken place as my painting skills developed. I decided that I wanted to paint larger. I also wanted to stand while painting so that I have the ability to put movement into my work. So I designed a French cleat system for the wall that Mr. D installed it for me. Then, when the whole outside of the house got new windows, doors and siding, I had to move my wall easel to a different wall, but this was a happy adjustment as with the new windows and that drafty patio door gone, the room was much warmer. The spaces where the windows once were are now filled with insulation batts. Talk about ugly! But it works.
So this is how my studio has remained until late December, 2024. In October, 2024, I notified Mr. D that it was now time to focus our renovation on my studio space. I wanted a wall built as I needed the wall space. I work on multiple large paintings at the same time so I need the hanging space for these paintings.
LET THE CHANGES BEGIN When I requested the wall be built, I had naively thought I could continue to paint in my space. The new wall was opposite my easel wall so we had space for both – or so we thought. On Day One however, things got complicated quickly, (as they do with renovations,) and we made the decision for me to move out. This was not a decision made lightly as moving out is a change that has ramifications on my painting process. While my current space was aesthetically displeasing, I had made it functional. I knew that in the long run this was all to my benefit, the artist in me however worried that moving my painting space would affect my process. Could I paint in a new space?
Soon I had moving boxes pulled out of storage and was making the hard decisions of what would go into hiding and what would move with me to the temporary, tiny, studio space – in the living room. Deep breath. “OK,” I said, “I can handle this.”
The space I have allocated as my painting space is small. It’s in the living room, on a wall that is going to be ripped out (eventually) so there was no groaning when the wall easel was installed on the wall or when large hooks were put in the ceiling joists. Space-wise it’s 4 X 3 feet, but somehow I have managed to make, hopefully, the right hard decisions, and keep the most important tools of my painting process accessible.
A dramatic change that I did not anticipate, but I should have, was the wall colour in my temporary space. The previous year, in planning for my new studio, I had begun to research the best colour for painting the studio walls. Guess what? White isn’t the ideal colour. Actually, it’s probably the worst option, other than black. Historically, the ‘Greats’ painted in studios with wall colours such as putty, light ochre, stone. Now while they didn’t have 50 shades of white to choose from back then, if they did they wouldn’t have chosen white as light reflects off white walls affecting the artist’s perception of colour. And, wow, is that true! The wall in my new space is white – fortunately, not a cold white, there is a touch of warmth in it – think Benjamin Moore’s Chantilly Lace – but when I turn on my painting light (a 4-foot LED ceiling light set on daylight), everything seems to glow. Fortunately I have a large grey-scale sheet I made last year, tucked under my glass surface to help keep me on track.
Now I shouldn’t complain about wall colour, as I have moved from the coldest part of the house to the warmest part of the house, but it turns out this is also a big change, that effects my painting process. The wood stove that handles our heating needs is about 15 feet away from where my palette sits. My paint palette now needs to be sprayed with water frequently during each painting session to try to compensate for the drying effect of the warm air. Unfortunately, I’m still adjusting to this change. I’ll pick up some paint to create a petal or a leaf and the paint drags across the canvas, having lost its creamy viscosity. Fortunately the new studio will have underfloor heating, so this, like the space, is a temporary adjustment.
As I adjust to the new surroundings, with Mr. D walking by, behind me, to go get a coffee, or a cat lying on the floor right behind where I’m standing because it happens to be a particularly warm spot, my productivity and ability to focus has wavered.
“REMEMBER JACLYN, THIS IS ALL TEMPORARY.” Living with these temporary changes requires that I keep reminding myself that this is all temporary and in the end I will benefit. While there is lots of building ahead for Mr. D and me, eventually I will have a studio space with finished walls and a wall easel hanging system on at least two of the walls. Exciting to think about.
We creatives seem to be much more free-spirited than we actually are. Like the rest of the population, artists can be resistant to change. In reality though, “moving the cheese” for an artist isn’t just about them being inflexible to change – change in environment can affect the whole creative process. That said, I am the one that moved the cheese so, as No. 1 Daughter would be want to say… “Suck it up Princess!” To which I reply, “I can make this work. It is temporary after all.”
True Story!