In 2009, I made the decision to add 300 square feet to my tiny house so I could have a studio. A person who has as many interests as I do needs a dedicated space to keep all the materials and tools for painting and other visual arts, sewing, writing, outdoor pursuits and general puttering. For a number of years, my stuff has been crammed into the living space, or kept in storage. The studio was designed and built but not finished. The next year I experienced a major illness and spent the next two years fully recovering. When I was well again, the studio was put on hold while I worked on the exterior of the house. The empty space did not stay empty. I filed crosscut saws in there for awhile, and tinkered around with other projects. Finding enough money to hire an electrician seemed like a major obstacle. But in January of this year, I used my tax refund to do just that. Thanks to the encouragement of friends (who I am sure got tired of watching me dither), the studio is nearing completion. There is insulation, drywall, and heat. I’ve been spending my weekends painting and sanding and finishing. This evening I cut six windowsills. Another evening or two will see the floor sealed.
It’s wonderful! The light comes in from three sides and bounces around the room. I refuse to spend another winter here without space for creativity. I can’t wait to lay out the watercolors. There are several half-finished paintings languishing. I’ll move Gramma’s sewing machine and leave it set up. And I’ll make a corner for writing. There is an essay with a deadline coming along. More about that later.
A house is a work in progress. A life is a work in progress. Projects are started and kept moving (all in their own good time) until they reach fruition or wither on the vine. Not everything we plant lives to bloom and go to seed. That’s the way of it. But it’s all learning, all part of the process. And it is good.