I never read Virginia Woolf’s A Room Of Ones Own, but I quote the title often.
When I was fixing up the Studio Barn, making it mine, I found I couldn’t stop crying. I cried when I cleaned it out, I cried when I vacuumed the ceiling, I cried when I painted the walls and floor, I cried when I washed the windows, I cried when I moved my loom and fabric in.
It wasn’t just that I had a space of my own to work in when I chose to and to do with exactly as I pleased. It was as if I was finding a part of myself that had been hidden, even from me, my whole life. It seemed I had tucked the artist I was, safely away in a deep pocket within me and now it was re-emerging. My whole life I had given pieces of myself away, and moving into the Studio Barn was my first step in becoming whole again. And Jon was the one who offered it to me, not just the space, but the gift of seeing, through someone else’s eyes, who I really was. And I took that gift and ran with it.
And now, at this point in my life, I couldn’t imagine not having a studio. Someplace outside of the house, (I’m not strong enough to resist the pull of a sink full of dishes or a dryer full of clothes.) Where at the end of the day I can leave the scraps of fabric on the floor and the half finished work on my desk, cover my machine, turn off the lights and leave in a moment’s notice. Then come back the next morning and find everything exactly as I left it.
What a gift, and I take it gratefully, every day and every night.
You’re really lucky to have your own place to do your creations. I can’t even begin to get to my sewing room which is upstairs. With weaker legs I can’t manage the steps. With me I have denied the artist side for a while mostly because my parents harped on it so much it was more their decision than mine to be an artist. I don’t like it when people make decisions for me. So I tucked it away for a long time while I explored stuff that interested me. But now I’m back doing some colored pencil drawings, dogs and horses.
Dear Maria,
Oh how I can relate. I have that here in my office, surrounded by my books, music and arts & crafts, my SPACE, I read, write, dream…I even bought a swing hammock/chair when we were in the Keys and hung that from the ceiling, put 2 of your comfy streaming pillows in it, I put on soothing ocean music or jazz on climb into my hammock and IT IS MINE! This inspires me to be who I AM!
This post made me so happy for you, Maria.
Maria – the tears came to my eyes as I read your post. I am so pleased for you. I am sure the giver of the gift is thrilled at your happiness too.
I think tears also wash away the past and make our eyes see the new more clearly.
Peg
Maria,
The potholders are very “patriotic” they remind me of 4th of July picnics, I see them on a table with baked beans and ambrosia salad!
Sincerely,
Sandra
Ah, Sandra, the color is off, it’s not blue, but purple
I hope you find a chance to read ‘A Room of One’s Own’. Truly lovely and empowering.
Well that sounds even prettier but the “off” color still brought back some good memories…so thank you for that! Have a great weekend!
Oh Maria, this was so beautiful. I truly believe every woman should have a space of her own – even if it is a little tiny corner somewhere. It’s amazing how that fills our soul.
My husband built me my little writing studio a few years ago and I wasn’t sure he understood what it truly meant to me. But when it was all done he actually named it for me and said I should call it, “MySpace.calm” and I did! I actually made a sign and it hangs above my window. Such an extra added bonus when your husband understands.
It sounds like you have a wonderful husband Barb, I know how it feels.
Oh Maria, This is one of your most moving posts I’ve read. Your writing skill sent these intense feelings right through me. Bravo!
THanks Cindy