My studio is my creation space.
Hidden in the heart of grubbiest Chatham, above the independent health shop, no public access, no WiFi, no social distractions or management looking over my shoulder.
I'm usually here on my own, just me and some good music and all my gathered materials. I can do whatever I like (within reason!)
What a wonderful thing!
What could possibly go wrong?
It's also where I confront my negativity. All my fears and doubts about making work are waiting for me every day I am here. Procrastination whistles softly from the comfy chair in the next space. Potential distractions abound.
Sometimes it's the sheer freedom of choice that paralyses me.
What should I do first? Clearly nothing while I decide!
Eternal dilemmas nag at me - make work that sells or make work that matters? Do what is popular or experiment? What kind of artist am I? Am I any good?
And so on...
I pick up the scissors, maybe a pen and I just start something, anything...
Each cut removes a devil's head, each mark defaces their fearful masks...
Snip. Snip.
