I have a studio?

This post is just a record of my excitement and joy in settling into my art practice.

The urge to get back to painting again snuck up on me over the course of last fall. I kept telling myself I’d do it once I had a space set up. I’ve done this with so many urges over the years. I’ll write once I have the right notebook. I’ll practice piano once I have time. I’ll quit playing games on my phone until an unreasonable hour once I’m a responsible adult. And so far… none of those have panned out.

So imagine my surprise that this spring has proven to be a change. By the end of April, I finished setting up my “art room,” and I had been regularly painting through that process. A month and a half later, I’m painting and drawing very nearly every day. I’m improving skills that I thought I’d even have rudimentary control of, and I am only getting more excited about continuing this journey.

We’ve had a lot of people come through the house in the last month visiting, and I can now hear, “Oh, wait, this is an art studio. Wait, you’re an artist?” without flinching. Even earlier in the spring, I would have backpedaled and downplayed my level of interest and commitment. I dabble. I find it to be a good stress reliever. I just like to play around.

This is bullshit. I’m an artist. Always have been, even when I didn’t let myself “indulge.”

I adore my studio. I’ve got a spot to sit and think. I’ve got a great easel with decent light for when I work with acrylics. I’ve got a work table when I’m using watercolor and when I’m planning a more involved piece. I have inspirational pictures and books and mementos scattered around. It’s my favorite place in the house.

Beyond that, though, art is my favorite part of my day. Sketching is growing on me. Probably like a fungus. Painting is deeply satisfying, and I’m working on my first commission. I’m an artist. And this is fun.