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Romance of the studio

October 6, 2017

The image of the "romantic studio" is interesting to me not necessarily for the way my work exists in the environment in which it was conceived or for its conversation with the other works finished and unfinished around it. It is interesting to me as I think about the studio as a dwelling space, and as such the gallery-like curation under which it goes. The studio speaks to home-space in the way that it collects things. Like holiday tchotchkes, materials and studies line walls- characters to keep the artist company. This space is eventually more "home" than home is. Is this the entire motivation for making? For creating these sort of customized companions? My sister makes holiday decorations. She ushers in the start of each season with adorable wreaths, hand-painted signs, color coordinated pillows. These are her objects. They fill her space and keep her company. But they are also there to tell her visitors exactly what she wants them to know about her. She carefully edits what should and should not be viewed in her lifestyle, as we all do. Isn't the artist's studio this way? We curate with the understanding that people will visit and judge its contents. We hide what is too underdeveloped, or research that may confuse "the conversation". Maybe this concept is more relevant to grad school as studio visitors may be fewer and far between outside academia, but I don't know if I believe that the studios written about in these readings were as raw and pure as the writers assume. I believe most studios which anticipate an audience are curated just as an exhibition is curated. If the romance is strictly thanks to the context of the space which conceives the work, then my point is irrelevant. But if the romance of the space itself is in its purity, and lack of qualification or set standards, I don't believe it is so often a given. My own studio is more carefully organized than my own home. This keeps my thoughts in order, yes, but it is also in anticipation of the conversations which happen there. It is my own personal, ever evolving exhibition space. So where can art exist without those boundaries and qualifiers? Is there a space private and safe enough to make unadulterated process viewable?

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