Studio progress; moving right along!

We are aiming to largely be out of my current studio by the end of this weekend, so I'm afraid both the blog and the easel may be neglected for the next week or so. I do have a few pictures to post of the progress on my studio though. The builders had a bit of a rough start in the beginning slogging around in the mud due to the pretty heavy rain we had just prior to their arrival. But once the ground started to firm up, things moved much quicker.  Here's the way it came along over the weekend:

By Monday I was able to take a peek inside. Here is the framing for the high windows on the wall of my painting area:

One of the builders, Gene, after a hard day's work. Gene felt my picture needed a center of interest, so he kindly obliged:

This is the portico side as it looked this morning. This side faces the back porch. This area will be my future office area. There is some loft space for storage in the portico above the door.

When I looked outside this A.M. they had pulled out the siding, roofing, doors and windows. Not sure how far they'll get with all of that, but based on the progress so far, I imagine things will look very different by evening's end.

Studio progress; concrete is poured!

We've actually begun the first stages of moving my studio. We spent the weekend movingmy office and carving out a temporary setup at home. Next weekend we'll move my painting stuff and set up the temporary studio at another location. So for a while, my office computer and my studio work-space are going to be separated, which means my blogging is going to be (even more) erratic over the next few weeks as we move and I get used to my new temporary setups. Not an ideal situation, but I rather expected this given the tight timeline we put ourselves on to get the new studio built.

Meanwhile, progress has been made on the studio building. Here are a couple of shots of the foundation:

Forms were set, in preparation for pouring the concrete:

After the concrete was poured they took the forms off:

This morning the concrete guys are finishing up their work, including back-filling and grading the ground, and then we'll be ready for the builder. We've gotten word from the builder that they can be ready to start this week, so long as my special order doors come in. Fingers crossed!

Golden Hour on the James River

Miracle of miracles, I actually painted something this week. I decided to stave off the moving insanity by paying a restorative visit to Brown's Island for a little plein air painting on the James River:

"The Golden Hour" Oil on Multimedia ArtBoard, 9x12" ©Jennifer Young

Brown's Island is not too far from my current downtown studio, and painting there the other evening really made me appreciate anew what a uniquely beautifulwildlife refuge we have running right through the heart of our city. Just down stream, cranes and geese were resting and fishing on the rocks, creating an interesting counterpoint to the cars zooming across the nearby Lee Bridge and the train trestles that loomed directly over my head.

Remnants of old pilings and bridge footings (like the ones shown to the right of the foreground trees in my painting) also served to remind me that this location was the industrial heart of Richmond's recent past.  Today Brown's Island is a lovely part of the James River Park system that feels both wild and urban at once. It's also a popular venue for outdoor concerts and festivals like the upcoming Richmond Folk Festival. (Reminder Richmonders--the festival is this weekend! Tents are already being raised and lots of work is being done in preparation, so don't forget to come out and support this event!)

As for the painting, I painted this scene in the late afternoon/early evening time frame. When I started I didn't notice the bits of red that were in the trees. It wasn't until the sun got a little lower and lit up the trees just so that the brilliant burst of autumn reds revealed themselves. That's one of the joys of plein air painting--these kinds of little miracles unfold before your eyes as you witness the evolutionary effects of light in nature. In these days when I seem to be going a mile a minute, I'm all the more appreciative of the experience.

Lean times ahead? Some food for thought (for artists.)

You'd have to live under a rock not to know that economic anxiety is rampant these days. And it looks like what's going down on Wall Street won't leave too many sectors of the economny untouched, including (especially?) those in the arts community. In fact, when the economy and the housing market suffers, the retail outlets and galleries usually follow, and many artists feel the crunch. In my own career I've noticed a slow down for some time. Thankfully my art business hasn't come to a screeching halt, but times are different now than they used to be. And while I realize that there are ebbs and flows in any business, it's easy to look at the news and wonder just how long this current "ebb" will last.  As artists, there is a lot we can do other than wring our hands in worry. On the practical side, we can start by taking a good look at our expenditures, and by streamlining and simplifying, and taking new approaches to creative marketing. It's a positive approach, but it's harder for some people than for others. I, for one, am downsizing by moving my studio. And while this move is also a positive one, it took me a while to feel like it wasn't one of defeat or loss.

Don't get me wrong, I am very grateful and excited about my upcoming new home studio. But fora while during the lead-up to this decision, I had a lot of angst that in doing so, I was somehow retreating. In essence there was a big part of me that felt like I failed. It felt like I was a failure at my business, but the psychological trickle- down effect was that I had also somehow failed as an artist too. 

After all, it was a mere two years ago that I had my shiny new gallery grand opening, and here I am packing it up again. Perhaps I didn't do enough advertising? Perhaps it wasn't the right location? Or perhaps I just didn't allow myself enough time to get established a the location I was in? On the business side there were many "perhapses".   But on the artistic side I also found myself questioning something much more personal. Perhaps the real reason was that I just wasn't a very good artist. Who am I to think I can make a career out of my art? Who do I think I am? I am the worst artist on the planet.

And so, in spite of all the good that I know is inherent in this move, it hasn't been without a good deal of internal struggle. Logically I know that there are many reasons for the change I'm making, and that the move is more aligned with who I am and who I want to become. Logically I know also that while financially I was not becoming the next Warren Buffett, I was able to pay my bills from my art business, and could foresee no immediate reason why I couldn't continue to do so. And logically I also know that while I can always, always improve my skills, I am probably not the "worst artist on the planet" either. But perhaps the best bit of logic was something my friend Robin said to me over lunch when I was in the throes of my angst-filled decision making process: 

 "Don't be a prisoner of your pride. Sometimes what appears to be backwardmovement is actually the way forward. Do what's right for you."

Of course, I believe she was right. And as I observe all of this financial uncertainty on the world stage, I do think that this move will help me to better weather the storm. 

But in addition to physically streamlining my work environment, I've also come to another realization. Works of quality withstand even the harshest times. Artist Robert Genn has made this very point in his most recent post on his inspirational site for artists, The Painter's Keys:

 "Recessions are blessings. Historically, recessions and depressions have been times when "important" work gets made. Realistically, our financial outlay for equipment and art materials (unless your medium is gold) is relatively minor. In hard times artists need to get themselves as debt free as possible and invest in the joy of their vision."

Haven't you noticed that even in the toughest of times there are still those who thrive? And its the artists who have made the wise investments in their craft, their vision, and their voice who set themselves apart in the good times and especially in the bad. So while there's nothing I can do about what's unfolding on Wall Street, I can take advantage of the relative quiet in the art market by focusing even harder on my own craft and vision. Now is the time to experiment and to learn anew, and maybe even come out of all of this as a better artist than I would have been otherwise.