As far as I remember, my studio began with painting next to the side of my bed, between the window and the edge of my bed frame. I still remember it fondly. But if I have to think deeper, then it takes me back to the 2nd grade, when my wooden school bench offered me that same space.

How transitory is time, and the experiences that come along with it. But the creative energy, the stride, the spirit in its full glory that gets ignited happens from within. And for me, it’s happened in all these places, long before the beautiful studios you see in the images above, and long after, as the story carries me into new spaces and whatever the future may hold. It is in the small fortune cookie quote or a cut out piece and the knitted collage of small things that I surround myself with. It is not about four walls or a perfect setup.

So my studio is in a bench while in 2nd grade,
In a sliver of floor beside my bed and my window,
between all the small and big paper cutouts and books and artistic mess that inspire me.
and now in the beautiful rooms that reflect how far I have come.

My studio has been anywhere where my creative energy has awakened.
It’s in this shift, a sacred zone that moves with me, that grows as I grow, and burns from within.

And wherever I go next, I know my studio will find me just as it always has.