The Shape of Something New

Home ownership is so many things, all at once. It's blissful contentment, knowing you have something of your own--a piece of the world. A real life piece of land that you can stand on and stomp around on. It's a stressful weight, knowing that you have this huge debt, with big repercussions if something bad happens and you can't make payments (although, the same would go for renting). You can change it, modify things, make it your own, while at the same time, there is pressure to fit into society's molds, and so many broken things that need work.

I love it, though. I have always dreamed of owning my own home--ever since I was a little girl. Now, even when the rest of our lives are rough, I can sit back and say, "Babe. We own our own home," and feel proud.

Recently,  we made the unpopular decision to get rid of our guest room and move my studio in there. I say "unpopular" because there seems to be this weird societal pressure on homeowners to have a guest room. A good friend reminded me that our house is our own space to do with what we please, which helped alleviate some of my anti-guest-room guilt. I had been thinking about why I wasn't feeling motivated to be in the studio. What I realized with the garage studio is that it wasn't my own space. Not only was it cold, but I was sharing that space with gym equipment, lawn mowers, and various tools. The energy was all wrong.

So, we moved the bed and boxes and bikes out of the guest room, painted the purple walls white, and since then my bench and work table have taken up residence. We still have yet to move the hydraulic press and rolling mill in, and the soldering station will remain in the garage (this will mean that I have to get a cute little tray to carry items to and from the garage...not too upset about that).

One of the things I love about this move is that I'm getting the chance to reorganize and go through my drawers and discard things. As an artist, I tend to accumulate things that I "might use." Granted, I usually do end up using things, or feeling guilty if I get rid of them and need them later. But then there are items like collected bugs (yes, I used to collect bugs), or old molds for concrete and resin that I most likely will never use. It is refreshing, and renewing. Now, I can't wait to work in the studio. I got all my tools set up the other day and once I am home again (I've been dog/house sitting for 10 days across town) I can get to work on projects. I can even put up shelves! And artwork! I can display my jewelry--the big, eccentric stuff that is purely conceptual and I love to bits!

This, my friends, is part of the dream.



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