Something has been brewing in me. Last weekend I was at a seriously low ebb and became worried about myself. The weather didn’t help. I walked along the path above the seafront, sat on a bench and cried, not for the first time that day, or that week. My mood matched the weather. Bleak. I felt concerned and confused by the depth of the sadness in me, especially as I have much to be grateful for and very few wants.
I’m not good at crying, I find it physically painful, but the tears interrupted my intended walk and I slumped onto the bench. Thankfully, there is an outsize hood on my raincoat and not many people were about on a wet Saturday afternoon. A couple of dog walkers passed by. I imagined my mum sitting by my side and what she might say.
On Sunday I met up with my son for lunch in my favourite restaurant. He put his hand across the table when my tears began, his face a picture of fear and concern, saying he didn’t know how to fix things. He’s a great fixer of things with his uber rational, scientific and logical mind.
“I’m not sure I want what I thought I always wanted”, I said.
“I am surprised you bought the flat”, he said.
“I’m talking about the studio”, I replied, “I’m not happy in it. I miss my old flat and I miss making art in my home. I had that table beneath the kitchen window for four years and I miss it. The studio feels an inconvenience. And I don’t like the feeling of pressure that I have to spend time in it to justify the cost, or run workshops to pay the rent for it.”
“Well if you don’t want to go there for a while just don’t go there”, he said.
“But it seems such a waste not to use it. I’ve spent years longing for an art studio, and now I have a place I’m not sure I want it”.
“If you don’t want it, don’t have it, that’s a simple solution” he said, pleased with finding a way forward.
“I don’t trust myself. What if I give it up and then regret my decision in a few months time?”
“Look for somewhere else?” He rubbed his finger across my hand.
I felt better for voicing a thought that’s been hiding in my mind for a while, though it’s not the only source of my distress. A week of crying due to a deep sadness felt like something passing through me, like the cold fronts in the weather. I’m not sure I feel sad about the studio, more like confusion, the thought of ‘how can this be?’
This week I’ve had a new kitchen installed in my flat. I spent more time in the studio to avoid the noise caused by the workmen assembling units and sawing worktops. What a transformation! Everything is looking splendid.
There’s more rain today. After a bright start the light is now dreary and grey. I’ve been cleaning to remove the residue of fine dust that’s settled in my living room which became a temporary workspace for the fitters. In my head I am moving the furniture to create space for my art work table. There are two possible places it could go. I am imagining how I might convert my spare room into an art studio; I would need lots of shelving. I’ve been playing this mental Tetris for weeks.
I remember the excitement of finding the studio space last August. I remind myself that part of my motive in moving to Eastbourne was to have an art studio by the sea, by which I meant a separate space. What has surprised me with my recent move into this flat is how much I miss having all my art materials on hand, and how much I miss that folding table beneath the kitchen window. The kitchen here isn’t big enough to house a table, but there is enough space in the living room. Going to the art studio holds a similar quality to having to drive to the gym after work on a dark wet winter’s night and you really don’t feel like getting in the car. It is winter and it has been mainly wet, dark and grey. Will I feel differently when spring arrives?
In my son’s head the answer is simple and straightforward. And perhaps he is right? I do have a tendency to overthink. Right now, for many reasons, I don’t trust myself, so I’m giving myself more time.
Hopefully, time and the coming of spring will do the job.
Funny isn´t it, I´m so much looking forward to fall, the season I love most. But I´m chasing off to Spain to continue my Camino walk. So spring it shall be.
I’ve been contemplating a studio off of our property to get me out and about more. You’ve given great points for both sides. Change, for me, always takes time. And then adjustment. I hope it falls into place for you 🧚🎨