So, it's art day. Of the pedal to the metal, cram-like-it's-finals-week variety. My friend Naomi of the WV Arts Council (and Art Gawk and FestivALL) got me hooked up with a new Artwalk venue, at the Romano Law Offices next door to Taylor Books. I've decided to do some analog stuff- meaning, in non-geek terms, traditional media.
What you can read between the lines here is that I'll be needing work space. In the physical world. Not Photoshop. In my house. In The Studio. The situation in the studio is rather less than optimal. It is in fact more like a land fill or perhaps a clinical study in chronic pack-rat-ism. A closet gone terribly awry and taken to a pathological conclusion maybe.
However, there is some hope. I've watched Clean House and while it may seem to a casual observer that I was simply enjoying pretty design and excellent hair accessorizing, I swear I was internalizing. I asked for a sturdy plastic drawer set for my birthday, and the in-laws obliged. I have a smaller set as well, so the strategy is that I can keep only what I can store in 3 bookshelves, one wall shelving unit, and two art supply cabinets. Also, what clothes I can fit in the closet:)
This is ambitious to a logic-defying extreme as a one-day project, but I have a plan for that, too. Today, I need only to excavate my drafting table surface (oh yes; that will necessarily stay, too) and locate the glues, paints, and drawing tools for this project. Alas, I have trouble with a non-nuclear-option approach to cleaning. My obsessive brain can't stand to leave it half-done, but again, I am armed for battle. This quirk can be mitigated by managing anxiety, so I have a giant bottle of chill herbs and am brewing chamomile tea by the quart. No hyperbole- actual quarts, iced because as of this summer Appalachia = Jungle.