Being an artist and a musician usually means working from home, unless you are wealthy enough to afford a separate studio because you sold out at your degree show.
I was essentially homeless for six years or more when I lived in a basement at the Brighton Arts Club. I had no windows and bare minimum facilities but it made sense to save the money on a very costly flat by the sea. We artists are used to the struggle.
Now at least I do not run an arts club and my studio is a home first and a business second. Things have improved. But there are still times of claustrophobia and overwork where the days have no clear start and end and the obsession with creative endeavour takes hold.
I had hauled up for the winter in a velvet styled fourposter bed under a nook in the studio.
It was cosy and felt protective from Covid-19. I hid away for many months along with the rest of the world as we wondered if we would die. I came off social media, worked like a trojan spending my funding from the Future's Venture, Foundation, and became semi-nocturnal in pyjamas that should have been in a horror flick.
But now, March 2021, sees a promise of general release from Lockdown and new found freedoms in a month or so. It is spring, the days are lighter, the public mood more vibrant. I owe it to myself get dressed and start taking selfies again.
I began by clearing out cupboards. One was jam packed with clothes and recycling fabrics from my cancelled Ecofam Fashion Show which was inevitably doomed because of the pandemic. It was a big cupboard I grant you, I could have slept in it but for the washing machine.
It took a week to clear out the fabrics and move the art materials in. I threw out ten bin liners of recycling and trash. It hurt a bit, I confess, because things can be so useful in the never never. But honestly, I have already forgotten the pain of letting go and now I feel all cleansed....like a virgin.
Yesterday it was time to move the furniture. Virgins need fresh paraphernalia.
The long and short of it is that I moved the four poster bed and I now have a view.
Myself and the cat woke early to birdsong and trees, albeit framed by a less than generous window, it is nonetheless a view of the world outside.
It feels incredible. What is it about a few shuddering leaves, some strewn light and regardless skies, that makes one feel such privileged calm?
I am sitting in bed typing and staring at my view between thoughts. The words come easy as spring, like an intravenous drip (my drug of choice) pumps through my creative veins.
My room with a view is a wonderful start to this fine day.
© 2021 Sarnia dela Maré