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Until the Studio Makes Sense

  • 11 hours ago
  • 5 min read
artist studio sketches and monotype prints of running horses on drawing paper

Yes, I’m a process nerd. But this one didn’t start there.  It started with pain.


Why does the thing I love doing — making pictures — come with so much overhead? I walk into the studio and an hour or two can pass before anything happens.



Why is it so hard to just begin?


I noticed that every time I walked into my studio, I spent time cleaning and putting things away, then pulling them out again — essentially re-deciding what I was going to do before I could actually make a thing.


This tidying and rearranging felt partly necessary — but mostly like friction and avoidance. 


Was it me? Ouch.


Or…maybe the problem wasn’t me — maybe it was the space. What if I treated the studio the way I treat other projects and reviewed it once a week?


The experiment


I decided to try a small experiment — a weekly studio review. Once a week, before my first studio session, I would review the space itself.


My hypothesis was two-fold.  First, if I did a weekly studio review, entering the studio during the rest of the week would be more direct — less circling, clearing, and re-deciding before working.  Second, I’d have less mental noise about what I should be working on. The studio itself would hold the decisions and reminders. I’d be free of that cognitive load.


OK, Tiny Experiments time. For four consecutive weeks, I’d do a weekly studio review using a template I’d put together (you’ll find it at the end of this post).


To keep it lively, I set a constraint: one hour max.  I would move quickly, stay completely in the room, and work directly with the reality of the studio — not in my head.


After four weeks, I would evaluate. Did I waffle less?  Did work start faster? Did the studio feel steadier?


Jumping to the punchline:  It has been a smashing success.


Three months in, the biggest payoff is how I feel when I walk into the studio. High spirits. No second-guessing. No clearing a space before I can begin.


I’ve given myself the best chance to focus and enjoy being there.


So here we go —


What happens during the review

artist easel with drawings and monltype prints in prgress during weekly studio review

The first 10–15 minutes are about orienting in the space. I walk the room — drawing table, easel, whiteboard with the week’s work, the “up next” cart with a few supplies for play, my reading chair and shelves, the sink. I  touch papers. Open drawers. Check tools.


I’m not solving problems yet. I’m simply seeing what’s there. What am I actually dealing with right now? What’s active? What can be put away?


I pull forward things that are active. I put away what is reference, dormant, or complete for now.


It’s surprisingly physical. Sometimes I cross the room just to put away a piece of charcoal or gather prepared paper into one place.


No decisions beyond whether something stays out or goes away. I’m simply coming to terms with the present state of the studio.


The next 15–25 minutes,  I look at the work that’s actually in play.


This week, for example, I’m making two pictures for The Year of the Horse series. Do I see evidence of those projects on my table and easel?


I’m asking versions of this ridiculously simple question: Do the materials in the room match what I’m actually working on this week?


This quickly leads to small practical shifts: yesterday’s pencils scooped away, red paint set on palette paper, prepared sheets moved to the right surface.


Funny how quickly things spread around a studio.  Written pages crowd out printmaking paper before I even notice.

studio wall with sketches and compositin studies for drawing project

I circle again to the table with the monotype materials. I pick them up and see what comes to mind. I write a quick Post-it and stick it on the brayer.


What’s hiding?  Just this week, it was my illustrated journal — in it, I’d begun a page about the fear of war.  Tucked away on a shelf. Out it came where I could see it. And suddenly I’m excited about that page again.


As I wrap up this alignment stage, I make one last pass through the room with a different question: How am I feeling?


At the easel — any hesitation? At the drawing table? Sitting in my reading chair — any unwanted pulls?  My “up next” cart — the Asian papers, oil pastels, texture-making tools are there — anything that feels heavy instead of playful?

artist studio cart with drawing materials staged for next session

I make a small decision on the spot.  That’s usually enough to quiet the mind.


The final 10–20 minutes of the review are about readiness.


At this point, I’m clear about what I’m working on, and most materials are already where they need to be.


One last walk around:  Is there any niggling thing standing between me and actually working?


This part is quick and light.


Then the review ends. Hard stop.


Afterward, I jot down a couple of quick impressions: Do I feel oriented and ready? What helped most in this review? What felt unnecessary? Just a phrase or two.


Then I leave the studio.


Inevitably, I walk out energized. I know what I’ll be doing when I come back.


Why this works


This review works for me largely because it’s a tangible, physical form of problem-solving.


I’m not planning abstractly. I’m walking around, handling materials, grouping things together, experiencing the space. Almost nothing happens in my head. The studio itself holds the decisions.


I already have other systems for tracking projects and planning work. This review doesn’t replace those.  Instead, it protects creative energy. I don’t have to remember what matters — it’s already visible in the room.


The space becomes legible again.


And until the studio makes sense again, nothing else matters.


Afterword


Here’s the Weekly Studio Review template I now use. A printable PDF is available below.


Try it for a few weeks.

35–60 minutes.

See → Sort → Stage.


Notice what changes.


I’d love to know how it goes for you.


The Weekly Studio Review


A 35–60 minute reset — a weekly walk-through that brings the studio back into alignment with the work.


SEE — 10–15 min


Look at the studio as it actually is.

Walk the room slowly.Handle materials.


  • What is present?

  • What is active?

  • What can be put away?


Reset surfaces so the current state of the work becomes visible.


SORT — 15–25 min


Bring the studio into alignment with current work.

Pull active projects forward.Let dormant work step aside.


  • Which projects are genuinely active right now?

  • Do the materials in the room match them?

  • What small decision can be made now?


STAGE — 10–20 min


Set the space for making.

Place materials where they will be used.


  • What would help the next session start cleanly?

  • What friction can be removed?


Leave the work ready to be picked up.


THE RESULT


When you next walk into the studio:


  • The work is visible

  • The materials are ready

  • The next move is obvious


You can simply begin.



 
 
 

2 Comments


jenifer
8 hours ago

Love this idea. I'm not a visual artist, but the visual clutter of my study gets in the way of getting things accomplished and adds substantially to stress (where are those bills again...). Am definitely going to experiment with your approach. Key, I suspect, will be leaving my computer screen dark.

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dawncoblanco
8 hours ago

Love that you have recognized how to make the most of your space and your vision of the work you want to accomplish each day. Those of us who are NOT artists, but like processes, align our ancient old manila folders in the pile, with the highest priority (or most fun project) on top. Of course, the darn computer screen is involved and can take me away to frivolous spaces. THAT is the downside!

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all images © 2023 Caroline L. Clarke

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