I’m in the process of setting up a small creative space at home where I can write, learn more about photography, and maybe even pick up a drawing pencil and paint brush again. The operative word being (corner-of-a-room) small. But in coming to understand that the creative pursuits in my life are as vital as oxygen itself to keeping all of my parts happily connected, I’d like to dedicate even the smallest area of an already shared space to honouring that.
Waiting until an ideal or dream space materializes to take creative risks is perhaps the darkest kind of self-defeat. It’s a way of cheating yourself out of what could happen, what you might create amidst the waiting. And perhaps that’s the fearful part, one of the reasons we remain stuck, unfulfilled: telling ourselves we can’t paint because we don’t have a real studio; we can’t play music because we don’t have the right set-up; we can’t write because there’s no door to close on a room that is our own. And, well, I’m sure you can fill in the rest.
It’s true that there are all sorts of fertile conditions in which creativity takes root and flourishes. And those vary for each of us. I know (and my children will eagerly testify with frowns) that I need a quiet atmosphere to read, and certainly to write. Hell be to anyone who sits near me in a library (or, I’ll admit, even the living room) who is even murmuring … I will stealthily, unhappily, approach. I know that I need this meditative time to cancel out the noise not just around me, but within me. I am (demonstrably) frazzled without it and cannot write a word. Then there are instances where my creative state of mind is influenced less by the conditions of the space itself, and more by the intense buzz that’s generated from creating alongside others.
But here’s the thing of it all: I’m at a point in life where there are simply more years behind than there are ahead. Unless, like my grandmother, I win the gene lottery and ring in 103 years, this is an unalterable fact, as startlingly clear as crystalline water. I still manage to do a fine job of entangling myself in worry about it. Which is largely unproductive, because after all, none of us ever knows how much of life lies ahead. Worry aside, it means that I’m so very ready to make this next stretch truly matter. To construct and create with consideration for all that is left, to capture moments with thoughtfulness and even gentleness—to make a difference to my life and in the lives of those I love and whose paths may join with mine.
And so this has me thinking about how and where and what I create. While my space is small, my ideas for transforming it are immense. Looking at images of other people’s workspace ignites possibility. And it has me wanting to share some of these creative spaces with you weekly, as I pull together my own little patch. I’d love to hear if you have a spot dedicated to creative work, whether it’s a room, a corner, a studio, a couch, or a favourite place outdoors.
To kick things off, I bring you London journalist Daisy Garnett’s workroom (oh, the table! The TABLE.) Some call it her office. I call it home-comfort-perfection. Give me the patina of old wooden floor boards, a threadbare rug and a farmhouse table and I’m done in. As Daisy says:
“This room may look jumbled, but it’s a temple of minimalism compared with how I used to live! My partner says I hoard things and we have a rule that if a new book comes in, another has to go. But my workroom is full of pieces acquired with love. I say ‘my’ workroom, although it’s meant to be shared. I have a real, visceral feeling of it being my space.”
bliss ❤
daisy garnett photographed by: simon brown / also featured here
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Thank you so much for sharing these creative spaces and ideas. That office or room or whatever-you-want-to-call it above… how utterly fun. I look forward to you sharing your ideas for changing the space you create in.
I’m re-crafting a few spaces, limited temporarily by things like funds and physics.
I have a modified desk that’s been turned into a stand-up desk through the auspices of cardboard boxes and various stacked books, and a desk chair in a corner that sits in the living room for times when the stand-up desk isn’t working. But as much as space sometimes really affects how much I can write, I love your point about it being self-defeatist, and how we need to fight that. Thank you for that, I’m going to remember it next time those various spaces of mine aren’t working for me. 
Oh, I loved hearing about your space, Megan. Thanks for sharing that here! Each of these comments in this thread is inspiring and a reflection of who you are as creative individuals. I find it interesting to notice how my moods and needs change in relation to my creative work, and therefore what sort of space I want to occupy. Sometimes it’s at a table, other times it’s on the couch or the bed. And still other times it’s outdoors with (or without) other people. I totally get the “funds and physics” aspect!
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I’m in exactly the same place. Small house, being distracted easily, dreaming of studios and space and windows and if only…. For now, I’ve decided to turn around the living room furniture to gain a piece of wall for painting again. Never mind what infrequent dinner guests think of that! The idea being, if all my stuff it there, ready to see and use and remind, there are no excuses. At the same time making me anxious “what if I do all this and still don’t manage to get started?”
But I still dream of having all my stuff in one room, just mine, instead of stuffed into nooks all over the house.
I so completely understand your anxious thought,”what if I do all this and still don’t manage to get started?”. I’ve had similar thoughts myself. I see this as a commitment to beginning the process. It’s a way of showing belief in myself. I’m going to let the rest unfold, however it may, and try not to weigh myself down with judgment along the way. I’m excited for you! And excited for me … X
I enjoyed this and look forward to seeing more of the creative spaces others have created, and eventually your own. I have a lovely little office where I write. Although my desk is always a mess I enjoy looking around at some of the interesting things we’ve collected in our travels, and the view from the window. Yesterday I happened to glace out and saw the hugest rainbow embracing the valley below. What a treat!
Your view sounds gorgeous. I came across a website yesterday dedicated to the things that people have collected while traveling. I was in one of those internet-overload search blurs and can’t for the life of me remember what is was called!?! I like the sound of your office. And the rainbow is just an amazing bonus.
Hey J
Great post. I’ve been thinking about Creative spaces too this week.
Right now I am claiming/reclaiming some spaces around the house. I’ve rescued Alphonse, my friendly gargoyle, from storage and set him up on my side of the shared work table in our main room. And I’ve moved into the bottom bunk with my plastic lap table that I work on (in the scribble/sketch book or on the laptop). I’ve even tucked a bulletin board in there with me and moved my desk altar in from the trailer to sit beside me on the dresser.
The trailer is a NEW space – given to me by a friend.
It is placed and levelled, but will probably wait for spring to be “worked over” and claimed as a space that will truly be mine.
I did work in it while I was doing the 3day Novel contest this year.
So great to go out and close the door and… be alone with my words and thoughts and the smell of pinon incense wafting….
I shall dream on it through the winter and re-make it in the Spring.
I look forward to seeing your space develop.
I definitely wouldn’t call that room jumbled – inspiring and personalised is a very different thing
Wishing you well with your creative endeavours. Space does matter in some ways but I think it is more to do with mental attitude than the physical attributes of the space itself. If there is enough effort put into tellings yourself ‘this is where I write/work/paint’ then there is a greater chance of fulfilling the ambition. I once had a cupboard udner the stairs as a makeshift studio. Cramped as hell and I could not stand up without smacking my head on the stairs above me, but I wrote some (to me) enduring music in there and produced some recordings I still listen to more than 20 years later.
I know the ‘noisy mind’ thing well too, however, and sympathise. I found Julia Cameron’s book ‘The Artist’s Way’ quite helpful in helping me understand the obstacles I put in front of my own creativity. And why.
Sorry, this turned into a bit of an essay. I am sitting in ‘the place where I write’ after all.
Oh, I love that you’ve shared this, head-smack and all. And I love that you feel you can do this here. Place and state of mind have such an ever-changing relationship with respect to the creative process. I really get that. My son gave me a copy of ‘The Artist’s Way’ and I’ve recently committed to working through it. I’m excited to see how that unfolds! Write on … write on … in your special place.
…and she comes back again…
don’t mean to “hog” the comments but had to pop back on to say that I LOVE “The Artist’s Way” and, just last week I found a copy of “The Vein of Gold” in the second hand store in town and brought it home. Have just begun to work through it.
Huzzah for Cameron and all she offers and …
Huzzah for us for committing to do the work/play within the pages of these great books.
go easy -p
I’m savouring your comments. Thanks for bringing me into your world and your workspace! I think a trailer to call one’s own would be pretty damn marvelous! Interesting to hear that you’ve explored ‘The Artist’s Way’. A number of my friends have, and they’ve been shining on about it for years. So amongst all of you, I figure I’m in great company.