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Studio necessities
On this page, I have a list of things that are indirectly involved in my practice. In the studio, I require a certain mindset. This means I need my music, my pictures, my mugs, and other ephemera. The space around me, not only physically, but mentally, decides what kind of work day I will have. Each item listed here brings me comfort and motivates me to create even on hard days.
Music is one of, if not the most, influential aspects of my practice. There is not an artwork that I have made that wasn't created while listening to music (loudly). My music tastes usually bounce around a lot, but when I'm creating, it tends to land in a somber space. Music has always been a way for me to escape. As a child, I would go into my backyard and listen to music in my headphones for hours. I would imagine so many things on the swing set in my yard, hoping my life would change for the better.
I like to imagine the music I listen to as being representative of my work itself; devastatingly beautiful. There are gentle, melodic moments that flow into screaming anger. The many layers in my paintings are reflected in the music, and it fuels me. If I come into the studio and I don't feel the urge to create, I use this music to get into that headspace.
Charcoal drawing has become a staple in my process. I have figured out how to condense my materials so I can easily transport them wherever I go. Using charcoal tethers me to the foundations of creation. Drawing is immediate and messy, a release from the strict planning that a painting can often require. When I feel bogged down by a painting, I can return to my roots with my charcoal.
The containers for my charcoal is also important. The pouch is made from recycled materials. The "Blanche's Southern Charm Mints" tin, previously held mints, as the title suggests. The character Blanche is from a show that reminds me of my grandma, the Golden Girls.
I have always loved keeping my paintbrushes in fun containers. In 2023, I was working on a project focused on my grief for my grandparents. In my search for inspiration, I ventured into Goodwill, where they had a hodgepodge of assorted mugs to sift through. My grandparents were avid coffee drinkers, encouraging me to start my addiction at the early age of 10. I found a couple of mugs that reminded me of Grammy's mug collection, or that I felt she would have loved to add to it.
The vessel in the middle, holding my long handled brushes, was found at a small shop in my home town that sells local artist's wares. My grandma probably would have loved it as well. The purple hearts really drew me to it, as well as its perfect size.
Since my grandparents passing, I have kept photos of them in my studio. My work often stems from my grief over losing them, but I also appreciate having these joyful snapshots to keep love alive in my practice. Grief is love that persists, after all.
All of these photos were found in their home. There is one that is in a wooden frame with characters drawn on it. This frame was made by my roommates grandpa, and then given to me. I felt it was the perfect conjunction of two grandparents who never knew each other, but were both essential to their family's.
My roommate and I love going to art markets and buying from small creators. I love supporting other artists while simultaneously decorating my space. These prints felt descriptive of my practice in that they have sad motifs, but also celebrate small victories. I like the playfulness of the characters, colors, and even the material tests included on the edge of It Might Rain It Might Not. I am inspired by the doodle quality of the prints, and they inspire me to "just draw".
Prints from Justin Michael Will, a local Cleveland Artist, 2024
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