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I’ve been painting for nearly two decades.  During this time, I did not have my own studio, so I’ve painted on Wednesday nights with some fellow artists in a rented space. Some fifteen years ago I attempted a small studio in a back bedroom at home, but it wasn’t practical (too messy) and I gave up after a few months. This year, we took the plunge, and built an outbuilding in the back yard to serve as, among other things, my own personal art studio. It was finished this week. Yowzah!

Step One – Go Cheap? Go Small? Try This? Or That?

My original thinking was to purchase one of those fancy garden sheds that you see outside Home Depot, then have them plop it into the backyard. In this scenario, I would insulate it and drywall it and use a space heater and a window air conditioner for climate control (connected to the house by extension cords I suppose, or magic). Crystal wisely vetoed this every time I brought it up. The temperature in Richmond can get as low as 0^o and as high as 100^oF-plus. Further, a garden shed would lack the one thing an art studio needs above all else: light. Of most significance, it would be, and look, completely half-assed. Any drywall installed by me would look like a sweater knitted out of duct tape. Until it collapsed, that is, at which point it would look like the sweater lost a confrontation with a bazooka.

We gave consideration to varied house additions and reconfigurations allowing for an art studio and each one failed either the cost/benefit or practicality analysis.

Crystal often argues for selling the house and moving someplace having everything we want, including art studio space. Seemed like a lot of work. Plus, I’ve watched HGTV for years now, and have been brainwashed into seeing re-imagination of the home front as the way to go.

We’ve recently done a fair amount of interior renovation in the house, something which I tend to view as reapportioning funds rather than spending them. I wasn’t sure whether constructing an outbuilding which could be used as an art studio (or home office or exercise room or pool hall or “man cave” or “she shed”) could be viewed the same way. So I read about 400 articles on the matter, and learned that a financial return on investment – such as from a kitchen or bathroom upgrade – cannot be assumed. Especially over the short term. An outbuilding will not make a home more marketable, and there is some risk that it could have the opposite effect. However, if you will actively use the building for at least five or more years, you can look at as a quality of life investment along the lines of a swimming pool. We went with that.

Step Two – The Goldilocks Dilemma

The next challenge was determining size. I started with a 10’ by 14’ footprint in mind, which I still think would have been “just right.” We ended up at 12’ x 20’, which I think is too much and which Crystal thinks is not enough. We’re both right. It’s too big for my art studio. It’s not big enough to incorporate all the other potential uses, which include:

1. A place to get away from the cats. Crystal loves to knit, but absolutely cannot do so in the house because within 12 seconds of her sitting down one or both cats climbs onto her lap. This is not an exaggeration. Twelve seconds, max. And not just her, they sit on everybody. At first, Crystal suggested that yarn could be stored in the building. Then maybe a place to sit and knit and read and have morning meditation and coffee without two cats’ butts in her face. That’s how it expanded from 10x14 to 12x20.
2. A place for say, maybe, an elliptical machine. For those days when it is too hot, cold, rainy, snowy, or humid to walk or bike, or too time consuming to go to the gym, we could have an exercise space in the building.
3. A guest room. For those once a decade times when we have multiple house guests, the least honored guest could sleep out there. This consideration came up after construction began and seems silly to me. We have two guest rooms as it is. So – (rude buzzer sound).

Step Three – Deciding Utilities

Electricity for light and climate control was a given. As far as plumbing: to have or not to have, that was the question. Since I will have brushes to clean, it would be nice to have a slop sink out there. Which led to the thought that if we’re gonna do that, might as well put a small half bath in too. Or maybe a full bath? The slippery slope. What it came down to is that the necessity of installing water and sewer lines and an add-on for a bath would tack on who knows how many thousands to the project and tear up the yard even more during construction. Plumbing can always be added later, but I’m skeptical we’ll ever do it. The argument for plumbing is that the building could truly serve in a pinch as a guest room. The arguments against are that I can wash my brushes in the laundry room or with a garden hose and use a bathroom in the house.

Step Four – Finding a Builder

Any attempt by me to construct a building would result in an ugly, crooked, and leaky eyesore most likely abandoned prior to completion. So we talked to contractors, allowed ourselves sufficient time to recover from sticker shock, and hired one. One of my Wednesday Night Painting Peeps is a structural engineer, and when I asked her if she knew any good builders she said unequivocally that if she was having work done at her house Cliff Smith is the only builder in Richmond she would use. He turned out to be the one who got the job, and he did magnificent work. In addition to the quality, he provided two customer services I have never before experienced in the construction trade. One: he provided accurate schedule estimates. If he said 20 days it happened in 20 days. If he said the electrician would come a week from tomorrow you could count on it. Two: he remembered everything you said to him. So if you said on day 4 you'd like the Whatzit Doodad to be placed on the left side instead of the right, he wouldn’t write it down; he’d just do it correctly 17 days later. Fantastic job, Cliff. A million and one thanks for the recommendation, Donna.

The building is a rectangle with a pitched roof. There are clerestory windows for light, along with some regular slide up and down windows and a picture window at one end. The picture window overlooks nothing but trees, which is sweet. (In that last sentence, draw out the word sweet about three seconds, like this:  “Sah-weeeeeeet!” Maybe even in falsetto).

Step Five – Craigslist and, When All Else Failed, Stores

An art studio needs work surfaces. I paint in both watercolor and oils, so I decided that for starters I would need to outfit the space with a drafting table, a flat file storage unit, a good heavy solid easel, and a television set. I used Craigslist to find a heavy duty albeit somewhat beat up drafting table and a 5 drawer flat file storage cabinet large enough to hold full sheets of watercolor paper. Driving around Virginia going to get these things allowed me to once again justify my purchase of a 20 year old pickup truck a couple of years ago. I missed out on two or three apparently nice easels, after which an easel drought fell upon Richmond Craigslist. No worries, I leapt to the Bat-Internet to research new ones and ordered the most highly recommended one online. Why a TV? Because I use a lot of photographic references when I paint, and I plan to use technology to allow me to zoom into details on a big screen rather than trying to do the same from my phone or tablet or laptop.

One other feature I splurged on is a gallery hanging system, allowing use of picture molding with movable wires and adjustable hooks to hang and regularly rearrange finished artwork any which way without putting a bunch of nail holes in the walls. Again, sah-weeeeet!

There is other stuff that will migrate out there; bookshelves and whatnot. We’ll pick up a loveseat or a couple of chairs somewhere so Crystal will have a place to chill. Maybe then see if some exercise equipment can be squeezed in too. Nothing like getting your cardio in with the smell of fresh oil paint and linseed oil wafting about.

About the drafting table. It probably dates to the Second World War, and is a little dinged up. While it is extremely solid, there is a space where a drawer that once existed has gone bye-bye. Crystal advocates that the table be cleaned up, fixed, and painted. To which I have ungraciously responded “Bah!” This, however, points to another critical issue, which is that the building might be too nice to use as an art studio. I don’t fling it around like Jackson Pollack, but paint happens. No matter how hard I try, it ends up where it should not: on the floor, on the easel, possibly on the walls. I’m 49% tempted to go in there before the furniture is even set up and flick a bunch of paint all over everything just to get it over with. The reason I won’t is because I don’t want Crystal to kill me. And yes, I realize that there is not much logic to avoiding nail holes while simultaneously being almost cheerfully resigned to the inevitability of paint drips. My excuse is artists are supposed to be eccentric.

What’s Next

This is all not simply a matter of giving myself a new playground. I have every reason to believe that my own studio space will allow me to improve as a painter. Here’s why I think so:

Ever since I took it up I have painted only one night a week, usually for only about 2 hours. As a result, I have developed the habit of working fast, probably way too fast. Every painting I work on is done essentially in a pseudo en plein air manner, where by necessity one works in hyperdrive because the light won’t last. The positive is that this can lead to energy and excitement in the finished product. However, it also results in repetitiveness of style and effect. I believe having my own studio will encourage me to slow down, breathe, look at what I want to do and better plan how to do it, and most importantly set aside what needs to dry before undertaking the next step. Having 24/7 access instead of 2 hours per week will hopefully make all the difference in the world.

I’m not fooling myself, or at least hope I’m not. It won’t surprise me if the dreamed for transition in work habits takes a lot longer than I envision, or doesn’t happen at all. I might get worse before I improve. Who knows? It’s all part of the adventure. I tell people that painting is what I do to stay cheerful, and the day job pays for the groceries. I know I will stay cheerful.

Of equal importance will be gaining control over the rest of my life on Wednesday nights. I have been militant in protecting my painting time, to the point that nothing short of a life threatening event can make me give up a Wednesday night to do anything else. I will of course continue with the WNPG, because second opinions are invaluable. I just won’t refuse to consider other activities on Wednesday nights when it would be healthier to do so, even if it’s (gasp!) staying home.

Thank you dear reader for letting me take up so much of your time with what I freely acknowledge to be a bunch of self-congratulation and celebratory hoo haw. But I am looking forward to getting to work out there.

It occurred to me just a couple of days ago that many of the landscapes I paint have rocks in them. I studied geology in college, and while most of the mineralogy and whatnot has evaporated from my gray cells, my appreciation for what is called "structural" geology has stayed firm. Structural geology is pretty much the study of the way the rocks and sediments under our feet dictate the "look" of the landscape, and why. So you see lots of paintings of waterfalls and such. This painting - depicting the nearly vertical rock walls and debris avalanches that surround Moraine Lake outside of Lake Louise - is an example. So I've added a collection to my website called "I Was a Geology Major" to park the paintings that fall into this zone. Check it out sometime.