When we lived in our first home together, a small apartment, Jon and I were squished. Delightfully squished. Some people said we just had way too much stuff, but we knew that our hobbies were simply the type that require some space.
(And I was also majorly pack-ratting at the time. Every single item that came through the door, even garbage, was a potential art tool.
I was into assemblage, collage, and bookmaking. Since then I’ve given my involvement in those art forms a temporary mental funeral. There’s just no room here; and quite frankly, I have no mental room left either.
Shel Silverstein would draw mountainous piles of ideas, spilling ratty papers out the sides, if he could see how many painting, drawing, sewing, and music projects are on the back burners right now. Of several stoves.
So no assemblage.)
(random picture of our very small kitchen and my very full belly back then)
Anyhoo, we were surrounded in that first home with movies galore, history books, acrylic and oil paints, canvases, notebooks, musical instruments, and the like. And so was each person who ventured within for a squishy meal in our studio/library/dining room over the noisy one-way street.
Here in our “for real” house, we have quite a bit more room. Plus, having fired the pack rat, there is some sort of organizational sense to the place. I think.
Thus, I actually have room, blessedly, wonderfully, to set up a dreamy sewing space in our basement.
Jon practically begged me not to do so in “the dungeon.” I think he felt bad, like I would be suffering down there.
But I’m a little bit like Jo from Little Women. I like a good cobwebbed space, a few exposed beams, a little sawdust on the floor, and room to dream things up. If I get paint on the floor, it’s no big deal. And the washer, dryer, and ironing board, all integral parts of the sewing process, are RIGHT THERE.
Best of all, I can leave sewing and painting projects lying around and no chubby little fingers will get pricked or painted by accident. 🙂
So this is where I work (when I’m not working), where I invest time in future projects, in Christmas gifts, in mending, ironing, extending, and saving wads of cash (I hope) for the good and glory of my family.
(dreaming things up) (I have man hands in this photo)
I’m so thankful to have the space for this now, as I know many women don’t. If that’s you, hang in there. You never know what little nook will turn up, or what idea might pop into your head unannounced – a dream of a dreamy space, perhaps.