I am finally getting ready to move forward on the upgrade to our barn that houses my studio. Since before moving, we've discussed getting the barn up to snuff for working year round comfortably. This means mostly adding insulation and walls. Right now, the barn is all raw wood studs and board which is lovely to look at, but not so lovely climate wise. It turns into an oven on hot days and though we have yet to spend a winter in the new house, I'm sure at that time it will be an ice box.
So after many impasses - emotional, financial and otherwise - we're finally going to finish the barn! For the past month, it's felt a little bit like a teenager's bedroom or secret club house...exciting and fun but a big mess and full of bugs and weird clutter. I still had yet to unpack boxes from our move. Some were half open, contents strewn about gingerly from the most recent dig-about for specific items. The look and feel of this transitional, disorganize state was uncomfortable and disheartening. What is all this stuff? Unpacking, both literal and metaphorical, is hard. I'd been toying with the idea of one of these tool chests as a way to organize supplies. The barn is quite big, with various 'workstations' in different locations. I wanted all my tools and supplies to be mobile, so I could bring them where they were needed. The appeal of this guy was durability AND looks. Most organizational furniture is hideous or without personality. The red enamel tool chest is hardy, attractive, and looks at home in a barn.
I'd bought this 'parts organizer' about a month ago hoping to sort all of my buttons by color and size. There are two kinds of people in this world, those who would love this project and those who think of a project like this and cringe. I am the former. I love a simple, mindless task that feels like an incredible accomplishment.
The first image is an antennae from the abandoned airfield near my house. This is fast becoming one of my favorite places in the neighborhood. There are all sorts of weird things out there, my favorite of which is a corrugated steel shape. It looks like it would be at home in a sculpture park or in the museum of modern art near a Richard Serra or Donald Judd. I go running through this field regularly and I always discover something new.
After living in the city for almost 10 years it's strange to re-acclimate to environmental inspiration. I feel like it's good for creativity