Studio Blues

This is a pun, because I am blue over the fact that another week has gone by, and I'm still not in my studio. Yes, the management company is prorating my rent for June, but I had hoped I could be in by now. . .maybe even have some furniture in place by now. But no. Because the walls still have to be repaired, my track lights have to go in, and none of it will be done before Monday. At the earliest.

Plus, the floors. Have we already talked about the floors? Why yes, it appears that we have! So we are all aware of how heinous the floors currently are? Yup--carpet removed, mastic left behind, and some chipped and possibly asbestos tile underneath! Whoo hoo!

I got the bid for installing the vinyl tile for my studio. And. . .well. . .since I don't have a money tree in my back yard, I'm not having the commercial guys do it. Instead, I'm going to do it myself. Because, really, how difficult can it be? And if the landlord isn't going to pay to have it installed, then the landlord is going to have to live with the quality of work I can do, and the quality I find acceptable. And what's the point of being an artist of any caliber if I'm not willing to try something I've never done before? Where I only have to please myself?

So I've picked out a marine blue floor, (get it? "Studio blues?") which goes beautifully with the purple wall color I've chosen as well. If things work out better than they have so far, I should have keys to the studio on Monday afternoon. Work will then commence and we'll see how it goes.

Bad News, Good News and Studio Delays

Well, it's June now, and I don't have keys to my studio. Because my studio isn't ready. Because--like so damn much of my life--complications have arisen.

This time, it's the floor and the lights. I bought lights and delivered them last week. On Friday, I found out that the track lights won't work, because it's a recessed system that lies flat against the ceiling, and since the ceiling is actually concrete--the lights can't be recessed. Sure, we can jury-rig something, but that's just not a good idea. Especially since I spoke to the electrician, and he seems to be without any ideas as to how to jury-rig it. Relying on me for electrical installation advice? Not good.

So, I bought a different set of lights, and will have to return the originals. Fortunately they are all unopened. Unfortunately, I don't know where the receipt is. Let's all cross our fingers and hope that Home Depot can look it up electronically.

More bad news--when I delivered the lights, I got a chance to look at the carpeting that was on the floor. OMG was it foul! Stains, wear patterns, large blotches of what looked like oil tars, droppings of plaster and white paint all over. It clearly had to go. And, fortunately, there are plenty of cool things one can do to a concrete floor. Acid etching, paint, overlay--lots of options.

Except the floor is not concrete under the carpet. It's tile. Vinyl tile, or even maybe asbestos. Linoleum-type tile is what we're talking here. Ugly and cracked linoleum-type tile all covered with sepia mastic from the carpeting, and no way to remove it.

But! There is an option! The flooring contractors that the building uses use Armstrong EXCELON (TM) vinyl tiles, and they come in a profusion of colors! Including purple! Which is probably what I was going to paint the concrete floor that didn't exist anyway!

So, back to the drawing board--I need to decide colors for floor and walls and then order it and either install it myself or have it installed. But at least there is color!

Studio 781

The previous post notwithstanding, there is something exciting going on in my life: I am getting a studio! I am renting space in a historic building in the arts quarter of town, to do my writing and my art. And I am terribly excited.

Now, I do truly love my little house--it really is incredibly charming, in a lovely and vibrant neighborhood, and it has been remarkably comfortable for our growing family, given its size. We bought it for just the two of us--back when we were never going to have kids. Then the kids showed up, and the house has accommodated us all.

But it is truly a little house. It is small enough that we have to live in all its spaces everyday. There is no formal dining room--we eat all our meals in the dining room. We have a parlor that maybe doesn't get used every day, but does get used frequently. We have a lovely kitchen with a convenient peninsula and a computer desk--which get used by just about each one of us every single day.

There is no place that we can start a project and then leave it out to finish later. There is no place where I can spread out and organize my thoughts--because we need that space for other things--cooking, homework, eating, etc. There is no place that can just be my own space--not in this cozy little bijoux of a house.

We had a new garage built last summer, and had a storage loft put in above the parking area. I considered whether that could be a decent studio, so I asked the builder. Sticker shock!! $50-60 thousand dollars to make that space habitable. Totally ridiculous. So, what about the garden shed? Well--no electricity, no way to close the door on the inside, plus the kidlets want it for a kid retreat. The basement? Um. . .no. I'm already clinically depressed--that would just be a fatal mistake.

So, having screwed my courage to the sticking point, I asked for what I needed, and Mr. Sweetie (who is very appropriately named) sent me off to go do it. I found a space in a building that was probably the office building for a railroad--the building itself was erected in 1917, and from my window you can see the neo-Classical white marble of the old Depot. The building is across the street from the Farmers' Market, and sits amid a number of renovated warehouse building of the same vintage. Many of them are now being turned into artist lofts, condos, and office space, as well as a Zen Center, coffee shop/wine bar, non-profit space. . .very cool and off-beat stuff going on in the area.

I took my dad down to see the space to give me some advice on lighting. The studio is on the 7th floor (of 8) and had a terrible acoustic tile dropped ceiling in it. The ceiling was obviously just stuck in at some point, as it cut off the tops of the windows. So, the building maintenance workers took down the (stained and crumbling) ceiling and the (boring and eye-sucking) fluorescent lights, and we went to see what was underneath it.

Oh man--you really have to wonder at people--there was an additional 3 feet of ceiling height, with a vintage picture rail hidden under there. The windows are huge--4 feet wide and about 8 feet high--yes, with about 3 feet hidden by that damn ceiling.

I am terribly terribly excited about getting into this space now! My lighting expert is recommending two electrical circuits--one for the writing area and the supply space, and the second for the art and craft table. We measured the space, and now I get to lay it all out on a grid and play around with what size desk and where to put it.

June 1 is my official occupancy date, and it can hardly come fast enough for me.