Half the time my studio looks like a science lab. I like to call it my work in progress. Located in a quiet neighborhood in Brooklyn surrounded by trees, it’s is not far from the Brooklyn Museum. This area has been home to my work for about ten years. Its constant metamorphosis from one project to another keeps the space alive. As an interdisciplinary artist, I find this the perfect environment for my creative process. My background in science has permanently influenced my workspace. That’s a carryover from my childhood.
My present work area is luminous, and this allows me to thrive. It is made possible by windows with a north-northwest exposure, which casts a particular play of light, enabling me to explore form and color through various aspects of space in both two and three-dimensional pieces.
My work schedule swings on a pendulum, being either completely diurnal or nocturnal. The light required for each project dictates my lifestyle to a great degree. I have been known to spend months working in a nocturnal mode on a deadline, which these days I try to avoid.
The studio, of course, could be larger, but I would probably outgrow that in no time and soon require more. Space is always in question: the more you create, the more you need. I often work in specialized workspaces when I find the need for larger equipment. In the past, I’ve made sure the large pieces could be placed before making them since I would lose the entire space on one project alone. I think that is a rational decision.
Working in New York has forced me to redefine my needs and become creative with how I approach my workspace. Thinking outside the box helps.
When not traveling, working on site-specific public or corporate commissions, or showing, I am researching in the studio, or recovering from that constant lack of sleep that accompanies the classic way of life of the artist today.
When a space is not just a space—the studio by day. Photo: A.J. Saunders, April 2013