After two years without a studio, the muse is ready to rock & roll this summer!

And it’s about time. The studio is finally under construction!!!

If all goes according to plan (are you listening Universe?) I’ll be in it sometime this summer. Working. Painting. Teaching.

The Question Everyone Keeps Asking

Naturally, this has kicked off a fresh round of conversations. Some of these conversations are with other artists. Some are with the voice in my head—also known as Lucille da Muse. And some are unfiltered between me, myself & I.

They all circle around the same question:

What am I going to paint? How will this long break show up in the new work?

It’s been almost two years since I last had a studio. Two years since I could spread out, make a mess, and paint like a woman possessed. Two years since the painter part of me had a room to stretch her creative legs.

Considering everything that’s happened in that time, it’s a fair question.

What Am I Going to Paint?

The simple answer is: I. Don’t. Know.

Well, there are a few safe bets. Whatever comes out of that studio will almost certainly be non-representational. There will be marks. There will be scribbles. Definitely layers. Maybe even some charcoal. And clay sculpture. Beyond that? The field is wide open–like the landscape I’m living in now.

Water. Sky. Mountains. The ever changing weather. My total appreciation and gratitude for this wild & glorious place will seep in somehow. How could it not?

Showing Up For The Work

But I won’t know until I get in there and start doing the work.

It will be a holy time. As in: holy moly, look at that. And also: holy crap, way to go. And probably, at least once a week: holy shit…what was I thinking!

Because that’s the way I paint. Clarity doesn’t come before the making. Clarity comes towards the end, after the dreaded existential throw-the-canvas-out-with-the-paint-water middle.

So I’ll be paying attention.

Watching where the muse nudges.

Do I keep pushing the color fields? Do I circle back to earlier ideas that still have some juice left in them? Do I jump off the cliff into completely new territory and scare myself shitless more than a little?

All possible.

Because one thing I do know is this: I’ve never been interested in standing still as an artist.

I’ve always pushed the creative envelope. I encouraged my students to do the same. Art, at its best, is a process of evolving—stretching past what you already know how to do and heading toward something you can’t quite see yet.

Which is equal parts thrilling … and terrifying.

I don’t actually need to know what I’m going to paint yet.

That’s not how this works.

The Real Job

The job right now isn’t to have answers. The job will be to show up. To notice what pulls at my attention. To follow the small nudges. To let the work reveal itself one mark, one layer at a time.

That’s how you court the muse.

Not by waiting for a lightning bolt of inspiration, but by paying attention long enough that she starts to recognize you.

So when that studio door finally opens this summer, I’ll walk in with a willingness to see what happens.

Lucille, of course, will be there.

She doesn’t need a body to get her point across. My Muse has slapped me upside the head more than once, saying something like: “Well? You just gonna stand there thinking about it…or are we gonna make something?”

I can’t wait to find out.

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Your Turn

Creative Prompt: Notice What Pulls You

Today, notice what pulls your attention. Not what you think you should be looking at—what actually catches your eye.

A color combination. A strange shadow. A messy pile of objects on the table.

Then respond somehow. Sketch it. Describe it. Photograph it. Scribble about it.

The goal isn’t to make something brilliant.

The goal is to start before you know what you’re making.

That’s where the interesting stuff lives.

Til next week–