My studio is always my real home
I am a human doing, not a human being. I’ve meditated since I was fourteen, so I am very much aware of what this means and it delights me. The studio is more home than anywhere has ever been.
Every kid makes art on the floor. I was no different but I was also a climber. In the older houses of South Africa, almost all of them have large, built in wardrobes that go up to the ceiling. High, old-fashioned ceilings too, not the low ones of modern builds. I remember being about ten and climbing easily into the tops of those wardrobes, where none of the adults could reach stored boxes without a ladder. I had diaries and feathers, bits of dress-up fabric and stolen utility blades. Whenever we moved house, I’d lay claim to the top of a wardrobe, or the boxed-in landing of a long-gone staircase. And I spent hours in there, making whatever; stories, messes or paintings. Nobody could get up there so I never had to “clean up” and I could have ongoing projects that lasted until we moved again.
“Sketched furniture” turned out to be a functional and surprisingly quick way to learn woodworking
Studios have a few things in common, wherever they grow: I generally sleep in them. Or sleep near them. Or have a cozy corner where I theoretically could sleep, if I had to find myself working all night. I also tend to sprout “sketched furniture” which is what happens when I have tools and scraps and not enough patience to search for conventional furniture that will do that one, specific thing I need. Whatever that is.
One other thing that I have learned to cultivate in my studio: For many years I dismissed inspiration as a factor, believing a workman’s ethic would serve better. I only noticed how fragile that ethic can be when I burnt out during South Africa’s extreme lockdown and even with all the materials and space, I couldn’t paint at all. Inspiration is now a treasured visitor.
2021, in the Woodstock studio I shared with the inimitable Patrick Bongoy
I prefer to work in an aesthetic, efficient environment with multiple projects running simultaneously, each in its own dedicated space. The balance between beauty and function keeps me grounded. At any point the studio might hold a series of portraits in progress, a sculpture, a mould being made, watercolours and etchings being mounted, power tools, and an assortment of dangerous-looking chemicals, all of which serve their purpose before returning to what I can only describe as a very dense Tetris game.
My happy place is both sublime and ridiculous
I can make this oddly sacred space wherever I am, as long as I have something to make, something to make it with, and myself, whole and present.
The current studio is in Montevideo, Uruguay where I am setting up a new practice after relocating from South Africa in 2025.
