Studio Notes · Nov 2024
ON MY MIND
The Dream.
I recently recalled a text I wrote several years ago in which I was reflecting on my particular “career” path:
“About 10 years ago, I visited a plaster workshop in Istanbul with colleagues and students at Kadir Has University. (Merhaba sevgili dostlar!) It was a dream-like day of walking through countless molds of motifs, figures, and generations of heritage. We had a long chat and tea with the owner, Kemal Usta, and I left feeling inspired beyond words.
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I spent several years afterward trying to develop an architectural research project about the workshop and its contents. That mental exercise didn't pan out, so I filed away the photos and the powerful experience of being in that space.
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I realized only a few years ago that I mistook my lasting sense of connection to the workshop as a potential academic pursuit. In fact, I longed not to examine/analyze the workshop but to be in it. I wished I could spend my days there, handle the molds, learn the craft, and care for the place. And maybe even have some quiet time along side Kemal Usta.”
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Here I am now, writing these words in my own studio space. Today, the plaster workshop in Istanbul seems to be permanently closed. I am far from my home of origin, but I am trying to create a version of that life I imagined here in my current home. And the plaster shop continues to hold a significant position in my mind, at the intersection of centuries-old heritage and a point of inflection in my life. How is it that some places can embody both longing and hope in our memory?
WITH MY HANDS
The Mundane.
One of my aspirations for the open studio event was to finish setting up my new space. I am thinking about the plaster workshop in Istanbul because it was an operation passed down between three generations. That kind of “inheritance” makes me very aware of what, in contrast, starting with a clean slate entails - the freedom it gives and the energy it takes.
So in the spirit of acknowledging the labor that has gone into this undertaking, I hereby honor the mundane, the miscellaneous, and the minutia that made it a reality:
First things first, a kettle.
Vacuuming and cleaning. Before we moved in, busy woodworkers occupied the space, and despite their best efforts to leave us a clean space, you can imagine the layers of sawdust all around. Kudos to Riley for her cleaning acumen - even the ducts were shiny!
Painting. Thanks to Riley’s friends who so generously devoted their time to paint the walls and even had fun doing it! Maybe someday we’ll tackle the ceiling, too…
Storage shelving, custom display shelving, pegboard wall. Everything has a place to go. A little bit of organizing, a lot of self-soothing.
Drawing table, wedging table, and a “nice” work table. I had a lot of choices to make and lots of questions. My dear expert friends (Thanks, Lisa and Mike!) and generous strangers on the internet had answers.
Slab roller. This beauty had a 16-week lead time! And when it finally arrived, some parts didn’t match in size. Thanks to my young friend Ben for helping with the assembly and keeping me sane through the process.
New racks, boards for drying clay, cutting boards, trays, trays, and more trays. Honoring the magnificent late quilt artist Sarah Bond, here, some of whose studio items now have a new home with me.
Stools, lamps, hooks, containers, towels, gloves, tools. And misc.
And, last but not least, a kiln. THE kiln - yet to be named and, hopefully, forever on good terms with the “kiln gods.” 🔥
FROM THE HEART
The People.
One of the reasons Riley and I get along as studio partners and friends, I think, must have to do with the fact that, apparently, neither of us took any decent photos during the open studio weekend!? (At least, this shot exists, thanks to a good soul.)
Another reason sharing the physical space works for us is precisely because art-making takes up such precious space in our lives. Both of us have other jobs, family responsibilities, and working in bodies that are not always willing to cooperate; we constantly check in with each other about how much studio time will fit in any given week.
And when we do get some time to work (outside of laughing at Riley’s jokes or having a heart-to-heart), we are comically aware of how different our creative processes are: I’m focused on marking a precise grid on a pristine clay surface while Riley is making magic from things literally found on the sidewalk.
Our alliance as studio-mates and co-hosting the open studio weekend made me realize that while focusing so intently on creating a good space to do good work, I wasn’t paying as close attention to something else that’s vital: good people.
So here is a heartfelt thanks to my dear friend, Riley! And thanks to you all who visited us, are reading this, or, in some way, engaging with my work, reminding me of why Riley and I were too immersed in the moment to take photos and why we look so HAPPY in our precious little portrait. We were enjoying the company.
What a gift to have energizing exchanges and lasting connections!
Until next month, hoşçakalın!