My studio is a sacred space (and why we all need one)
When I lived in San Francisco, I had a succession of studios that were as vibrant, diverse, charming and quirky as the City By The Bay. One of these studios had the advantage of being downtown, just off the Powell Street cable car line. But it also came with some gritty urban challenges. Yet wherever they were, these studios were my treasured havens where I created and dreamed and mused.
But when we moved to this California seaside town, I found a new studio and soon understood that it is more than just a haven for my creativity — it is a space of intentional calm, reflection, quietude and grace.
My studio is in a historic church in downtown Carmel-by-the-Sea, which is embraced by a charming garden filled with hydrangeas, agapanthus and lilies. (I know how fortunate I am, trust me!)
When I step into my space each morning, I open the blinds, turn on the kettle and am instantly soothed. There is a hush that is palpable — and this stillness brings me immediately into a place of inner calm. My busy mind (those endless to-dos of modern life) slows down, and I pour a cup of green tea, say a silent prayer of gratitude and turn to the easel.
I love the word quietude. It describes a state of being that is calm and serene. My creativity flows best from this state. In quietude, I can reflect, dream, muse and expand.
Sacred spaces all have quietude in common. A cathedral, a forest, a garden, a house while everyone sleeps. They all invite us to enter stillness and be transformed.
I hope that you have a sacred space that you can visit often. And if you would like to visit my studio and talk about art and the power of stillness, send me an email. There is always something blooming on the easel and a kettle boiling for tea.
Reverie, Oil on Linen, 30 x 40 in | 76 x 102 cm
Mornings at La Mirada, Oil on Linen, 47 x 54.5 in | 119 x 138 cm