I can't say this enough, I LOVE my studio. It's a dream come true in so many ways. I feel at home in these 600 square feet. The white walls, the bright light, the tree top view, the creaking pipes, the dusty smell, the warm air are blessings each day. Never has a physical space of my own been more inspiring, more conducive for creativity. The head space helps, but I find myself being pulled here from the moment I wake up. There are few places I'd rather be. For the first time in my entire life, even during graduate school, I can tangibly feel what it would be like to paint for a living. It always felt so far away, but it is here, I am in it. Not only can I feel it, but I finally know I can do it, I could sustain it and I want to. It consumes my every thought, I want to be creating, I want to be painting. If I'm not painting I want to be reading and generating ideas. I have found myself in the cycle of passion, to be honest I worried my time had passed me.I am happily wrong. I feel so blessed, so grateful, so overwhelmed with bittersweet emotions. I see the manifestation of intentions and dreams before me. How could I have known that it would have taken this path? How beautiful, how heartbreaking. This is my way of accepting what is. Still, I find myself wishing I could share....so I write this. Maybe it will be read. I can not run from myself, in fact this could not have happened with out diving into solitude. I used to fear the sense of separation that could come from locking myself in a studio, but I feel more connected and more alive than I do in a coffee shop full of people. I now have the "art residency" I was looking for and the "other reasons" for uprooting. It never ceases to amaze me how life unfolds.