Jack, when not under foot, would lay right outside the side door.
Me editing bay was right next to my work bench.
The bench, perpetually a place of work in progress, was always covered in bits of drawings, assemblages and stuff.
I made things there.
I spread out and tested installation arrangements and presentation.
Occasionally, I cleaned it up for parties.
The best was a disco.
Food was in the house and the studio served exclusively as the dance floor.
Work and play mixed fluidly.
There was enough space for more than one of us to work in there at the same time.
Enough space to run movie projections, make transfers or just watch.
At it's peak one summer, the entrance looked like this (decorated extra special for a garden party). With the arbor, working outside was a pleasure - especially doing wet work like hand felt-making or paper-making.
I have made a few portraits over the years, and I consider all of my work to be personal, but here, I made my first openly and decidedly autobiographical body of work, titled, 'make haste slowly'. It dealt with family and nostalgia.
We set up tables with holes in them, lenses taped to foam core and cardboard everywhere, to play with pitch distances.
Eventually we had a video projection running where I wanted it - on the lens of a pair of glasses. (You can see finished images of this piece in the slide show below.)
Slide show of 'make haste slowly' installation.
Now, that particular body of work is packed in boxes in my basement. I still have the editing bay. Jack has been gone awhile. A tiny work bench is at my side. New drawings are tucked around me. More installations in the works. Finally, I feel like I'm owning my new little studio.