keseypollock

On the day we were supposed to clean out the studio, we got distracted and took a bunch of pictures. It is weird to think that the walls are all WHITE now and that everything is CLEAN. Sterile feels so lonely sometimes, other times so fresh. Erin worked in this studio for 4 years before I came up to Alaska to work on our show last year. Over our year in there, the mess multiplied (and multiplied and multiplied…). I can’t really admit to it as our fault though. Things and stuffs had a funny way of breeding over night in that place. Paintbrushes nookied up with casting supplies, creating and procreating all sorts of little hybrid garbage babies. Sounds unlikely, I know.

A couple months ago we moved to a quonset hut in Ship Creek. It is an amazing space, with lots of room to rattle around. The messes are grander in scope and scale. They are the kind that require a Tyvek suit and big biceps. (I am working on that part.) It is all sososososo fun and good and right. But I just found these pictures on my old camera and my heart couldn’t help but pitter-patter. I know it must look like a shit-hole, but I loved that little studio in Spenard. So long dear friend. s.