Opening Image

It was Wednesday, hands down in a sink of refuse that the thought occurred to me:

It‘s time to open the studio up again.

I know, I know - It’s so far away and the place is likely in total disrepair at this point.

Broken windows. Bird nests in the rafters. Mold in the basement.

And, really, all of the damage and neglect is not on top of a long functioning institution, it’s what’s left of a start up that barely began before it was abandoned. But still my mind goes back the promise of the studio, of what could have been. And I wonder if anything that could have been could still happen.

I put a back pack of supplies together, decide which is my best pair of walking boots and catch a bus to the turnoff south of the highway. It’s a long walk to the studio. I don’t know why I put it in such a remote location. Sticking to my vision I suppose - up where eagles dwell lies the thin air of concentration and clarity. Above and away from the noise and smell of life actually lived.

And maybe that was where things went so wrong. Right at the beginning in the initial design of the place: removing oneself from life to comment on it. Going to an unreachable location to get any work done was bound to be unsustainable.

I’m thinking all of this while I’m still standing at the turn off. It’s a long walk there, so I better get going. Here I go.