Why Sweeping the Studio Floor is as Important as Making Art.
fig. 1 A pestle and mortar from the ceramics studio of London Metropolitan University containing Egyption Blue crackle glaze.
It’s of no surprise to imagine the artists’ studio as a whirlwind and flurry of activity. The inner sanctity of the place where creative
Fig. 2, Sabine Weiss, Alberto Giacometti in his studio, 1954, Subsequent silver print mounted on paper, Photography, 29.7 x 19.6 cm
I’m guessing you now are maybe envisaging something close to a bare yet overly cluttered ‘space’, or a large room with draped windows, filled with canvasses leaning against bare walls, old furniture with form and springs popping through aged holes in the cover fabric. I immediately find myself remembering photographs I once saw at an exhibition of Alberto Giacometti’s works, which included an intimate curation of photos showing his studio life (fig. 2). The stark and simple setting still resides within regarding its impact on me as an admirer of Giacometti’s oeuvre.
Yes, me too, and as I write, I can undoubtedly recall the first time I visited the Hugh Lane Gallery in Dublin and took in the sight of - what was a massive endeavour, the relocation of Francis Bacons actual studio at 7 Reece Mews, London, [2] that was his last working space in London before his death in April 1992 (fig. 2 and 3). A cluttered, chaotic, and cramped space that came with all the accoutrements of a room in a house that a world-renowned painter would have in a studio. Everything from passively banal but still noticeable pull cord switches that hung from the ceiling to the seemingly toxic tins of corroded thinners and old paint pots, surrounded by relics of brushes that were more for comfort than utility, seemed to exist in this inner space of creativity.
Fig. 2. Interior of Francis Bacon’s studio at 7 Reece Mews, London.
Fig. 3. Entrance to Bacon’s studio from the seemingly tidy living space.
Yet, what resonated with me then when in the presence of Bacon’s studio, or with pictures of Giacometti’s studio, and now in the ceramics studio that has become my place of chaos, is a paradox. For as much chaos as the use of the materials conjures, there must be a counter ‘order’ in place to allow the flow of thoughts to become demystified during my making process. Part of this method is the tidying of the studio. It is as important as sitting on the potting wheel and throwing or standing in front of the coal face of the canvas.
There is something about the washing of tools, the arranging of the studio ephemera - glazes, tubes of things, paper coffee cups to the more substantial items like mouldings, cases, and furniture. The thinking time is of a different sort to the making time.
Thinking is how the work gets done, but thinking must be thought somewhere, right? Something about how the broom sweeping across the studio floor clears the studio space and the mind. The movement acts as a distraction to that which would otherwise interject ones being in a way that adds extra inventory to the already full shelves of ideas, ambitions, and conceptions. Clutter doesn’t just exist as things in a space, objects on a worktop, bits around the place; clutter can also be the deadlines, the yet to be, and the items in the way that stop the mind from seeing that the path ahead is clear to go. It’s as if clearing the course is critical to allowing the mind to wander. I know what it requires of me to produce; I’m the one there in the stasis that precedes the launch into making.
So, watching as the cloth wipes away the dried glaze or the oil paint medium is just making the canvas blank. Putting away the biscuits means it’s time to get to work.
[1] Mutual Art, Alberto Giacometti in his Studio, https://www.mutualart.com/Artwork/Alberto-Giacometti-in-his-studio/D257D40C0D4C8FC9 [accessed 08/10/2021]
[2] Hugh Lane Gallery, History of Studio Relocation, <https://www.hughlane.ie/history-of-studio-relocation> [accessed 08/10/2021]