Confessions of a Displaced Artist
I’ll be honest. As an introvert, I am more than happy to be stuck at home. But as an art major, I won’t sugarcoat anything—this sucks. When I got the news that I’d have to go home to Doylestown, I packed up all of my art supplies and tools, and I even swiped 20 pounds of clay from the ceramics studio. Now, I’ve had to get creative—more than usual—to adapt to working at home.
This pandemic has put me in a weird spot. I have my clay, but no space to work with it and no wheel to throw on, which means it’s time to hand-build until further notice. I don’t have a home studio, so I can only bring out supplies as I use them to conserve space. Boxes and containers have become my new best friend.
I use the resources I have around my house. I’ve been doing lots of origami to keep my hands busy. I follow @studio.share on Instagram for home studio inspiration.
But this displacement has me strangely unmotivated. I often say that art majors must learn to make themselves at home in their studios, but even though I’m quarantined in the safety of my house, I feel displaced. So, I tell myself over and over again: Make the art anyway. A studio is a place where artists make art. I might not be visiting Murphy Hall every day anymore, but art can happen anywhere.
