#22: The Space Around the Painting: Why the Studio Matters

When people see a finished painting, they rarely see the space it was made in. The texture of the room. The morning light. The way the air felt, or how the brushes sat in the jar just slightly off-centre. But for me, the studio is part of the work. It's the quiet co-author behind every mark I make.

More Than Four Walls

My studio isn’t grand or pristine. It’s a working space — scattered, stained, and full of small, personal anchors. There’s music playing more often than not. Usually something unpredictable. Sometimes something nostalgic. A collection of things on the periphery that don’t get painted, but shape how I paint.

The walls have started to hold memory. Not just of finished work, but of doubt, breakthroughs, and the in-between moments when the painting didn’t know what it wanted to be yet. It’s all in there.

Mood Shapes Movement

I notice it most on the quiet days. When the studio feels still, I paint differently. My movements slow down. I listen more. There’s space to be hesitant. On more chaotic days — when I’ve got too many tabs open in my brain — the brushstrokes come quicker. Not always better, but braver.

The space reflects me, and I reflect it back. It becomes a mirror for whatever's going on underneath the surface.

Small Details, Big Shifts

Sometimes it’s the smallest things that change everything. Rearranging my tools. Putting up a new postcard. Leaving a painting facing the wall for a day or two so I can return to it with fresh eyes. The studio isn’t static — it breathes with me. And as my work has grown — in size, in colour, in confidence — the space has grown too, or at least learned to hold it.

The Invisible Layer

You can’t see the studio in the final painting. Not directly. But I think its presence is always there. In the looseness of a line. In the patience of a layered glaze. In the decision to leave something unfinished, because the room told me it was time to stop.

The studio doesn’t just contain the work. It shapes it. It holds the mood, the momentum, and the mess. And I’ve learned to honour that — to treat the space around the canvas as part of the process, not just the backdrop.

Because in the end, where we make the work is part of the work.

.M.

Be real.

Make art.

If you’d like to learn more about my creative process or see my latest work, feel free to reach out or check out the rest of my website.