Studio Notes - Off To Greener Pastures
I didn’t paint at all this week.
It’s moving time and I’m off to greener pastures. The dust has yet to settle from my art show and I find myself feverishly throwing my entire life into Ikea and Trader Joe tote bags.
I have so many pens. Yes, pens. When I sit down to try to condense my pen collection, I make a case for each one’s spot in my life and fail miserably. I suppose we all have our vices.
Moving is always a daunting task. While talking with a good friend about it recently, he compared it to “rolling the dice”. And it made me wonder am I going to be screaming “Yahtzee!” on move in day?
As a particular being, I tend to hyper fixate on little things.
Looking around my new bathroom, I notice that I now have two sinks instead of one. My thoughts start racing. Why are there two? When I only need one? How frivolous, what am I going to do with two sinks? Yes, I now have a beautiful art studio and 200 extra square feet but… two sinks?
During packing I most certainly played favorites. Two totes, my books and my art supplies.
I enjoy collecting old books from the 1900s or earlier that have inscriptions. I find poetry in running my fingers over the faded pen marks. Knowing that I will never know the story behind this relationship, but by being the owner of the book, I’m a part of it. Carrying it on with me. Accepting whatever history comes with it, rolling the dice on that too.
For the first time in my life, I hired movers. They were set to arrive anytime between 11-4 pm on Saturday. I woke up at 5 am tired eyed and bushy tailed, ready to tackle the move.
I waited as patiently as I could, making several vlog videos to kill time. I ended up going to acquire my new apartment keys before they closed, and 15 minutes before 4 pm, I received a call from the moving company.
“Ma’am, I’m really sorry but we aren’t going to make it today.”
The earliest they could get me in was Monday afternoon. Too stunned to project my dysregulation, the southern gentleman thanked me for my understanding.
I called friends, sent some texts, while sitting at a crossroads. Am I going to try to piece meal this move and rally the troops or wait until Monday? As a woman of historical little patience, waiting didn’t sound fun. Then again, none of this was particularly fun.
I attempted to reframe. What does this opportunity have for me? What can I learn? What am I being called to work on?
Flexibility. Patience. And receiving. I have been able to accept support, comfort and comradery among the chaos. Leaning into the connection I have in my life.
Because this is my first move, with my entire family over 2,000 miles away, I’ve had to get crafty. Creative. Flexible that things might not look how I imagined them to, and should they?
I’m up an art studio and a sink. Inspiration has struck and the lore of this weekend is sure to bleed into my craft.
The relationship I share with art is not one of obligation, it’s one of expression and collaboration. As the cliché goes “distance makes the heart grow fonder”. While taking space from my canvas and brushes, I find myself reaching for them in the middle of the night. Looking up at the full moon, wondering, maybe they miss me too.
Onward and upward,
Sierra Koch
5-31-26