A Clean Studio

I started the week by cleaning my studio. An act I do every few months to clear my head as much as a pathway from painting wall to writing desk. I have read books on writing where the writer expounds on the ceremony of clearing a space for your writing and lighting a candle or placing a vase of flowers in front of you to prepare for the daily meeting of pen to paper. I do not clean my studio daily, though I do arrive there everyday. Piles of poetry books, books on writing, thesauri, dictionaries, memoirs, and artist monographs lean in piles against my drawing table, my palette, my writing chair, the bookshelf. Different notebooks for different stories lie buried beneath catalogues and letters of requests. Like peeling an onion, I lift each layer off to reveal buried inspirations. I sort notebooks and read the writing inside, reigniting the story. I replace books on shelves taking note of where to find them when I need to pull them out again, knowing it would be soon. I file the little hand-written notes in a file labelled "Story Ideas", reading them as they fall inside, once again stirring the story-pot. The unnecessary papers go into recycling and the more official sheets are placed in a pile to go upstairs to the "business files". Photos, postcards, and saved calendar images are piled with the other saved images for inspiration. My studio is clean and sorted. My brain is clean and sorted. I approach my painting wall newly invigorated while behind me lies inspiration waiting for a future time. Being on deadline for the illustrations of a picture book means sorting and filing inspiration for new stories into easy-to-find places; wishing I could go there now.