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Amy Robson, Wiltshire, England
My studio enables my short attention span and prolific painting process. I can flit from canvas to canvas and work on multiple pieces at the same time. In the lower right corner are completed stacks of small wooden panels, which allow me to work on 30+ oil paintings at once. The studio is a converted horse stable in Wiltshire, England that I insulated and painted, and it looks out onto a pond.
On the right of the image is the “clean” area and brain-dump wall, which contains sketched images from historical events, music, pop culture, dreams, and personal photos. The large unstretched canvasses are works-in-progress, as I was completing my MFA at Chelsea College in London, and they contain references to giant tadpole-eating babies, OJ Simpson, Heinz pickles, Pittsburgh, PA, and the music of Beastie Boys. The old Ikea sisal rugs keep the studio warmer in winter and have featured as textural motifs in my work. I spend very long days in the studio fueled by multiple cups of chai tea and music from KCRW Los Angeles and BBC Radio 6.
Timothy Rudd, Carrollton, TX
I’ve worked out of my Carrollton, Texas home studio since 1998. It’s 15 by 15 feet with high ceilings and an abundance of north light. There’s lots of space for my easel, a drawing table, storage for art materials, and paintings that hang to dry along the walls. I stretch/size/prime canvases on a large workbench in my garage during the summer months. There’s also plenty of room for extra stretcher bars on shelves that I installed.
I’m inspired by nature’s beauty just outside. Our cats stop by regularly to watch squirrels or nap while I work, because they’re cats and that’s what they do. They provide a nice incentive for me to keep things a bit tidier than Francis Bacon’s studio, too.
Albertine Eylenbosch, Mechelen, Belgium
My painting studio on the first floor, in the foreground, is a work in progress. The source of inspiration is the build-up of a city. I work with water-based acrylic paint, as it is more environmentally friendly. The studio is near the bedroom. On the table is an iPad drawing, which served as a study for a landscape. On the wall is a painting based on the scenery along the Isar in Munich. There is the possibility to listen to music. It is an important source of inspiration with its surprising elements of composition.
Andrew Cooks, Stanfordville, NY
My studio — which I designed and built with structurally insulated panels in 2015 — is a loft set in the woods: a live/work space 90 miles north of New York City. I work on two opposing walls making paintings on paper, pinned directly onto the walls. I’m surrounded by books, magazines, and collections of objects, postcards, and old frames which feed my accumulative, collage-like way of painting.
In the foreground is the small desk on which I make miniatures, and at the bottom right, a corner of the kitchen counter, which is made from a recycled bowling alley floor. Living in my studio means I can work to my natural rhythms in fits and bursts throughout the day or night, and between outdoor tasks, lots of reading and looking out at the light and weather, and at time passing.
Samantha Lê, San Luis Obispo, CA
My studio is in the room that Sir Blake, my old dog, had chosen for me. He decided that this was to be his room from the first day we moved in, and by default, it was also my room because Blake and I spent almost all of our waking moments together.
From my table, I can see the sunrise climb over the top of the arthritic oak tree. And right outside the window, there is a wild bush that has become home to an ever-pulsing beehive. All day, the symphony of buzzing bees provide the soundtrack to my daily work.
This is where I sketch, paint, and design handmade products for my shop. My toolbox is an old carpenter’s box rescued from the discounted pile at a local thrift store. On the walls are whimsical prints and photographs of places I’ve visited. Bookcases line the bottom half of two walls. I love words: from great works of poetry and fiction to philosophical journals, strange and surprising ideas are always within reach. The two books that currently occupy space on my desk are The Art Spirit by Robert Henri and Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh.
“The impossibility of reforming Tony [Soprano] bears some resemblance to the crisis plaguing museums and toxic philanthropy today, where a culture of bullying and exploitation belies programming of socially- and politically-engaged art.”
As a critic, I’m dying to make a meta-critique of the ways my communities are represented on screen.
Over 50 years of the artist’s video and media work on how images, sound, and cultural iconography inform representation is on view through December 30.
Frey ponders why she felt comfort in television and film content that intellectuals often take pride in dismissing.
What does Rutherford Falls, a new TV series that prominently features two small town museums, tell us about the way people see the contentious stories on display in history and art institutions?
Over the course of three months, the resident artists in Going to the Meadow will collaborate and create with a curated set of continually changing materials.