CHICAGO — The eighth installment of a series (Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6, Part 7) in which artists send in a photo and a description of their workspace. Click here to see guidelines for submissions.

Monika Auch, Amsterdam, The Netherlands (site)

In the middle of my studio is a computerized loom and lots of different materials in big quantities: paper yarns on cones, thick specially-spun linen in a stack, bundles of horse hair in tightly bound tails, some orthodontic smart material and surgical tubes.

The glass cabinets on the right are left-overs from the Maritime museum. On the wall to the left there is a winch construction to pull large scale screen prints up into the eaves. There is a lot of natural light from skylights, big windows and an industrial concrete floor.

No music most of the times. A lot of dictionaries and books for my work as editor and freelance writer. The picture shows three looms: the computerized one from Switzerland, a sturdy Dutch loom and a foldable American darling. Maybe this is a metaphor.

CJ Nye, New York City (site)

My primary medium is oils. My process often involves layers of glazes which require significant time to cure in between, my studio is a live/work space and I have a cat. These factors combined often mean that I only have one full-on studio day a week. I answer my need to work more frequently by keeping a drafting table permanently set up to make works on paper — which I call Doodles. I give them that time-honored nomenclature by virtue of the fact that these simpler works more frequently bypass rational thought processes. I simply let the forms flow.

On days when I have been working on a particularly complex painting, or have been grappling with organization, orchestration, coordination, paperwork, etc., and my logical mind is completely spent, I feel the need to “let go” even more, so I turn off all but the light in the kitchen, and I Doodle in the dark.

Craig Kittner, Wilmington, North Carolina (site)

With the economy and all, I decided to fix up a corner of my one bedroom apartment as a studio. Tight as it is, I have windows with a northern exposure — the light down here is amazing. I’ve been getting out and exploring — walks in the woods and along the beaches and life drawing sessions at the art museum — returning with sketches and found objects to serve as subject matter. I’m also experimenting with a sketchbook app on my Kindle Fire tablet, using it both in and out of the studio.

My work is moving between drawing, painting and digital sketches with each approach influencing the others. In keeping with my small space I’m making lots of small pieces. Working rapidly, I am challenging my concepts of rendering and style to find what is vital to me and what works in this place.

Bo Bartlett, Columbus, Georgia (site)

This studio is my childhood bedroom. I bought my childhood home where I grew up in Columbus a few years ago. It is not as regressive as it may seem. This is the house in which most of my dreams occur.

Everywhere I look there is a wealth of memory. There is a heightened emotional hippocampus response which gets into the painting. My childhood, my past, my entire life is in a sustained numinous balance when I work here.

Bernard Klevickas, Long Island City, New York (site)

My studio is a messy 1,800 square feet ground floor, garage door, 12 foot high ceiling space with skylights. I share this with the artist Jordan!™ and occasionally others come in to work on projects. The equipment all around is stuff I’ve amassed over time, most of it for free or cheap.

Left to distance to right: tool cabinet, air compressor, bronze figure sculpture by Jacqueline Hirsch, blue wavy thing leaning against the wall is a two-part sculpture of mine that normally is horizontal. Hanging above is a space heater. The garage door is at the front. I am in the process of building large sheetrock doors at the front to help seal in the heat and provide wallspace for hanging art.

The doors to the right are for two small bathrooms, cold water only, until I buy a water heater. One bathroom may become a shower. The bright yellow thing is an English wheel for forming curves into sheet metal. Above is shelf space currently storing an accumulation of damages, abandoned bicycles that I use for some up-cycled art. Oh, and there is part of a yellow taxi cab bumper that I found on the sidewalk.

Below, the large circular thing is the flywheel for a punch/press, and then a drill press next to it, then a milling machine and pinkish table/cabinet. In the center is a work table with stuff on it. The hose from out of the movie Brazil is for ventilation from welding and patina fumes.

Each day I come in, turn on the heaters, go out and get breakfast, then come back and try to catch up on my emails while eating breakfast. Then my ass gets sore and I get up and start making things.

Philip Hartigan is a UK-born artist and writer who now lives, works and teaches in Chicago. He also writes occasionally for Time Out-Chicago. Personal narratives (his own, other peoples', and invented)...